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Sunday, October 16, 2005 |
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Sunday, April 10, 2005 |
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Monday, March 28, 2005 |
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Wednesday, February 23, 2005 |
10/11/02
The transition of travel since 9/11 is a story of
extremes. Those who fly on a regular basis have learned what to check
and what you can carry on. In the first year there have been some
inconsistencies in the criteria. The obvious items are not in question.
Following the Richard Reid incident, shoes are regularly pulled from
feet and passed through the x-ray machine. As the rules changed and the
personnel tried to adapt, certain things became strange.
I was flying out of a Southern Californian airport,
already having made sure that all my tools were far away in my
suitcase, even the dull drum key I carry for work there after a
screener spent nearly two minutes inspecting it three inches from the
end of his nose. I'm used to having all my pens checked and having to
take a sip from my water bottle before coming over to the other side.
I have worn a plain black fanny pack for many years
on the job and off. It's a handy place for my wallet, my cell phone,
pens, tools, chewing gum and the various talismans I insist on having
with me at all times. Being able to reach into my pouch and handle the
polished piece of hematite worry stone, the silver dollar, the various
medallions or the small replica of Stonehenge brings me a grounding I
need from time to time. For many years carrying things in my pants
pockets was not an option, unless I wanted them melted down to basic
elemental form by the end of the day from the heat and sweat.
Another talisman I carry is the keychain that my
house keys, car keys and scan tags all hang off of. It was given to me
by my mother after a trip to my childhood summer home of Great
Cranberry Isle, Maine. From when I was five or six, the jewelry art of
the boats men has always been to my liking. The natural progression of
watching my Turks Head Knot bracelet change from bright white when it
was bought to the darker, funkier gray was a good way to gauge the
summer's remaining days. I would wear mine as long as I could, even
prying it's shrunken grip from my wrist for a stern washing and
bleaching.
My mother knowing my love for these simple things
got me this keychain, which is a simple small knot, called a Monkey's
Paw. It is a round ball about an inch in diameter. Made of thin white
string, it is a reminder of a simpler time up there, on the water and
in the sun. I've had it for nearly twelve years.
As I passed through the security checkpoint, the
woman on the x-ray machine asked if she could search my fanny pack. I
said yeas and she proceeded to pull my keys out and inform me that I
could not go any further unless I removed my keychain.
I was instantly confused. I asked her why the
keychain was now considered unacceptable after nearly twelve years of
flying with it and nearly five months after 9/11. She informed me that
my keychain was classified as a weapon, was known as a "Billy Ball" and
had been considered such for quite some time. She gave me the choice of
surrendering it to her trash can, checking my carry on bag under the
plane with it inside or returning to the main terminal gift shop to
purchase an envelope and stamps to mail it to myself.
I didn't want to throw it away; I sure didn't want
to check my carry on bag (that's why it's a carry on), so I tried to be
understanding and returned to the gift shop where they were charging
three dollars for a simple white letter size envelope and $7.80 for
$3.40 worth of stamps. This triggered my righteous indignation circuit.
This usually is a problem.
I returned to the security checkpoint. I began to
try to reason with the young lady (who was the supervisor of a number
of older employees). I explained that it was a keepsake from my mother.
I explained that I had flown with it for twelve years and at least six
times since 9/11 including two international flights. I don't think I
even got a blink out of her. Some other, deeper, more primal circuit
flipped inside my head.
"Ma'am, it's a piece of string. If
I was to unwrap it and put it in my pocket, it would be a piece of
string," I said.
"Sir, it's considered a weapon," she said.
I considered using it as one but realized it would
be totally inefficient and never do enough damage or cause enough fear.
It would be like trying to bludgeon someone with a stale mini muffin or
doughnut hole. I decided not to share this with her.
Even in this heightened state of security, I tried
to imagine a cold, calculating terrorist holding a full plane at bay
with a one-inch key fob made of string. Perhaps using the attached
jagged house key with my other hand... it seemed like a reach.
Reason was not going to work. Subterfuge was an
option as I could have carried it through the metal detector without a
peep but that didn't come to mind. With all the communication skills I
gained through my upbringing, college and traveling the world, I went
with the next obvious choice: passive/ aggressive shame.
She could not see the warm summer days on the
seashore. She couldn't see the love in my mother's eyes. She couldn't
see past the guidelines her boss had given her.
