How was your day?

I had started off the weekend expecting to do only two gigs, but finished the weekend doing three in two days. I did another mitzvah yesterday, followed by an emergency roadie gig at communion party. This was after the late night working a prom gig. This meant that I worked a 17 hour day yesterday. Not entirely unusual for the entertainment industry to be truthful.

I am beginning to become accustomed to the continual muscular aches in my arms, shoulders and upper back. I can't recall the workouts in my past being this brutal, but then again, I would space them out over the course of a week. Perhaps some day soon, I may have the upper body to match my legs.

The mitzvah was this grand affair inside a beige stucco mansion of a building. Both floors had an outdoor patio with square footage that was larger than the square footage of my parent's house. (In case you were wondering, the patio measured about 65x40.) The room that the mitzvah was booked in must have been twice as large. We were on the second floor, having loaded up from the basement.

As beautiful as both catering halls were, I also saw the seedier side of this hall as I pushed or dragged the equipment through their basement and kitchens. Low ceilings, dirty floors, and maze-like openings around walk in refridgerators. We pushed the equipment into the service elevator which had plywood for a floor and went up to the second floor. There we weaved through the kitchen and into the main room.

The guest of honor, who was celebrating her coming of age, reminded me strongly of Tori Spelling, only this girl had blue eyes. I'm not sure if this resemblance is a vote for or against her. She was dressed in a pale pink dress with multi-hued as well as multi-layered silk mesh skirt that surrounded her like a bell and went down to the ground. I suppose it would be easier to imagine her dressed in a princess/ballerina outfit, which is really what it reminded me of.

This time, I was working the photo booth again, and I must have taken her picture with every one of her seventy five non-adult friends. That's right, she had seventy five guests all under the age of 15. During the photo sessions, I even had to fend off the photographers hired to photgraph the entire event so that I could do my job. I have to say that she was very photogenic, and unbelievably patient considering how many flashbulbs must have gone off in her face. She had the poise I would expect from a woman twice her age, who would be preparing to attend her wedding reception and expecting this barage of photographs.

As the party wound down, we learned that the elevator had broken down. As my luck would have it, I would have two gigs in a row where I had to lug the equipment down flights of stairs. Normally, I expect some carrying and lifting on flights of stairs, because at most catering halls, the service ways aren't handicap accessible. I don't complain about this often, but two straight gigs of carrying equipment down two flights of narrow stairs just made me miserable.

On our way back to the warehouse, I received a frantic call from the production manager asking me if I could drive to another catering hall to cover that gig after the roadie for that party went home sick. I agreed to go, not really knowing what to expect. When I got to the second catering hall, I entered this warren of a catering hall that had been built in the 1800's with, as you guessed it, no elevators.

My inner self broke out in tears, I tell you. I stoically climbed the flights of stairs and made my way into the party room. There, I received relieved hugs from both the MC and the DJ. I saw why both of these guys were so happy to see me. We set up and the communion party started on time. After this party ended, the DJ split early (being the owner's nephew has its priveledges, I guess.) and the MC and I had to carry all of the equipment back down.

By the time the last item made it down the flight of stairs, my arms were trembling from all that effort. We must have taken breaks after every few steps because I was so winded. When we at last had the truck unloaded at the warehouse, it must have been three thirty in the morning. My day had started at ten on Saturday morning, when I arrived to help load up the truck at the warehouse. Perhaps more people will better understand why being a roadie can be both interesting and tiring at the same time.

On another topic, I will leave with one more thing to say. I may have some good news to share. Until I am entirely certain, I must leave you all in suspense.