ShangriLaTroubl
10-22-2003, 11:51 AM
This is from a website of a limo driver who wrote of his story of doing a Fleetwood Mac show this tour :
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I profusely apologize for being away and not getting up to date responding to comments. I still have to do that as well. I have been driving quite a bit. In fact, this past week was kind of fun.I ended up driving Aerosmith on Wednesday and Saturday I drove Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac. It took 3 stretches, one SUV, 2 luggage vans and one sedan. And that is all you do. Drive. Well. Very well.
Your connection is the production manager or their security. You are basically instructed never to address the 'star' so it is not as if you have real contact.
Which is fine with me. A few moments in the presence of a celebrity doesn't seem to do it for me. What I really enjoy is the pandemonium back stage and observing the elaborate provisions, tons of equipment and seemingly tribes of people functioning at a feverish pace to ensure a smooth production. Fleetwood seemed much more organized and mellow compared to some. Aerosmith/Kiss was a traveling buzz show. Hundreds of crew furiously coordinating the dispersal of myriad carts and piles of equipment from both acts, one setting up , one leaving. Long silver semi-trucks easing between a line of parked Prevost tour buses, admirable beasts of burden, all purring quietly in a crooked row, people spilling in and out of them, carrying food, towels, clothes. Sometime I will have to describe having chow with the road crew. These shows usually set up kitchens and dining halls replete with some of the best food I have ever eaten. And the selections are as esoteric as the diet of the many stars they serve. The traveling kitchen and food production alone is mind boggling. In addition, most acts usually order local, which makes every pizza delivery boy's day. They get up to the gates at least. Fleetwood was very generous. It appeared that those delivering food were also given tickets. Three young girls from a local favorite, Graeters Ice Cream, were grinning ear to ear as they were escorted backstage to personally deliver some ice cream and they remained for the show. Fleetwood gave us, the drivers, backstage passes and tickets for out front as well.In some cases the drivers are not acknowledged at all, beyond being given instructions. It does not matter either way, but it is always more pleasant to be treated as humans . After all, if a driver ****s up, you have no star.
But the very, very best part is the police escort. It is just too much fun stopping traffic and running red lights, sirens going, folks staring. Then you hit the highway and you just simply concentrate on not ramming the stretch in front of you or running over the cops along side. You have to maintain about 5' or less between vehicles, (so no one can break into the line) at about 60 - 70 MPH, easy in a sedan, but in these boats, I tell ya, it requires some attention. I love it. It is just you and the road, the car in front of you, the traffic, and then it is a dance, choreography on the run, a dip, a weave, accelerate, ease the curve, tap it, brake it, it has life. It's driving. The people just happen to come along. Safely. Job done.
Now Fleetwood came in on their own 747 and none of the privates around here can handle that which meant we had to go out on the tarmac at CVG. Someone said it is the first time in a few years that they have allowed livery to access the tarmac there. Ease of entry at private airports varies, but you never get close at CVG without escort. But folks flying in private pretty much insist their car pull along side the plane as soon as she stops rolling. But anyway, we needed extra security and more cop cars to access the tarmac at the airport. We have to have a clean police record to have a chauffeurs license but, in some cases, everything is run through again when you are driving prior to an event and, in this case the cops already had our ID's. And that is the sweet part. All the limos rolling under the shadow of that huge jet. These strangers from far away living those lives your read about, now just simply tired campers all, dragging satchel and bags to the attendants. We stand by our cars. Not allowed to deviate from that in a secure area. And I look at the vast black canvas of sky above, moon sifting through fast moving clouds. The air is thrumming with jets rising into the night, thousands of lights glittering across the expanse of tarmac and runway. And I love this country. The complexity. The industry. The vitality. Just the logistics for tonight's simple concert in simple Cincinnati. That little event employed me and hundreds of others here in this town. Fleetwood made some bucks, we made some bucks, no one hurt, fun had by all. And to top it off, when Stevie got out of the car, she acknowledged me with a nod and a thanks, as did her security. Small thing. In my tiny little driving career, it was a first. I don't mind being invisible, but it's nice when someone notices too.
Well, when all were assured that nothing remained in the limos, we spiraled back out through the gates, cop behind, front, left and right. That's cool. That's security.
And that was a nights work. Too much frigging fun...
Anyway, I've been driving and I get home and I'm trying to put all these Islamic pieces together of this kind of Islamic puzzle I'm trying to comprehend and I am just damn well inundated with too much data, too many links, too unsettling, too depressing, and, ah hell, I've been AWOL from my post. Literally. I have abandoned the cause. No. I simply have only minimal brain power. And now, I have to get ready for a Lexington run. Which will be gorgeous today. Nothing finer than green Kentucky hills to drive my Lincoln through. A fine day in the mid west indeed.
Tomorrow I am off and I have a ton of stuff to post. So, please bear with me, my faithful few and valued readers. Here is the topic. Dubai. That is all I'm saying.
