Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Sneaks


"Shit, here comes someone."

We ran into a closet in the dressing room, the door just cracked so we could see out. Two of the members of The Dutch Masters walked in and shuffled around. We had snuck into the concert hall hours before the show began. It was easy. The roadies were carrying in equipment, and we just joined in. We made a couple of trips to a big truck full of gear when Wayne grabbed a guitar case and hid it deep behind a stand of bushes. "We'll get it after the concert," he said. On the next trip, we just peeled off into the interior of the scaffolding and then into the dressing room. The Hollies were playing that night, and we were big fans of the high harmonies that Graham Nash sang. The Dutch Masters were the first act, a band that wore long wigs and outfits that looked like the cover of the Dutch Masters cigar box. We didn't have any interest in them, but now we were trapped in a broom closet inside their dressing room.

We watched as the drummer sat looking at himself under the bright makeup lights that surrounded the mirror. He would tap out something on the table with his drumsticks, then look back into the mirror. He found a pimple and began to pick at it. There were other people in the room we couldn't see who would occasionally pass into our vision. Not much was said, just the usual jokes and jibes, one fellow picking on another. Somebody threw a sock at the drummer and told him to quit looking at himself so much, but he was really working that pimple. Finally, he took it between his two drumsticks and squeezed. That was when Tommy began to laugh. Wayne reached up and quietly pulled the door closed.

"What was that?" a voice queried.

Wayne was holding onto the door when someone tried to turn the handle. He held it in place. My adrenaline was pumping. It was hot in the closet and stupid. We all shuffled a bit as Wayne put his foot against the door jamb and pulled hard on the door handle. The fellow tried the door again.

"I think someone is in there," the voice said. We were screwed. But we were young, too, and silly, so Tom picked up a light bulb sitting on a shelf next to him and said, "Let me out." Wayne moved aside and Tommy opened the door and walked into the room holding the light bulb in front of him and offered, "Did you guys order a light bulb?" Everyone in the room just stared. Steve started laughing and we all walked out into the light and out the door before anyone moved. And then we ran, first down a flight of stairs, then out a rear stage door into the dark. Outside, we all began to howl. We were adventurers, pranksters, and we were free.

Wayne walked over to the bushes where he had stashed the guitar, but it was gone. Who had taken it, he wondered disappointedly. A mystery without clues. But we hadn't time to worry about it just then. We had work to do if we were going to see the concert. It would be harder sneaking back in.

7 comments:

  1. we did the thing at a Foreigner's concert. Got in the back door with the roadies and then spent about 3 hours in a bathroom stall. Ended up sneaking in about 4 concerts in the same building the same way.
    Man it was fun,scary,exciting rush everytime.:)

    oh the fun of youth :)

    peace,
    dh

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  2. I never went to a concert! They were everywhere, big groups and small local bands. But I didn't like the craziness of the crowds.
    When I'd go to the local bar, there was always some garage band doing the best they could.

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  5. (Sorry about the deletions - Blogger decided to publish my post three times.)

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  6. Ah, the advantages of being Girl in these situations was great. No sneaking around-- rather it was promoting ones presence most ambitiously.

    I dare not speak of the escapades lightly however.

    Fondly,
    A Semi-Groupie.

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  7. I really like this and the next two installments...they always make me want more so I just have to come back and reread them

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