by Douglas Young
“Guess who’s coming to the campus coliseum?” Zora greeted Zarius in the hall with a wide-eyed grin as he left the classroom. Zarius got ever more excited as his friend leaned in closer boasting a thoroughly pregnant smile about to birth a big laugh.
As he blinked and imagined a parade of their favorite bands, Zora exclaimed, “Neil Young!”
Seeing his eyes expand and his mouth open, she bent over giggling.
“That’s right. One of your long-time favorites,” she confirmed. “And it’ll be a solo show, too, with just the ‘Old Man’ on guitar and piano. An intimate evening with Mr. ‘Heart of Gold.’”
“Oh, man. Outstanding,” Zarius replied.
“I figured this might make your day.” Zora beamed.
“Yeah, but will tickets be really pricey?” He suddenly frowned.
“As the Good Book says, ‘Fear not,’ ’cause I know how we can not only get in for free but even get paid to attend,” she declared.
“Who do you know with that kind of pull?” he asked.
“A buddy of mine said they need students to do security for the show.”
“What drunk would hire you or me for security?” He laughed.
“The student union. Look, they only need beefy, no-neck jocks in front of the stage. No one else needs to be big at all. Shoot, they even hire chicks. You ‘stand guard’ wherever you like. Just look official with your security patch and enjoy the show,” she assured him. “So sign up at the student union office and get to the coliseum two hours before showtime.”
“You’re on, babe,” he answered as they high-fived and went straight to the student union.
After an earlier coliseum concert, Zarius noticed the performers’ dressing room was right by the stage. Now, as the weeks went by, he grew ever more hopeful he could guard that room. Visions of enjoying and photographing the performance from just yards away and maybe meeting or even getting a picture with Mr. Young increasingly thrilled him.
Late on the afternoon of the concert, Zora and Zarius went to the campus coliseum’s security gate, checked off their names on the sign-up sheet, and walked to the area in front of the stage where about forty mostly male students would gather.
“All right. Listen up, y’all,” the security boss eventually announced from the stage. “We need the biggest fellows down here in front of the stage. Everybody else go and stand by any section of seats where there’s not already another security person. Now our biggest problem tends to be unruly drunks. So if you see one, immediately get one of the many cops in the hall. Don’t attempt to manhandle anybody yourself. Okay, thanks, stay alert, and man your spots.”
“See,” Zora elbowed Zarius with a satisfied smile. “Easy peasy.”
As everyone went wherever he wanted, Zora grabbed an entrance in the lower deck just above the floor close to the stage.
Zarius raced to the dressing room where, to his major relief, the entire little hallway connecting the room to the stage stood vacant. He marveled at his good fortune and quickly stifled a smile. Other than stagehands walking to and from the stage tuning guitars and checking amplifiers, he had the place to himself.
Slowly peaking into the empty dressing room, he saw a table full of snacks and soft drinks. Then, looking as official and uninterested as possible, he sauntered up to the side of the stage to stare in awe at the shiny guitars, piano, and thousands of fans filling the arena.
Wow. I’m going to have the best view in the whole place, he gushed to himself. This is incredible. Zarius recalled all the concerts he had seen and how far away from the stage he invariably was. But not tonight, he caught himself smiling again.
Later an older man walked up and introduced himself as the concert’s promoter. Though their small talk proved to be utterly mundane, Zarius was elated to converse with a big-time rock music impresario on the edge of a concert stage and looked forward to bragging about it to Zora.
As showtime approached, Zarius figured he ought to stand near the dressing room for when Mr. Young arrived. To his relief, there were no fans around. What sweet “work” indeed, he exulted, and to get paid for it too.
While Zarius listened spellbound to a roadie discuss concert tours, Neil Young and another man quickly walked into the dressing room and closed the door. To Zarius’s disappointment, it all happened in a few seconds.
As the arena lights soon went dark and the crowd roared, Zarius tried to look like he knew what he was doing in the empty hall.
“Hello again.” The promoter smiled at him.
Then Zarius saw that Mr. Young was already walking on stage.
Oh, man. I missed him again, Zarius regretted but consoled himself that he would at least still get the finest view in the house as he eagerly walked to the edge of the stage.
But a stagehand slowly proceeded to close two large doors connecting the stage to the hallway, totally blocking any view of the performance.
Zarius blinked repeatedly and soon realized his mouth was open. With the hallway lights still bright, the promoter observed his crestfallen face.
“Well, just think,” he remarked, holding back a laugh as he patted the young man’s back. “You’ll get to hear the show better than anyone.” He winked and walked away.