loading out the dinosaurs

If I could stick my pen in my heart
I would spill it all over the stage
Would it satisfy ya, would it slide on by ya
Would you think the boy is strange? Ain't he strange?
It's Only Rock N' Roll
The Rolling Stones
By Jagger/Richards/Wood

Qwest field, Seattle Oct 17- Just another night for Mick and the lads, leaving the field in a poof of smoke with the clean up crew like myself to mop up.
My crew weren’t allowed to venture onto the field to watch the grand finale. From where we were, it felt more like we were awaiting battle. The songs might’ve well have been friendly fire, what with the pyrotechnics. T he only song I could discern was “Tumblin’ Dice”, and even that was swampy from where I was.
Of course taking down that monstrosity would be no small task. I lost count of how many crates I loaded onto waiting trucks headed for Portland or Vancouver. It was madness though. I ventured out amongst the folded chairs and marvelled at the discared pizza holders, half eaten french fries, cigarette butts, plastic containers, and beer cups. We live in an age of blowers, so my joke about “getting a broom” obviously wouldn’t stick.
We didn’t get started until after 11 and the wrinkly lips had departed the building. My thoughts wandered to what aged rockstars in their 60’s must dream about at night, whilst I toiled away with a sound stage that was bordering on babalonian proportions.
This tour wasn’t Towers to Babylon though, it was Bigger Bang, did they even record an album.
New to the underling world of roadies, I wasn’t aware that the Stones crew certainly weren’t keen on doing the grunt work getting those crates up the ramps.
I was amazed how many women and older people I saw humping it along. One thing this company failed to provide was any sort of training which I would notice in the number of casualties. Two girls had their toes smashed by falling crates and had to be ambulanced away.
At first I did a fair deal of the pushing, but found it more hospitable to convene to the v.i.p. lounge and catch a bit of shuteye. Some of the deconstruction tasks proved quite monumental and I had to wonder which was harded, putting it up or taking it down. The size of the venue and the lack of accountability made sneaking off rather easy.
I can’t see the point in keeping the Stones together at this point in the game, unless of course you’re just trying to feather your nest. At the same time, it might actually be a dinosaur lumbering across our land and the days of stadium shows might be numbered.
I can’t think of any show I’d want to watch in a stadium, unless you put the Beatles back together. It’s gotta seem ironic when all your flava is drained out of you, but people still got a semblance of a time when you were once great. I wonder what Mick and Keith get up to at 3 in the morning, or is it all just mad English gentlemen turned loose on a fox chase.