Coming Together

Story by Mad Dog
Photo by Michael Gosney

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[Stage Setup]

If you'd asked me last week whether this was going to happen I would have given you one of those Should-I-Be-Honest-Or-Should-I-Give-You-The-Party-Line looks. It wasn't that I doubted it as much as I knew there were a million details yet to be taken care of. Okay, 1,231,427 to be exact.

Last night Michael and I came out here to make sure our little netcast area was in reasonable order. Looming before us was a huge stage. Not like what I expected. I mean, this sucker's huge! There were rows of tents and booths lining both sides of the field. Hundreds of people swarming around setting up equipment. They would have looked like tiny little ants except I was too close. They looked like very busy people.

Someone was playing a conga drum in the distance. Someone else was setting up a three-projector light show for the night. A good fifty people stood in line to get some of the food being dished out. They must have had a long, hard day because their plates were piled high. Either that or they were planning to put their leftovers in a plastic bag and have them for lunch Monday.

We ran into Chet. His eyes were glazed. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning who's in shock because he's still too asleep to comprehend that this is really going on. Make that a little boy with long gray hair and a beard that would make Z Z Top jealous.

Monday morning Chet's going to wake up and wonder if it really happened or if it was all just a dream. Me too.

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