I suppose I could have checked my carry on bag and
risked breaking the delicate things it carried, limiting myself to one
book instead of six and eight CD's instead of a hundred and forty. I
also could have spent the $10.80 to attempt to send it to myself at
home. In the end I surrendered it to her trashcan, hoping to make her
feel stupid (she didn't) and trying to act grown up (I wasn't).
As I usually do when these things put me into a
tizzy, I called my wife and she had a few logical common sense
suggestions. It was too late, I was down the concourse, my flight was
being called and the string key chain sat in a gray trash can with a
clear plastic liner with the other weapons, nail clippers, stale
Jujubes, and other bits of string.
The next day I heard on the news that the security
company she worked for was losing all of their airport contracts and
all the screeners were being fired. I felt vindicated for a few seconds
but in the end, I'm still sad that we now have to search our own bags
before we leave for the airport and that now we'll never know what
they[base ']ll look for next.
A few years back I was traveling to Israel on
business and saw that our departure to the airport was nearly four
hours before the flight was to leave. Our bags were screened by a team
at our hotel early that morning and secured. We spent a half hour at a
security checkpoint a mile outside the terminal, individually we were
interviewed as we checked in, again at the x-ray machine, once at a
random check in the shopping area and a last time as we boarded the
plane. With all the problems they have had, they took very few
chances. Most American travelers and probably all of the American
companies would never stand for this, the inconvenience and the time
consumption. What we experience now is still so casual compared to
places that have experienced terror for the lifetime of their airport.
It's too bad that we have to have security at the
airport. I'm glad we do though because humanity seems pretty
predictable. Perhaps we'll all be restricted to not carrying any
personal belongings in the cabin or having Nerf or plush version of
office supplies. No hardback books. Only felt tip pens or crayons. Kind
of like county jail on suicide watch. Then in first class they'll serve
a meal on china plates with real flatware including a knife. You can't
ask certain people to be punished for being successful.
I'm going to carry a few things if I can back in
coach. Something to write with and write on for starters, as I seem to
write mostly in the air nowadays. A good paperback and the beautiful
bookmark my wife made for me; a bottle of water and a self addressed
stamped envelope in case the rules change. Some things are not worth
giving up and cannot be taken by security: your memories; your
connections to the ones you love; the experiences that make you who you
are. Material things by nature are transient. The ones that hold value
to you should be protected.
I felt bad about losing that key chain. I liked its
size and its style. I liked that it reminded me of Maine and my
Mom. But in the end, it's just a thing. And like I told the woman
at the airport "It's just a piece of string".
7:53:36 PM 
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11/6/02
I had a conversation the other day with a dear friend that included the
sentence "You're only as good as your last job". Actually in her case
it was her "last deal" as she sells real estate. I wonder if it has to
do more with the kind of jobs we have or with the kind of confidence we
have in our work.
This time of the year is the beginning of the
questionable mental health period for sub-contractors and other
freelance workers. The dwindling money and the seasonal slowdown adds
fuel to the silly season fire. As the road people find their way home
for the holidays and often at the completion of a tour, a small voice
gets louder and louder in the personal mental choir: "You'll NEVER work
again!!!"
Years of practice, involvement in faith based
support groups and the fact that I've got a pretty good credit rating
help quiet that hysterical voice. I get by; there has always been a
roof over my head and I never miss a meal... except when I'm at work. I
like to remind myself of the times in the mid-90's when I was down to
my last twenty dollars in my checking account before the first check
came in. This was before my wife introduced me to savings accounts. It
reminds me to have faith.
Some days it lasts seconds.
In my line of work I've had the opportunity to work
for some of the greatest musicians in the world. I've never been sent
home before the tour was over. I've often been called to replace those
who are. As an old friend used to say "Nobody yelled and nobody threw
anything; it was a good day." That's success. I'm not a world-class
expert. I'm just a guy who sets stuff up and makes sure it works so
other people can use it.
I'm a roadie.
Now before your mind jumps to some rumor/ fantasy/
bad movie scenario, let me share one thing; it's just a job. It's just
a glamorous as accounting or janitorial service (but markedly less
glamorous than marketing research). It has few benefits (free
black t-shirts for one): no job security, no health insurance, and no
pension. Almost everything financial is a verbal agreement... no
contracts, no union. You have to depend on people who go by names that
sound like wrestling holds. Sometimes your workday is affected by a
person that your seven-year-old nephew knows ingests more toxins than
the Crocodile Hunter or spends every morning watching the Teletubbies.
It's not that much different than corporate America. In fact, it is now
a part of corporate America.
