Farewell Tour

 Farewell Tour

The last note of the last song on our final tour has long faded, replaced by the sounds of the road crew. Joking with each other, talking about plans for after they get the equipment loaded and set torn down. Some planning on to where to eat after, what will be open at the late hour. The blinding bright stage lights swapped out for house lights. From my vantage point in the empty theater, I can see the crew working quickly but carefully. Kicking up shiny bits of confetti mixed up in the dust as they cross the stage. Clearing off everything from the heavy amps down to the lightest of microphone stands to the waiting trucks outside. Someone runs his fingers on the small silvery chimes before placing it in it’s padded box, creating a slight tinkling sound. Reminds me of the sound used on those old toy books to let the reader know to turn the page (I wonder, do they still make those?). Apropos, I suppose, given my current state. Ten years with this band and it ended pretty much the way all concerts have, with one exception. This time, instead of going on to the next town, we’ll be going home. We’ll see each other often at first, living in such a small town. But as it always does, the get togethers will be become less frequent. The new chapters of our lives will prevent us from being as close as we have been. C’est la vie, and all that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the venue’s cleanup crew ready to get to work. Someone has turned on the house PA system to an oldies rock channel. In my head, I sing along and pray that my songs aren’t among the “moldy oldies.” But at the same time, I kind of hope they are. All around me are the ghosts of a few hundred people having been entertained for a couple of hours. Multicolored confetti from the cannons shot at the beginning and the end of the show. Discarded snack wrappers, popcorn buckets, chips bags, hot dog wrappers, beer and soda bottles, matches, a few joints even, some change. A couple of homemade signs of fans claiming to love me. And then there’s me. Sitting dead center of the stage. The ultimate spot for the very best view of the show. As a young fan, I would have given just about anything to have this seat to see my idols, instead of the cheap seats in the nosebleed section, if I was even allowed to go to the concerts. Anyone from Rush to Paula Abdul, Rob Zombie to Reba McIntyre. Chanting their names as the hype man gets everyone even more excited for the show. Being thrown into complete darkness for a few breathless heartbeats, the spotlights flashing out into the crowd before training on the stage. Everyone screaming and cheering as they jump to their feet as a drum roll or familiar guitar riff heralds the arrival of the main act. The lead singer shouting how amazing it is to be in this city, and how is everyone tonight? Oh, you can do better, I said, how is everybody tonight? Causing an even greater frenzy in the auditorium. The adrenaline rush that starts months earlier when the radio DJ announces that their tour will come through your city, and doesn’t end until a couple of days after the concert, when your hearing returns, friends tire of listening to you go on about the concert, and life goes back to the mundane. Was it really that long ago? Were we so young once upon a time? There are times nowadays after a show, I find myself searching the faces of the fans to see my younger self. I’ve seen her a few times. The shy, quiet, almost mousy girl embarrassed by her own awkwardness; secretly wishing that she could be on that stage having the crowds chant for her. Proving to her peers and herself, that yes, she does have what it takes.

Ricky, our drummer and my oldest friend, quietly materializes next to me and sits. “Takes you back to the “the good old days” don’t it?” I nod my assent, and we talk about some of our more memorable shows. The tornado that blew through a neighboring town the first time we visited Kansas. The time one of the buses caught fire on our way to California. The endless, endless highways of Texas. Us swearing to never play there again, but always going back anyway to play the enormous stadiums and visit family. The night that the lights ironically enough went out in Georgia for about thirty minutes. Our first overseas tour where everyone got food poisoning but we still managed to play a pretty good show. Not our best, of course, but we were definitely glad to suck it up. Ricky picks up one of the signs proclaiming the holder’s undying love for him. “Not too bad for a bunch of nobodies from nowhere, Oklahoma, huh?”

Our musings are interrupted by a young man wearing the uniform of the venue’s crew, carrying a large trash bag. “Excuse me, folks, but we’re closed. Do you need some help?” We stood up, and saw the look of recognition in his widening brown eyes. “Oh, I...I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize...” I smiled, held out my hand and read his name tag as we shook hands. “It’s fine, Trevor. We’re the ones who need to apologize. Y’all are trying to work. Can you recommend a place round here that’s still serving food?” He gave us directions to a hole in the wall bar and grill which he boasted to have the best burritos in town. We thanked him, took a few selfies with him and slowly walked back up to the stage. I stopped and took one last look out in the auditorium. Ricky put his arm around my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “You o.k., darlin’?”

I sigh and look up at him. “Yeah, I guess. You?”

He chuckles and steers me to backstage. “Hungry, but yeah, I’m good.”

We follow the exit signs and meet up with the rest of the band outside lingering by the buses. Together we walk the few short blocks to the b & g, keeping the conversation light and cheerful. There will be plenty of time for pensiveness later.