Strung Tight (The Road To Rocktoberfest #1) - Ann Lister Page 0,77
I tried calling Dallas a few more times along the way and left messages as well, but he still hadn’t replied to anything I’d sent, which concerned me. By early afternoon, the buses had exited off the highway, and we were now on a more rural road that endlessly went on through the vast nothingness of the desert. On the far horizon, there was a line of mountains and hills all in an amazing red clay color that blazed brightly in the sun with the blue sky as a backdrop. It was breathtaking, and I could feel myself getting emotional that I was even experiencing this adventure at all.
We were slowing down to take another turn onto a dirt road. Dagger’s bus was in front of us, kicking up quite a cloud of dust, but as we came over a small rise, my phone pinged with a text message.
Dagger: Tell the guys to get ready to look out the windows on the left side.
Me: Will do.
“Hey, Dagger is telling us to check out something coming up on the left side of the bus,” I informed everyone, and they all hurried to take a look. The wind must have shifted because, suddenly, the dust from Dagger’s bus was gone, and we could see what was ahead nestled in a valley below the rise of our current elevation. It looked like a small city, but we could recognize the enormous stage outlined in a weave pattern of metal piping to create the stage rig. Speakers hung from the frame, and roped-off sections for the concert-goers spread out from the stage as far as the eye could see.
“That’s the venue!” Mike shouted.
“Fucking hell, it’s huge!” Potter cheered.
“I can’t believe we’ll be playing here,” Dixon said in awe.
As we got closer, more and more people were seen walking along the side of the road. We also passed a massive parking lot, the campground, and a few shuttle buses hauling people back and forth. Everything was exactly how Dallas had described it—and then some. Completely surreal, and at that moment, I knew we were all feeling the exact same thing because, suddenly, everyone on the bus went quiet. The closer we got to the venue, the more still we became. It was eerie.
Mike squeezed in beside me at the window and bumped my shoulder. “You okay?” he asked me.
“Can you believe this?” I asked. “We’re actually here and going to play on that stage.”
“It’s a rush, man,” Mike said.
“I would have been thrilled if Dagger had brought us to this event as spectators,” I admitted. “Performing at a show this big is freaking unreal.”
“Totally, but we’re going to kick ass, my friend,” Mike said. “Our setlist is hot as shit.”
“I can’t wait to play,” Dixon said from the other side of me. “This is our chance to show the rock world who the fuck we are.”
“I’ll be happy if I don’t pass out on stage from fear,” I grumbled.
“Stop that shit,” Mike admonished. “That is not going to happen. I won’t let it.”
The bus slowed to almost a stop, and we had a few seconds to read the sign on the left as we turned into the property that hosted the event coordinators before the sign was behind us.
“Shit, I wish we could have taken a photo of that sign,” I said.
“I’m sure there are other ones on the grounds up near the stage area,” Mike said.
As we drove deeper onto the land, we could see what looked like miles of chain-link fencing that designated the perimeter of the grounds. Along one side of the fence was a line of merchandise booths and food vendors. Grills were already fired up and cooking what looked like burgers and sausages.
“Are we selling t-shirts or anything?” Potter asked.
“Yes, don’t you remember that day when Dagger brought the photographer to rehearsal?” I asked him. “He posed us up against the warehouse wall and asked us to look all angsty.”
“That was for merchandise?” Potter questioned.
“He took several shots, and Dagger was going to have a bunch of stuff made,” I replied. “Whether or not any of it sells is anyone’s guess.”
“That’s cool,” Dixon said. “Never thought there’d be a day where my face would be on the front of a t-shirt.”
“I agree.” Mike teased. “I would have guessed a far higher probability of seeing your mug shot on TV, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, and wanted for some kind of felony.”