Most of our employers work for one of the big five
record companies. The touring promotion business is now nearly wholly
owned by a radio and billboard corporation. Many of the hippies and
counter culture people who came up through the concert business never
having to wear a suit and tie or dress clothes have to go to weekly
lunch and learns or strategy meetings. It's not your daddy's rock
concert anymore.
A business that was fueled on drugs, sex and cash
when it started has grown up to be an arm of someone's media
conglomerate. The tribal act of gathering to watch someone perform,
entertain and commune with the divine has become a way to sell
concessions and charge for parking. The recording and promotion angle
still has some worth, but it's becoming a way to stoke egos, sell
t-shirts and get the last of someone's disposable income spread around.
The last paragraph seems pretty cynical, but it's
just one facet of the touring world. It's still a way for artists to
make a living sharing their music with people in real time and perhaps
bringing a bright moment to some mundane existences. There are some
valid artists out there in stadiums, arenas and theatres, not just on
street corners and living rooms. There are also nice people who enjoy
entertaining others because it is their calling. For every three
emotionally damaged, ego driven attention magnets onstage there
probably is one person sharing what they have the best they can, for
better or worse.
The reason why this time of year is an issue is that
touring has become more of a seasonal business. With outdoor
amphitheaters all over the continent and kids being on summer vacation,
it provides an entire circuit for bands to play. As the fall arrives
and the temperature drops, bands wander home and begin to record their
next project. The process can take months and then the media company
wants time to market, advertise, promote, time and schedule the
release. Out in the spring, tour all summer and back in the studio in
the fall... the machine cranks out more CD's to sell.
When I started writing this I wanted to
express my feelings about how my work and it's insecure nature makes me
feel... insecure. I think it's a bit of a stretch to describe the road
life as a calling. Those who are not cut out for it are thinned out
quickly. Many of us were fooled into it initially. Once you get
comfortable out there, it's got you until you're done. Many "retire'
from the road and return time and again. The money has a lot to do with
it but the moving plays a big part.
Showbiz, the circus, the irresponsible life... many
people are running from something, perhaps all of them. The long hours,
the mostly thankless work, bad food, suitcase living... how can that be
appealing? As much as some of us yearn for a home and something to
return to, the being away is what makes it so special. I do enjoy the
travel, the time off in different places, the old and new faces... and I
enjoy the job.
Doing shows has more than a few dualities. You're
often in a brand new place doing the same old thing. Once the schedule
and itinerary smooth out, it's easy just to read the day sheet and plan
your day around that. It's a job that people see as exclusive and
glamorous that can grind like factory work some days. Because it is
show biz, regular folks treat you different now and again. It can be
fun... even if you know me and my infamous inability to have fun, I will
say that about the job.
Packing my bags and leaving the house for a period
of time is still an adventure for me. I'm not sure if others feel the
same way as part of the job is acting jaded and indifferent. I've
always said to people who ask me how to get into the business to be
careful, that it is a trap. Once you go out and survive for a while,
it's hard to go do something else.
I've actually tried to think of what else I would
want to do, a dream, an alternative, something to keep me close to home
and earn a living. I still don't have a clue. Perhaps it's because a
part of me won't let go of the road. Writing like this sometimes gives
me a glimmer of something else, a creative possibility that will allow
me a voice and a path elsewhere. I find my use of words interesting
here too... else, as in or else or what else.
Many people go through life without realizing their
passion or acting on it. The folks who are compelled, won't stop, can't
stop, the ones who it verges on a mania, I admire them. I used to play
music and at some point the joy departed and the flame went out. I
think I was using it to light a bong. For too many years I went through
life without a creative outlet and perhaps that was the time when I was
the closest to death.
I'm sure my addictions were the main reason, but the
thing about spiritual bankruptcy is there is nothing left but self. I
still have days when I don't like living with myself; back then I would
have drowned myself if I had the chance. Believe me, I tried.
Things changed. Life is full now; many blessings
have been bestowed upon me. I'm back on the path most days and the
searching continues. I have lived on the road three times longer sober
than I did drunk. It can be done; better, faster and happier. Even the
party cities are better and I can visit the places I was too paralyzed
or hung over to enjoy.
I really wish that travel or schooling abroad were
mandatory for American kids today. They could use the perspective of
why the USA is so amazing and so truly fucked up at the same time. I
have guys in their 50's who I travel with who I'm still trying to show
the difference between "different" and "wrong". To look in from the
outside can change your life. It's too bad that so many Americans can
leave the country and never really be outside.
