Your parents boasted about seeing The Rolling Stones when they were strapping British rebels complete with skulls and rattlesnakes. You can boast to your children that you saw them when they could be mistaken for your grandparents' hippie friends in Scott Stadium when you should have been writing that 20-page paper on God's existence. You can brag that you witnessed four wrinkled men basking in their rock 'n' roll glory and enjoying their global iconic status.
But you cannot brag that you spent the day as their "roadie."
As a member of the University Program Council's PK German committee, I had the opportunity to help Clear Channel Productions with the preparations before, during and after The Rolling Stones show. The jobs offered were to assist in the building of the stage five days before the concert, building the fences to prevent bystanders from viewing the set and helping with the hospitality and production management though The Next Adventure (TNA), a subsidiary of Clear Channel.
Feeling that my "vertically challenged" stature would not provide much help with the construction of the stage, I opted to help the hospitality committee. Furthermore, the idea of perhaps carrying Keith Richards's guitar or Mick Jagger's fedora seemed more enticing than lifting steel barriers.
Caffeinated and bleary-eyed, I trudged to Bryant Hall Thursday with the limited expectations of gaining little more than a few measly dollars for my troubles. At first, my dim prophecies of the day came true as I was relegated to the Bryant Hall garage to watch Clear Channel employees sip javas in golf carts and to heckle the University students. After all, we appeared to be dumb enough to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch a rousing game of "musical golf carts" as a few workers drove them around and arranged them in various parking positions.
In addition, Mother Nature refused to cooperate by providing a constant drizzle to dampen the spirits of the UPC workers. Feeling slightly down about my prospects for the day, I walked through the Scott Stadium tunnels to the Clear Channel office to pass the time until a "gopher" errand was needed. To my surprise, I was offered a job that would enable me to earn a hefty sum and occupy me for the remainder of the day.
A representative from Clear Channel Entertainment, Mitch Martin, offered me the job of decorating the press box where the benefactors of the new John Paul Jones Arena would be enjoying the show. I accepted gratefully and abandoned my fellow comrades, who later separated skull heads and rubber rattlesnakes for The Rolling Stones lounge.
When I arrived at the press box, I was greeted by a floral arrangement in the shape of The Rolling Stones tongue icon. Using red and white carnations and the Black Eyed Susan heads, a designer had replicated the tongue perfectly. The rest of the press box, however, looked like a mini football Hall of Fame. According to my boss for the day, it was my job to conceal the athletic atmosphere of the room and decorate it for the show. Post Office boxes replete with Christmas lights, tapestries, banners and confetti were stacked against a wall waiting for me to plunge into them.
I didn't feel the need to start right away, considering that the catering business would not be arriving for another seven hours. I opened the porch door to the outside of the press box and absorbed the atmosphere of the stadium. The final touches on the colossal stage were being hammered, the folding chairs were being arranged into four columns and the pyrotechnics were being tested. Tiny spurts of fire and explosives flew up into the cloudy sky, arousing cheers from the workers. Don Henley music thundered from the massive sound system. It was the perfect mood for creating a "rock star" ambience in the press box.
After stringing Christmas lights, lighting candles and thumb-tacking tapestries for three hours, Rick presented me with an additional reward to the subsequent check: a VIP pass and a free ticket to the show. I would be allowed to sit in the press box, enjoy a catered meal and have full access to the backstage area. My excitement concealed my prior grief at untangling another box of Christmas lights and directing security guards through the stadium.
Despite my luck, the best part of my day was not until two hours before The Rolling Stones' set. I kept the guests comfortable in the press box during the opening act by making sure their coconut shrimp and water crescents were plentiful and by calmly explaining why U.Va. students were working behind the scenes. Then Rick gave me a quick break and, as I was trying to leave the press box, I was interrogated by an elderly security officer about my experiences as a teenager. ("Are you one of those hoodlums that I hear from my house off Stadium?")
The crowds were difficult to meander through, but as an experienced New York City shopper, I managed to duck and dodge potential dangers. I wandered to the entrance of Bryant Hall (past the remaining tailgaters) to see if I could swipe a golf cart to amuse myself.
The crowd in the foyer was much larger than it had been before the opening act, Trey Anastasio, had started. TV and radio stations had set up a tiny hub looking to catch a glimpse of one of the Stones. Making use of my press pass, I moved past the security guard with ease and found myself inside The Rolling Stones' lounge, the Rattlesnake Inn.
The room was decorated with black tapestries and lace with skulls hanging off them. Rubber snakes were scattered about the room. The smell of gourmet food pervaded the air. I made my way over to the catering table to see if there were any "normal" foods rather than the ones upstairs. And then, I saw him.
It was not hard to pick Keith Richards out from the crowd. His hands were decorated by many rings, and his hair was up in a headband. A few people were next to him as he examined the food. Not about to pass up this opportunity, I pretended to be interested in some gourmet entity and introduced myself. Mr. Richards shook my hand and smiled after I said that the campus had been buzzing about the show since it had been announced last May. Grinning from ear to ear, I bounced back up the stairs to the press box and eagerly called my best friend to tell her about my brush with a rock legend.
As most of the attendees said, The Rolling Stones performed an amazing set, despite the delay from the bomb scare. Even in their ripe old age, these men know how to get a crowd excited from start to finish. I enjoyed the show from the press box while bumping hips with a middle-aged woman and keeping a party girl from throwing herself over the edge of the box. The clean-up, however, was a disaster. After the guests had left, I reorganized the Post Office boxes, swept the floor, and departed at 1:15 a.m. My job was finally finished, and my paycheck of almost $200 would arrive in about three weeks.
The experience of working for the gods of rock 'n' roll was one I will never forget. I still have Keith Richards' hand sweat on my palm.
Read More
Students brave the cold for a whirlwind sorority rush
By Mia Tan | YesterdayStudents recount a mix of emotions from rush, with some disappointed after dropping from the recruitment process and others ecstatic to join Greek life.
Top 10 ways to avoid burnout this semester
By Sam Saks | 2 days agoAs you settle into this semester, try implementing these 10 tactics to take care of yourself and wave goodbye to burnout.
Top 10 things I learned the day TikTok went dark
By Elizabeth Parsons | 4 days agoI am poised to bestow newfound pieces of wisdom from my short-lived TikTok detox.
