This piece has been adapted from a longer work about my days as a roadie for largely forgettable rock bands in the 1970’s. It responds to the Six Sentence Challenge prompt word of ‘band’.
This was a new band I was ‘auditioning’ for as their full-time roadie, in a sticky-carpeted outer suburban hotel where, as the afternoon wore on and the band ground out their set and the beer flowed, a group of young men walked in and stood surveying the scene with cold eyes.
The hairs on the back of my neck told me all I needed to know as their leader strode to the bar, ordered a round of beers and marched through the dancing crowd until he got the result he wanted, a collision with a dancing man.
The fully intended brawl began and chaos ensued, with a chair sailing through the air and striking a heavily pregnant woman in the head and her partner hurling himself into the melee to ‘avenge’ her.
The band fled to the back lane, leaving me to defend their gear as best I could by shoving people off the stage with a mike stand and threatening brain damage with its base to the chief aggressors.
Then, as suddenly as they came, the barbarians left, laughing amongst themselves on their way out, proudly displaying their injuries and the band returned cautiously to watch as I restored order on stage and ask if I was OK.
I said, ‘Yeah, sure’ and as they headed to the bar, I made my exit and drove away. The band had failed the audition.