Off I go again, a valid point but not the one I set
out to make. In speaking with someone about this issue who is outside
the business he had this comment that floored me with its insight:
perhaps I don't have an identity or autonomy until I'm on the road.
What a heavy thing to consider about yourself after nearly forty years.
Why would a somewhat well adjusted adult feel like a visitor in his own
town sometimes? But then stick him in a crew of strangers in a foreign
country and he feels like he belongs?
Moving to another state and getting married was a
major change for me after living alone for fifteen years. Having a
house as opposed to storage with AC and a phone line is a thing of
comfort and no small amount of pride. When Angela and I completed our
dining room and then had a place to feed and entertain guests, I
realized that something had changed. I never had a guest room where
anyone could spend the night. I never had a room where eight people
could eat a meal together. Angela and, to a small degree I, had created
a home to share with friends and family. It may seem strange to you
that these things are new first time experiences for an old fellow like
me. If you are in my business you're probably wondering what the hell
I[base ']m talking about.
There is a balance here somewhere. The problem is
the work is so unpredictable: too much, too little, no security. The
easiest way to get a work call is plan a trip or an important event;
the phone will ring. As the dining rooms are built and the plans are
made the only question is: what is more important?
(I wonder if this is more of a personal question rather than rhetorical...)
Well, home is more important. Your family and your
health is too. This is the strange thing about work and work away from
home especially. To build and maintain these things you have to earn a
living so you can live your life. Many people can not delineate between
living and life. The fibrous tangle of our jobs holds us back or pulls
us down. How many children have spent their childhood wondering where
their parent is? How many marriages have ended when the answer to the
question about whether the job or the relationship is more important is
not acceptable? The road is littered with divorce papers and sad notes
from sons and daughters. There are a lot of bachelors too.
It takes tremendous efforts on both ends of the
phone to make it work. Understanding and sacrifice are needed as well
as both parties being somewhat comfortable and secure apart. It's just
like any other relationship in that there has to be acceptance of who
each other is. This is the idealized opinion of someone on one side of
the argument though...
I still want to make a living by touring. I also
want my marriage strong, warm and growing forward. I need my home to be
comfortable, safe and part of who I am as a living, breathing evolving
human being. I need to do my part and be present and productive in both
places. I need to be open to both my wife and family and who I am, who
I have become. I am part of the production staff, the technical crew,
the traveling party, the bus riders, the lobby dwellers, the airport
throng, the backstage group, the road dogs, the tour scum. I am also a
husband, partner, brother, son and friend.
When I first go into this business I went to work
for a cartage company in Los Angeles. My boss was a long time road
person who had bought the company to be home and make a living. For a
time I was his only employee and we often put in 90 hours a week. We
shared our warehouse with another business nearby. We returned one
afternoon to find the other tenant removing the roll-up door, the
security system, all the lighting fixtures and who knows what else. He
was basically going to leave our inventory wide open to the honest
junkies of Hollywood Blvd. as he took what he felt were his belongings
and moved out.
My boss Pat shifted into a gear I'd never seen him
in before. He mobilized friends, solved scheduling problems, ran the
business and secured the building before sundown. He turned to me as it
became clear that we handled this unbelievable day with an angry yet
victorious eye. He said "They shouldn't have screwed with us. They
didn't know who we were. We're road people and the show always goes on,
no matter what."
This is the other family I was adopted into. They
got me through some tough times, took me places and got me home in one
piece. I learned a lot, earned a lot and it's part of who I am today.
I'm someone who gets paid to wake up in parking lots. I'm someone who's
tired of your favorite song. I'm someone who was onstage all night but
you won't recognize me five minutes afterwards. I'm a roadie. And I'm
still waiting for that phone to ring.
7:52:10 PM
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Monday, February 21, 2005 |
2/20/05
I recently received an email from a friend who also
works in the touring business that put an idea in my head. He was
informing me about a job position that had been filled by someone who
he admired and that he was a fan of his work. For a moment I had an
idea of a poll of backline techs about backline techs and who they
thought were the best guys or gals in their departments. I mean after
all, there are other people who we work with who are voted on and
receive awards each year from various trade magazines and associations.
Even the buildings we work in get prizes (though few of them deserve
them on merits we would bestow upon them).
