What not to do (that I would definitely do again) to make a show.

In September of 2016 I had just gotten my dream camera (Canon 5D Mark IV) and was psyching myself up for its first “real” shoot, 3 Doors Down at Charlotte Motor Speedway. I immediately booked a flight from Florida and survived the next few weeks by relying on a reservoir of nervous energy, as well as projecting my excitement on any innocent bystander within earshot. As the monumental day crept closer and closer the Sunshine state, in all of its ironic glory, quite literally decided to rain on my parade; hurricane season was upon us.

My initial reaction wasn’t much more than mild irritation at having to reevaluate my plan of reckless abandon… would I need to board the windows? Prepare to be out of work for a few days upon returning? What about the animals? These questions became the bane of my silly little existence until my flight got canceled and sh*t got real. I cried, I laughed, I felt an unhealthy amount of animosity towards inanimate objects. I was on the verge of surrendering to nature, when in my desperate brilliance, I decided to get in the car.

By 3 a.m. I was completely immersed in my love affair with the open road, closing in on the Georgia/Carolina border in record time. I laughed at the thought of missing out on a once in a lifetime experience because of what I described then as “a little rain,” and like clockwork, my speculation prompted nature to humble me like never before. I had just made my way into South Carolina, and could already hear the reverb and collective praise that such great talent was bound to evoke. Between the sky crying and being high on anticipation, I almost missed the tree covering all four lanes of Interstate 95. By the time I realized what was in front of me it was too late to do anything other than flip my car into a ditch or accelerate and hope for the best, which was my most comfortable method of dealing with things. Somehow my small but mighty Hyundai managed to traverse the obstacle, but not without bodily damage. Luckily, a nearby rest area served as shelter until night fall and my shakes subsided.

At daybreak, I was able to get a hold of a tow truck driver who was willing to brave the storm. Although no mechanic shops were open, he took me to every hotel in the area… all of which had no vacancy. I finally settled for waiting it out in a parking lot, and crawled back into the driver’s seat of a vehicle I could no longer drive. Or could I?

After ten minutes of pseudo patience, I decided to attempt to take back roads to a friend’s house in Charlotte. I crept along slowly and carefully, this time dodging trees and miscellaneous debris. A trip that should’ve taken two hours took five, and I pulled into the driveway right as my car decided it had had enough. The engine was spent. With about an hour until showtime, I gave a hasty hello to my friend, and prioritized in the only way that made sense… get there, and figure everything else out later. The Uber arrived quickly, and was unmarked. It was driven by a man more concerned with my company than my destination. We conveniently got lost, right before he child locked all four doors. After the previous night’s ordeal, I was convinced I was in the twilight zone. Finally, after multiple promises to call him for a ride back home, he “fixed” his GPS. Upon arriving at the venue, I used the time crunch as a scapegoat to jump out of the vehicle and run for the hills, or rather, the front gate. I had made it within seconds of the band starting their first song.

As usual, the show failed to disappoint and went by much too quickly. I had no idea how to use my fancy new camera but winged it anyway… it paid off. Once the music came to an end and the crew worked tirelessly to put everything back in its proper place, I was able to catch up with two outstanding humans. Both the guitar tech and tour manager had become friends of mine after we were acquainted at a previous festival. We piled in their car and took a ride to band’s warehouse. On the way, I recounted the past twenty four hours, and after a few minutes of taking in the information, their sentiments were the same: I had to find a way to incorporate this story into my work.

Here we are, six years later, and this is one promise I am proud to keep.