the hard truth

I was kidnapped by a top-ten, hip-hop, teenage-pop sensation.  

That’s right.  A month after moving to LA, I was totally tricked into taking a job with a touring band.  Well, not so much a band as a group.  A big group.  One you’ve definitely heard of.  One that broke sales records and was ranked number 1 on every list.  I hadn’t just agreed to work with a tour.  Without realizing it, I had agreed to help run a small city.  I had a feeling it’d be fun...

In all honestly, it truly is the hardest I have ever worked. 

Intense, though still, years and bands later, I can’t quite explain why.  Most of what I do is just making sure that everyone else has what they need to do what they do.  It’s like babysitting a bunch of grown men.  Holding their hands, listening to them whine, answering their every little question after I’ve already emailed them the information. Three times.  

Note to self for all future relationships:  men are bigger babies than babies.  

                                                                                (but more on that later.)

Very quickly, my life got consumed by that platinum tour.  Taken over.  Almost like the months I’d just spent locked in the library during college to work on my thesis, except without the friends to distract and peer pressure me into going out every night.  There was no fun.  Just work.  Ironically enough, my work was making sure everyone going to the concerts have fun.

Us roadies?  Into work every morning at 6.  Run around all day to create a non-stop, high energy, 2.25 hour show.  A department to build the stage.  Another to provide sound.  Lights.  Video.  And production to pull it all together.  Band in by dinner.  Show. Then at work until around 2 am to pull it all down, pack it all up, and send it out on the trucks. Last, hop on a bus to follow it all and start the cycle over.  

It’s amazing how little the concert actually means in day. And how weird life gets on that schedule.

I can’t pretend it’s all bad.  Even mostly bad.  We do get to travel.  I’ve been all over the world.  Backstage at the World Cup.  To the Grammys twice. American Music Awards. Dick Clark’s New Year’s Eve. But it’s definitely work.  It’s a lifestyle.  Good, bad, and exceedingly weird.