Daron's Guitar Chronicles: Vol 4

274 SAVE IT FOR LATER

SAVE IT FOR LATER

Okay, so, you know how I thought rock formations were really neat in New Mexico? Now imagine a stage nestled between them. That's Red Rocks. You've probably seen the U2 concert video from there so I probably can shut up about it now. I'll just add it's even better in real life.

We had left Mesa before the crew, but our jaunt to the cliff dwellings had let them catch up. Marty was in CB radio contact with their van and the equipment truck apparently, and so we ended up with all our vehicles arriving at Red Rocks at the same time that night.

The dressing rooms were like something from Disney World, with real rock faces for walls some of the time. They were less like dressing rooms and more like hotel suites. There was a full kitchen, too. All built into the levels under the stage.

The first people I saw, I totally didn't expect, but familiar faces are always good to see. First was Dave, the guy who had been the stage manager at the Fox in Boulder when we'd played there. I was just walking up to him to shake his hand when Jason came out of nowhere shouting "Duuuuude!" and we ended up in a loose three-way hug.

Jason from Stumblefish, the band we'd billed with last time through, too.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked. "Are you our local act?"

"Nope. Working tech," Jason said, "for Dave here."

Dave shrugged. "I do a lot of hours in the summer over here."

"So you're still in Boulder...?"

"Yep, there, too. Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

Jason wasn't done greeting me yet, and drew me into a fancy handshake of some kind. "It's awesome to see you again."

"Yeah, likewise. How's Stumblefish?"

"Eh. On hiatus. Which is a nice was to say we broke up, but with a bunch of flakes like us that might not be permanent." He spun in a circle. "Tell me everything."

"Everything? I don't think there's time for that."

"Okay, well, how about everything since I last saw you. Come on, there's leftover beer in the kitchen."

I followed him to the kitchen. Amusingly enough, though he'd demanded I tell him everything, he talked a mile a minute as we went. I had the distinct impression he was high, but not unusually so.

We ended up carrying a partial six pack outdoors and sitting on some rocks where we were within earshot of the stage but facing the other way. There was enough light to see by from the back loading dock, where the crew was moving stuff in and out, but we sat in the shadow.

Above us the sky was clear and there were so many stars...

"Hey," he said. And then that question again. "You okay?"

No, I'm not okay, I thought. Looking up at one of the most stunningly beautiful sights only reminded me of Ziggy. And how we were doomed. Wasn't that what his song was about? He was already writing songs about how he was just milking what was left.

"I don't know, man," is what I said.

"You sound like you're missing somebody," he said. "How long you been on the road?"

I shook my head. "Like two weeks. It's..." But it was like I was missing somebody. The way you miss people when they're gone.

But he's right there, I told myself.

Except he's not. He's already moving on. And it's because you forced him to...

"Daron," Jason said.