ADORED
It's early afternoon and the sound of preparation echoes through the cavernous arena. Heavy hammers reverberate through the rafters, electric drills whirr like angry wasps; a slab of plywood slams into place.
He surveys the scene, receiving a few nods of acknowledgement from the busy work crew.
Twenty feet above, electricians scramble through the stainless steel rigging mounting lights and positioning them towards the space below. Within the hour, the stage will be set.
He been doing this for years now, and the thrill has not faded in the least. It's the waiting that's agony, but he wouldn't miss this part of the show for the world.
When they take to the stage tonight, the fans will see the magic of what this small crew can do. He likes to see the work it takes to pull off the slight of hand.
It wasn't always like this. He still remembers the days when they were crisscrossing the country in their broken down VW bus, bouncing from one dive to the next. Those were great days and it still thrills him to see familiar faces on the road, older now, but still singing along.
Some bands get into for the money, fame, women and lifestyle. Not this one though. They've always been in it for the music and the connection it provides to their fans.
It's nice to be adored, but the real buzz comes from the fans adoring, not their band, but the music. That's why he adores them, for their respect and passion. Sure they are playing arenas now, and while the shows are bigger, the connection is the same.
He glances at his watch. They'll be able to do their soundcheck soon. He starts off to the dressing room but pauses before stepping off the floor.
"Thank you and good night!" he bellows into the rafters. The words ring through the emptiness in a satisfying way.
He waves to the bemused workers and makes his retreat.
He has a show to get ready for.
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