"Oh."
Walking past Roy, who smiles up at me, I wave back and continue following Susan. I know a lot of these people. Exhibit A, Roy. Roy's in charge of so much stuff, he's an engineer too and in the past, he worked the lights by himself. Now, he's got an army of people beneath him. Those are the people that I don't know. We have far more than a few familiar faces floating around. They all met at last weeks hiring meeting, I'm the not-so-new kid around. The more I look around, the more I can see how big this tour's going to be.
I can try to get to know as many of the new people that I can. It isn't like I can avoid it, really. Thanks to Prince, I'm going to be Bobby's Cousin to all of the new faces until we cross paths.
"And this is Gabe, by the way. He's with us." Dusting the small beads of sweat off of his forehead, Gabe shakes my hand with his non-sweaty hand as I realize he's face of the head I was staring at earlier. "It's just us three amigos."
Susan really wasted little to no time getting me into the flow of things. Day five came and I was in the swing of things. I'm officially adjusted. I know everybody. I know every single soul that lingered prior to the purple reign and it seems that I've come to be friendly and acquainted with all of the others. I knew already that after Prince's cute little sarcasm, I wouldn't be abled to roam free as Rose unless I introduced myself as Not Bobby's Cousin.
But, I do like it.
The atmosphere, it's electrifying. In a world where practically everyone is an ally and so many people all get along with the one common goal of putting on a great show, a bond is bound to be formed and it is bound to be formed quickly. The love, it is all here. I've heard about other tours, I've seen their crews. The star disassociates with everyone and the groups disperse based on their roles. Dancers eat with dancers, technicians eat with technicians, background singers eat with background singers, the band eats with the band, camera operators eat with camera operators, etcetera. You'd think that's how it goes here, but it isn't. We're all surprisingly well-mixed, regardless of the crew's size. The band is around pretty often for the most part and when I say the band, Prince is included. Everybody goes outside and shoots some hoops, a card game sprouts a seed every now and then, all kinds of things happen during our lunch breaks...
Even when Prince delays them until they become dinner breaks.
Playing with the microphone stand, swinging it back and forth, between his legs, Prince stands in his required position on the stage. In a black blazer, he wears an absurd pattern on his low-hanging shirt beneath. I watch his chain swing with the leaning of his torso as he dips it and brings it back up with every bodily movement. "Say, who's ordering some food?" Most of his words are spoken into the microphone out of habit. "I want some pizza."
A sharp pinch of sound reeks from the speakers in response to Prince's last syllable.
"This microphone's still a little wonky. Can I get Susan or Gabe or Rose to come..." The sound emerges again. This time, higher than before. "Deal with this... piece of... piece of shit." The tone of his voice alone causes the room to giggle just enough for a smile to spread across his lips. He stands there, staring at the thing in a sense of disgust.
Susan stands up from behind a rack that she's been working on for the last two hours as she attempts to help Cubby get the monitor working correctly. "Can someone tell him that it isn't us. The microphone isn't broken either." Susan's attention turns back to stack of wires in a fit of frustration as he interrupts her focus. I've been waiting to see her get a little annoyed with him. It has to be much more bothersome for her, I've never really had to work with him... not like this at least. I did go on the 1999 tour with them but, it was mostly for fun. I wasn't given any direct orders. Back then, it was a get in where you fit in kind of situation. Although, Peggy was running at his every call without Susan. However, over time, things have changed. This one, this tour, it's serious business. It's already going to be epic.
Gabe jogs down the stairs to the main stage Prince stands on without any sign of dissatisfaction. Gabe's such a calm and mellow kind of fellow. I'm sure that even if he was a little flustered, he'd never let it show. I turn back to the set of wires I've been plugging in on my own time as we reset the new recorder because Prince didn't like the way the last one sounded. He did kind of have a point, the cassette quality came out with an aquatic effect. I think about it as I stick the jacks into their proper placings, connecting them with the correct amps.
The random chords of Matt fidgeting around on the keyboard as Prince's faint distant mumbles are picked up by the malfunctioning microphone.
I lean over the soundboard, watching Gabe go through everything in the book after Susan had already done so. I glance down at the positioning of the piano, my brain working out the equations based on the laws of physics and the speed of sound. I stare down at the taped 'X' on the ground and combine it with the decisions we all made in yesterday's soundcheck. I clear my throat, speaking up to Prince over all of the commotion as he stands next to Gabe holding the microphone stone with confused frustrations simper apparent on his face.
"It's in the wrong sweet spot!" I call out to Prince and Gabe. They freeze in their positions and stare back at me like two lost puppies. "Remember, because we installed the new system and that boosted the sound? The mic stand was supposed to be moved over two steps to the left... that's at least what you said, Prince." Gabe looks at Prince, Prince stares at me for another hard three seconds. I lean down on the board and watch him with a similar expression along my own face, waiting for him to make a move.
Prince, then, turns to Gabe as he mumbles a phrase or two. He takes two the left and speaks into the microphone. "Mic check one, twoo." The noise rises through the speakers. Prince's eyes shoot to me as I begin to giggle. It is clear that he is not amused.
"My left not yours," I laugh.
His eyes narrow as he takes four steps to his right. Setting the microphone in one position, Prince leans into the microphone. "Mic check one, twoooo. Check, check, check..." He pauses as if he is anticipating that same unruly sound. The failure of its appearance brings a curve to his lips as a half smile is created. "Alright, Rose!" I giggle, adjusting his levels to fit the new hotspot that he stands in. "Somebody can do their job for once! Bobby, you're cousin's a genius." Immediately, my smile falls at the idea of him, of all people, referring to me a Bobby's cousin. "As I was saying, ain't nobody else hungry?"
Mark calls out, "I'm hungry!"
"Nigga, you always hungry."
Prince's reaction earns a giggle from a majority of the room, myself included. I fight my smile as revenge toward his words spoken almost eight seconds ago. He's got a funny way of cracking on everybody, but don't let him become the topic of discussion. I'll surely avoid that mistake even more now that he's apart of the chai of command who'll be responsible for my paycheck being signed.
tantrum #652 + question/excerpt.
Start from the beginning