For those of you who do not know what a backline tech is, it's someone
who is responsible for the set up, maintenance and performance support
of musical instruments and equipment. This can be drums and cymbals,
guitars and amps, pianos, organs, keyboards and computers, horns,
percussion and all the other goodies you see the musicians play.
Every day before the show these things are unloaded from the truck or
bus, set up and tested. There are strings and heads to change, things
to be polished and made pretty and items to repair and replace. During
the show, the techs will tune guitars and deliver guitars, deliver
drinks, towels and tempos, relay information to the sound people for
the musicians and other personal details. Some may play parts from the
side of the stage. They will also try to repair or replace anything
that fails during the show so that it can continue.
It became clearer that such a poll would be nearly impossible, as a
consensus could never really happen. There are more than a few reasons
why I think this.
In starting this essay, I used an outliner to organize these reasons
and the list became huge. It starts off as a basic subjective/objective
argument and becomes slightly self-obsessive in how important any one
tech can be in an organization.
(OK, time for a disclaimer: though I've made my living with a number of
job titles in the music business, I have spent most of my time as a
backline tech. I am talking about me and others like me, so I am
slightly biased. They say write about what you know, so... )
To begin, I believe that any data collected would be skewed and
inaccurate. I know who I know; my friends and co-workers know who they
know. Though it is a small business, we would most likely never get a
clear sample of who's working now, who was good then and who is going
to be great in the future.
Also, because this is a live art form and we tend to not be anywhere
for longer than 20 hours, it's hard to judge overall performance unless
you are on tour with the person you are rating. This might be fine for
guitar techs (who often roam in twos or threes), there is rarely more
than one drum or key tech unless they are with a support act or double
bill.
I have had the experience of being on a seven man and eight man
backline crew. I have been one man responsible for a seven-piece band.
More often it's three or four people doing a couple of jobs. When I've
worked on larger tours I've been able to see other techs work up close
for a longer period of time and get a fair assessment of their value. I
have also gotten a sense of others when there is more than one band on
the show. This is not always a guarantee as sometimes you are too busy
to watch someone else work. There is also the case of when they are
working, it is the only time you have to chill out away from the noise
and hoopla.
I spent my early years on the jazz circuit. I then
moved into a series of singer/songwriter type acts. I hardly knew
anyone in the hard rock/ heavy metal or country circles (though I do now). There are
people who I have heard of for twenty years and have never met. As
small as the business is, there are always good people who we don't
know. This would certainly lead to difficulty in pronouncing someone "best"anything.
Having friends you have worked with over time or on
a regular basis may be a plus or a minus. They may have a fair
assessment of you; they may overlook some of your more glaring
shortcomings; they may disrespect you because you took their bunk on
the bus. I have also found that people in the same category place value
on you for different reasons, not always positive. Perhaps you are the
perfect substitute because they know you're not good enough to knock
them out of that job if they ever want it back.
As time passes (quickly it seems), our job skills
and requirements change. It is really important for us to stay educated
in the latest gear and its applications. Some "old school" skills are
still needed but we don't want to be left behind. With a dependence on
computers for composition and performance, key techs especially have to
read a lot. You might be asked if you can tune a grand piano, run Pro
Tools sequencing software and re-string a djembe on a gig. Others just
know everything about Hammond organs; they get to do organ gigs. With
some younger acts it might be more important if you can drink a lot of
beer, hack a PlayStation 2 game console and get a quote the singer
made at last night's show into the drummer's Bluetooth phone after
sound check.
This of course brings us to the musicians. They are a special breed and
each kind is a unique sub-category. This is why the job of a backline
tech is often not coveted by others on the road because you have to
deal with "them". Many backline techs are or were musicians at some
point. This is not always the case but it is prevalent.
First and foremost, most musicians HATE looking like idiots on stage
when their gear doesn't work. They want to have someone they can trust
to have their back when things go wrong. Some musicians are very hands
on and know what every knob and button does. Others couldn't care less;
it's the tech's problem and if it goes wrong, guess who is to blame.
The psychological element of being a backline tech is huge; gaining and
keeping the confidence of a performer can often be a majority of the
skill a tech brings into his job. How much of that is BS and how much
isn't usually gets figured out after the first major equipment failure.
This is a point I hate to bring up but have to because it is a reality.
There are those who use their techs as a focus for everything that goes
wrong, real or imagined. They may be to blame for errors that the
musician made during the show himself. They may just ask for something
wrong so they can be mean. A musician may just spin a perfectly
good tech into a tizzy until he doesn't know which end is up. These
techs might just be punching bags or doormats. They may also be
compensated for this as you can't teach an old dog new tricks and
management knows it. They are not fun jobs but they do get filled (and
filled often).
