Comprende Espagnol?

Work is finally picking up. Not always the kind I prefer but hey, I’m not very picky. I just crave the sweet, sweet pain of blisters, cuts and bruises.

With that, I’m meeting old colleagues again. Most of the people we work with are newcomers that only stick around for a production or two, and we never see again. But to be working with those familiar faces again, at bigger productions, is just great. Every time I think how glad I am to be part of that group. Everyone should love his job as much as I do.


No one knows who Juanes is, but still he managed to fill Forest National to the roof and give them a very nice show. Pop music with a hint of spanish fury and some percussion. Quite nice.

The artist was spanish, and that usually means that both the crew and fans are, too. Luckily the crew was not this time (the spanish can rarely speak english and if they can, they still don’t), but the crowd was full of what my friend calls, "spanish chica’s". Me, I’m not allowed to say that since I have a girlfriend who occasionally reads this shit. Most of them were young little girls, but oh how we underestimated what they were capable of.

The show was over, the artists were backstage in their dressing rooms, and it was our turn to take the stage again. We were notified too late so we had to hurry to the stage, but I happened (cough) to be around, so I was the first to be on stage with the permanents.

Normally a quick briefing is given before we get on stage, but I wasn’t with the group so I didn’t know about it. No big deal, I just walked up to a permanent and asked where help was needed. The crowd was calmly on its way out, and the security, who had done a good job as always, were chatting as they waited to have the ‘okay’ to go home.

One of the girls in the crowd, however, wasn’t planning on leaving. Not caring about anyone’s job on the line, she just sprinted past security and hopped on stage. From there she ran further back, towards the stairs leading to the dressing rooms. Too bad she had to pass by me to get there.

I would probably have let her go wherever the heck she wanted if I would have given it any thought, but my first reflex was more along the lines of "oh Hell No." I droppped the snare drum I was packing up and ran after her. As she reached the stairs, she saw that there were two permanents blocking the way further down, so she was getting ready to make a two meter jump off the stage when I finally grabbed her. Babbling hysterically in spanish, she just plumped down and wrapped arms and legs around a pipe supporting the stair banisters.

The guys, who just got their briefing, all laughed and pointed as I fruitlessly tried to drag her back downstage, yelling "where’s the security when you need them??" Eventually one of them showed up, and not a minute too soon because she was getting quite aggressive. The way he handled it, really impressed me. If I were him, I would have snatched her off the stage and dragged her back to the crowd, to toss her back in there. He, however, told her "okay, let’s go pay them a visit". She immediately calmed down, they both went to see the artists for a minute or two, huggles, kisses, autographs, everybody was happy.

Nobody likes a scene. If he would have dragged her back to the front of the stage, she would have most likely made one, possibly even stirring commotion amongst the rest of the crowd. The way he handled it was surprisingly professional, these guys have apparently received some kind of training for this.


2 responses

  1. Grant

    Penis.  Move to Canada.

    13 March 2006 at 16:50

  2. Lisa

    Nah. America, my friend. Move to america. We got insane stalker fans that shoot the..wait..nevermind. *hums and remembers Dimebag and who was shot and died in the Alrosa Villa in Columbus where she lives*
    Yeah, move to canada.

    14 March 2006 at 21:13

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s