Typical Day
It's 9:00AM and Sam Wittzaband wakes up in a musty motel room with peeling beige wallpaper, somewhere just outside of Memphis. He turns the shower to its coldest setting and, before he can talk himself out of it, douses himself with the freezing rain. If there's a better way to wake up in a hurry, Sam doesn't know it. He runs a comb through his hair and crawls into his dirty jeans and black vintage Mötley Crüe t-shirt.
Call time this morning was 9:00AM, but everyone knows that means more like 9:20AM or so. Nobody's gotten more than three hours of sleep and they all have a long day and night ahead of them.
Right after the morning meeting adjourns, Sam tracks down a Starbucks a block away and brings back coffee for some of the crew. Then it's time to start checking the gear and loading it onto the bus.
Once everything's packed and loaded, they drive down the road to the Marriott to pick up the band (because, of course they stayed at the fancy hotel), then hit the highway. They need to be in St. Louis by 4:00PM for setup and sound check. Most of the crew scatter to different areas for the long ride; some play video games, some go back to sleep, some keep busy with...ah, who cares, they all just go about their business.
Sam finds an empty seat and opens the user manual for the new Peavey Vypyr VIP Combo Amp. He's a backline tech, and this new amp has about a thousand different settings and effects. He has to know all the ins and outs of how it works.
You only get one chance to figure out which setting is wrong, on stage, in the middle of a concert, while 50,000 people wait patiently (or not) for you to fix it. Do you want to be the one to mess it up? Neither does Sam.
At 2:00PM, everyone's starving and has to pee. The bus pulls over at a rest stop somewhere in southeastern Missouri, and everyone heads off to the bathroom. Sam gets in line behind the band at the fast food chain inside, and by the time he gets to the front of the line, the kid behind the cash register is looking at him wide-eyed and dumbstruck.
"Was that...?" the kid starts.
"Yeah, they're who you think they are," Sam replies. "Can I get two double cheeseburgers, an order of onion rings, and a Coke?" He loves watching the reactions from everyone that sees the band, but right now he's reacting to some pretty unpleasant sounds his stomach is making.
At 3:00PM, back on the road, Sam pulls up Rolling Stone on his Kindle and checks his phone. He sees a picture of his cat, Mr. Whiskers, and wonders whether the cat will remember him when he gets back. His girlfriend has been taking care of the little furball while he's been gone. Come to think of it, he's not sure he'll have a girlfriend when he gets back either. Life as a roadie isn't exactly conducive to steady relationships.
Finally, just a few minutes past 4:00PM, they pull into the parking lot of the night's venue. Suddenly, it's a rush of movement and all hands on deck to start getting things unloaded and put together. Sam makes his way back to the rear of the bus and starts moving the instruments to the offstage area. It's a good thing he's moving, too—those double cheeseburgers are starting to settle like greasy anchors in his stomach.
Once the speakers and amps are all set up, sound check starts. They test out the instruments, the lights, and the other effects, then it's time to finally relax a little before the show.
At 8:00PM, the doors to the venue open and the crowd starts coming in. Roadies tune up the instruments and tap the microphones one last time to make sure they're working.
The roadies vacate the stage and the opening act goes on, but they're just a bunch of locals the tour manager found at the last minute—the crowd hardly notices when they start. Once they're done, though, Sam starts to feel the excitement as the crowd gears up for the headliners. He's been doing this a long time, and the pre-show anticipation has become the best part of the whole night for him.
At 10:00PM, the band finally goes on. Sam and the rest of the guys watch, on alert for problems. The Peavey amp is working perfectly, but in the middle of the eighth or ninth song the bass player pops a string. Sam's on it in seconds—he swaps the bass out and changes the string mid-song. The music never stops and the audience doesn't even notice.
After two encores, the band finally finishes up at 12:45AM. The crowd is still cheering for them to come back, but the guys are dripping sweat as they walk backstage. No chance they're going back out there. The lighting guys turn the house lights up and the crowd starts to disperse. Time to start breaking down the set.
Sam walks over to the guitar bay and almost passes out as he bends over to unplug some of the many cords. He never realizes how tired he is until after the show ends—which is part of the magic of the whole experience. As he stands up to take a breather, Stu, the bassist, walks over with a big smile on his face.
"Hey man," he says, "I couldn't believe how fast you got that string changed during the show. The song after that had my big solo, and I needed that bass to play it. Would've been a disaster."
Sam tries hard not to lose his cool, but it's not every day that a rock star thanks you personally for your help. "Thanks dude," he says, "just doin' my job, you know?"
Stu grins and slaps Sam on the back before walking away, causing Sam to burp. Double cheeseburgers.