Bye
--------------
I profusely apologize for being away and not getting up to date responding to comments. I still have to do that as well. I have been driving quite a bit. In fact, this past week was kind of fun.I ended up driving Aerosmith on Wednesday and Saturday I drove Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac. It took 3 stretches, one SUV, 2 luggage vans and one sedan. And that is all you do. Drive. Well. Very well.
Your connection is the production manager or their security. You are basically instructed never to address the 'star' so it is not as if you have real contact.
Which is fine with me. A few moments in the presence of a celebrity doesn't seem to do it for me. What I really enjoy is the pandemonium back stage and observing the elaborate provisions, tons of equipment and seemingly tribes of people functioning at a feverish pace to ensure a smooth production. Fleetwood seemed much more organized and mellow compared to some. Aerosmith/Kiss was a traveling buzz show. Hundreds of crew furiously coordinating the dispersal of myriad carts and piles of equipment from both acts, one setting up , one leaving. Long silver semi-trucks easing between a line of parked Prevost tour buses, admirable beasts of burden, all purring quietly in a crooked row, people spilling in and out of them, carrying food, towels, clothes. Sometime I will have to describe having chow with the road crew. These shows usually set up kitchens and dining halls replete with some of the best food I have ever eaten. And the selections are as esoteric as the diet of the many stars they serve. The traveling kitchen and food production alone is mind boggling. In addition, most acts usually order local, which makes every pizza delivery boy's day. They get up to the gates at least. Fleetwood was very generous. It appeared that those delivering food were also given tickets. Three young girls from a local favorite, Graeters Ice Cream, were grinning ear to ear as they were escorted backstage to personally deliver some ice cream and they remained for the show. Fleetwood gave us, the drivers, backstage passes and tickets for out front as well.In some cases the drivers are not acknowledged at all, beyond being given instructions. It does not matter either way, but it is always more pleasant to be treated as humans . After all, if a driver ****s up, you have no star.
But the very, very best part is the police escort. It is just too much fun stopping traffic and running red lights, sirens going, folks staring. Then you hit the highway and you just simply concentrate on not ramming the stretch in front of you or running over the cops along side. You have to maintain about 5' or less between vehicles, (so no one can break into the line) at about 60 - 70 MPH, easy in a sedan, but in these boats, I tell ya, it requires some attention. I love it. It is just you and the road, the car in front of you, the traffic, and then it is a dance, choreography on the run, a dip, a weave, accelerate, ease the curve, tap it, brake it, it has life. It's driving. The people just happen to come along. Safely. Job done.
Now Fleetwood came in on their own 747 and none of the privates around here can handle that which meant we had to go out on the tarmac at CVG. Someone said it is the first time in a few years that they have allowed livery to access the tarmac there. Ease of entry at private airports varies, but you never get close at CVG without escort. But folks flying in private pretty much insist their car pull along side the plane as soon as she stops rolling. But anyway, we needed extra security and more cop cars to access the tarmac at the airport. We have to have a clean police record to have a chauffeurs license but, in some cases, everything is run through again when you are driving prior to an event and, in this case the cops already had our ID's. And that is the sweet part. All the limos rolling under the shadow of that huge jet. These strangers from far away living those lives your read about, now just simply tired campers all, dragging satchel and bags to the attendants. We stand by our cars. Not allowed to deviate from that in a secure area. And I look at the vast black canvas of sky above, moon sifting through fast moving clouds. The air is thrumming with jets rising into the night, thousands of lights glittering across the expanse of tarmac and runway. And I love this country. The complexity. The industry. The vitality. Just the logistics for tonight's simple concert in simple Cincinnati. That little event employed me and hundreds of others here in this town. Fleetwood made some bucks, we made some bucks, no one hurt, fun had by all. And to top it off, when Stevie got out of the car, she acknowledged me with a nod and a thanks, as did her security. Small thing. In my tiny little driving career, it was a first. I don't mind being invisible, but it's nice when someone notices too.
Well, when all were assured that nothing remained in the limos, we spiraled back out through the gates, cop behind, front, left and right. That's cool. That's security.
And that was a nights work. Too much frigging fun...
Anyway, I've been driving and I get home and I'm trying to put all these Islamic pieces together of this kind of Islamic puzzle I'm trying to comprehend and I am just damn well inundated with too much data, too many links, too unsettling, too depressing, and, ah hell, I've been AWOL from my post. Literally. I have abandoned the cause. No. I simply have only minimal brain power. And now, I have to get ready for a Lexington run. Which will be gorgeous today. Nothing finer than green Kentucky hills to drive my Lincoln through. A fine day in the mid west indeed.
Tomorrow I am off and I have a ton of stuff to post. So, please bear with me, my faithful few and valued readers. Here is the topic. Dubai. That is all I'm saying.
Bye