The Gig
The pebbles shake and the rats
scurry away as the subway train roars though the tunnels. Cooped inside, they
sit with their heads resting against the metal walls, bags tucked in next to
them so as to stop anyone from getting any ideas. They breathe in the smells of
the underground, surrounded by strangers, everyone waiting for his or her own
stop. Some are reading, some listening to music, like that girl in the corner
whose blasting Eminem so load through her headphones that they can hear every
lyric. The lights flicker off. Then back on. Everyone leans forward as the
train slows to a stop. They look up on
the map of the stations; this is their stop. As the train stops and the doors
open, they pick up their bags and go. Navigating through the sea of people
heading the other way, bubble gum littering the floor, graffiti on the walls,
they make their way onto the escalators. Times is advertising its latest magazine
along the side wall. People are rushing past them on the left hand side,
obviously late for something, could be anything. As they step off the escalator
they look to their right and smile. Cello taped to the wall is a 1 foot high, 2
foot long poster announcing tonight’s event. Starting in a little over two
hours a band will be playing at a small time venue, just a few minutes’ walk
from the station.
As they
exit the station into the evening of another cloudy day in the center of
London, they pray that the rain will hold. There is a nervous, excited feeling
inside of each one of them as they walk the busy streets. The big red
double-decker, open-top buses full of tourists move slowly by. Cabs containing
busy people needing to be somewhere race past. The buzz of London city is
growing as this Friday night gets ready to begin. They know where they are
going because they memorized each of the street corners from Google Maps. It’s
a five minute walk from the station, and they are late. They turn down one
final road, and walk in the unmarked back entrance of a small building.
Inside
people are excitedly running around getting ready. The group is quickly ushered
away from the doors and into another room where the usherers’ frustration is
made apparent on his face as he asks why they are late. But he wants no reason.
There is no time for the reason. Things must get moving. The group put down
their bags, open them up, and pull out an instrument from each one. Quietly
they prepare, fine tuning each and every string. There are four of them. Three
of them have guitars, one bass, one acoustic, and one mandolin. The fourth is
the drummer. All he’s carrying are the sticks. They are the band that was advertised
on that small poster just outside the underground exit. It was their band name
that they were smiling at as they recognized the cheapness of their marketing
abilities. They really needed a band manager.
After running through the script
and making all of the necessary preparations they are ready. It is now 9pm and
they are scheduled to be on in 15 minutes. The tech support team gets each of
them set up on stage, making sure that the sound of each instrument is just
right. By now everyone is there waiting, screaming. It’s a small venue, and the
crowd is starting to still out into the street. The lights go down. The crowd
goes crazy. They step out on stage. And the show begins.
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