Exhaustion with a smile

I can say that I have not looked so forward to the sight of my bed as I did yesterday evening (Or was that earlier this morning?). Working a double set of gigs in one day (coincidently surrounded by some very attractive females during one gig) had just about wiped me out. I did a mitzvah and a birthday party one right after the other at two different locations. I didn't get home until four a.m. after starting off at the warehouse around eight a.m.

I staggered into my room and barely managed to collapse on my bed before sleep overtook me. Right now, my arms still feel like lead weights, and my legs are all sore. In the past, I had jokingly referred to my job as an opportunity to get my weight lifting workout. Yesterday, the joke was on me. I feel like I did four one hour full body workouts.

I had helped load and unload two box trucks full of lighting and audio gear and some of those travel cases weigh nearly one hundred and fifty pounds. These particular box trucks don't have hydraulic lifts, so we have to manually lift these cases up on to the three and a half foot high truck bed. Usually, with three or four guys, everything gets unloaded in thirty minutes per truck.

Loading in at one location, we had to carry this equipment up two flights of stairs because the building was too old to have a freight elevator. We're not allowed to use the guest elevator for load in because of the fear that we may damage the fascias in the elevator. For an hour before set up and an hour after break down at each gig, we had to carry arcade game booths, playstation booths, an air hockey table and all the dj and lighting equipment. Both types of booths required four of us to awkwardly carry each booth up the stairs.

But, enough of my complaints of soreness and aches. This weekend, I had the fortune of working with experienced crews and this meant that there weren't any mishaps during the events. As for the comment of attractive females, I had the opportunity to work the photo booth with two ladies. Both of whom helped me take photos that are inserted into those cards people bring home from parties. These two women were dancers for my company who also did other jobs such as running the photo booth. (I might mention at this point that if it weren't for the poor pay, I would most certainly enjoy doing this, even with all the work.)

Prior to meeting them, I had always understood in an abstract way that professional dancers always attracted a guy's attention. It wasn't until I spent four hours working beside them that I learned why in a less abstracted manner. Another lesson that ended while leaving me with a smile. Allow me to elaborate. I had already mentioned in a previous post that in the entertainment business, there is a certain amount of "tolerated" intimacy that goes on.

Vanity is a well known human trait that causes us to display what we are most proud of. Dancers are very proud of their bodies, it seems. And they should be after spending years working out and perfecting the skillful control of their bodies, which permits them to contort themselves in ways that most humans can't even conceive of doing. (For some reason, the lyrics from Shaggy's Carolina came to mind: she rock her body and move just like a squirrel.)

My fellow compatriots working the photo booth were both very proud of their bodies, and in their vanity, wore clothing that showed off what they were proud of. The tight fitting clothing that didn't hide much displayed the well toned and powerful muscles of their bodies. During slow times at the booth, they danced along with the songs being played by the DJ. Since I certainly could not dance anywhere as well as they could, I merely watched them as they danced. I wasn't interested in proving how less skilled I was. I would say that watching them as they were dancing was bad enough temptation, however, with the tight fitting clothing, it was difficult to ignore their physical charms.

Circumstances had it that we were all stuck behind this one large table barely three feet away from the wall. We were surrounded by all the usual baubles that we can insert just taken pictures into which the guests can take home with them as mementos of this "special" occasion that they had come together to celebrate. We would spend fifteen minutes taking photos and then go the next fifteen assembling some thirty to forty photos behind this cramped space. Because of the setup, we would have to reach behind each other to get the items we were inserting pictures in. Accidental contact was unavoidable.

I can't even honestly say that I minded this "accidental" contact at all. Though, at one point, one of the women barely missed putting an end to my reproductive capabilities with her elbow. I have a bruise on my inner thigh for my troubles. She claims it was accidental. I think she wanted to get back at me for nearly knocking her over when she stopped short in front of me earlier in the day. I weigh nearly twice as much as she does (I would guess she weighs about one hundred and ten pounds), there wasn't any chance of stopping in time. I was also goosed once because I didn't move out of the way as one of them tried to squeeze by. Some of the guests found the sight of me suddenly lurching forward very funny. I, however, did not get the chance to return the favor. (I'd probably have gotten slapped for it anyway. Oh well.)

As for other details about these gigs, I couldn't help likening the strong similiarity of the guest of honor at one gig to Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead. I also learned that large numbers of teenage girls in a small room equates to an earache after being overwhelmed by their piercing screams. Teenage boys have no problem posing for blackmail type photos. Finally, I learned that working the photo booth with slow printers is very frustrating, even if you have all three going at the same time.

Yet, somehow, through all of this, I still have a smile on my lips.