There are as many different kinds of guitar tech gigs as there are
guitarists. From those who are obsessed with every detail in set up,
tone, battery voltage and piece of equipment, they often require a tech
that is solely focused on the one person and his every need. There are
also times when a tech is responsible for multiple musicians and must
prioritize every change and move. Some techs find themselves with gigs
where the appearance of the instrument, the gum and the drinks are more
important than anything going on musically during the show. The trick
is finding the right guy (or gal) for each job.
There is also the "buddy" factor. There are people who have come up
with a band who are more friends than techs and have the job because
it's more important for the musician to have a pal than proper backup.
Often management doesn't mind because the musician is babysat and the
friend can be paid with low fees and free beer. They can learn to be
good techs; they can also end up being managers or people to avoid when
getting off the bus in the morning.
One thing to consider is a dislike of change by musicians. You might
think that if someone has had a job for twenty-three years, they are
really good at what they do. It might just be that the musician doesn't
want to go through training someone new to be his bitch.
One huge factor is money; who can they afford or are they willing to
pay for? Everyone wants that guy who made those great sounds on that
album in the 70's but will they pay the price? Often the band loses
their budget as time goes by and has to settle for someone who costs
less. It works both ways; a tech might not to take a pay cut to work
with someone unless he has to.
Then there are the extended tenure techs. Some techs have been
with their artists so long they have more power than the tour or
production manager. Impossible you say? They have the ear of the artist
and can make things show up and go away with equal power. They can
affect schedules, travel arrangements, and staffing decisions. They
make friends and make enemies. They are all set as long as the musician
keep working. They can be really good at what they do but might not
make the cut because of history and the single minded-ness they
displayed.
I've heard other members of the road crew (sound, lights, production)
argue that backline isn't part of the crew; they are just a
sub-division of the band. I think I've touched upon this in previous
essays, so I won't delve into it here. For me it's a tricky blend of
single focus on your job and an acceptance of the big picture of all
the elements that it takes to put on a good show. How does the backline
tech fit into the crew? Is he a team player or a primadonna? Does he create
more problems for production than solve them? Do his "special needs"
create more work for the production manager or other crewmembers?
With some backline techs, their fees can put constraints on the budget
for other crew people. You might not get hired if your price is too
high (that might not be a bad thing... )
It's so subtle sometimes... do you get the big picture without
overstepping your job description? Do you keep focus on your own
job without spending energy on everyone else's?
Crew chemistry is a big deal because it is so rarely complete. You work
and live together, often without enough space to turn around or put
your shoes on. Someone you love with all your heart can get on your
nerves in an environment like that. Is the crew having fun while they
are doing their job and after? Are you part of that fun or destroying
it?
People change on the road over time as well. They can stay too long and
just be miserable. Someone who was a great, fun hard working friend can
become a soul sucking vampire who you dream of leaving at a truck stop.
I was going to write a paragraph or two on relationships with
management. These can be important but I don't think this is the time
to discuss it. Besides, they were not going to vote anyway
It's taken me nearly 2000 words to get to the point of this little
exercise... this is not unusual in my writing world. Good people know
what they are capable of and do it. They either find a niche or
continue to adapt to meet their clients needs. As they get older, they
become less flexible (as do their bodies) and are better fitting their
known qualities into the appropriate jobs. One man guys, multi-taskers,
floaters, vibe guys, gear heads... they all have a place. For good
production and tour managers it is the art of putting their assessment
of the tech with the right musician. Sometimes it even works.
There are a number of great techs that I have learned from and continue
to learn from. They seem more human and less untouchable each time I
see them. They bring decades of experience with them each day into
every building, the ability to create a consistent environment and the
skills to solve nearly every problem. They have made it possible for
generations of performers to play for millions of people and make it
look flawless. I wish there was an award for these guys as I could give
many of them away. But for now, just know that there is someone out of
sight who has made it his career to not be seen. That during a show is
a sign of success. That and no one throwing anything at them or yelling.
8:04:57 PM
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Thursday, January 20, 2005 |
...added story
The story a
few days ago about the airlines demanding a list of friends visited
reminded me of a story I wrote in 2002 about pre-TSA security and my
feelings on the inconsistancies we experience as business travellers
sometimes. The link to the story is here.
6:05:46 PM
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