Getting the Call and Showing Up
Alright, so lemme tell ya about this stagehand life. It ain’t glamorous, not like folks think. You get a text or a call, sometimes last minute, sometimes a few days out. “Got a load-in, downtown arena, 7 AM sharp.” That’s it. No fancy details most times.
So, I drag myself outta bed, grab some coffee, throw on my work blacks and boots. Gotta have good boots, saves your feet and toes more times than you can count. Head down there, usually find the crew chief near the loading dock. Bunch of guys standing around, some you know, some new faces. Quick nod, maybe a quick chat about the last gig or how tired everyone is.
The Load-In Grind
Then the trucks roll in. This is where the real work starts. Doors open, ramp goes down, and it’s just a flood of road cases. Big ones, small ones, heavy ones, weird-shaped ones. You just grab one and push. Follow the tape lines on the floor, shout “points!” if you got something sharp or dangerous sticking out.
- Pushing cases
- Lifting truss
- Running cables (so many cables…)
- Setting up lights
- Building the actual stage deck
It’s hours of this. Non-stop. Your back starts talking to you, hands get sore. You see guys who’ve been doing it forever, they got the technique down, barely break a sweat. New guys? They’re usually wiped after the first truck. Teamwork’s key, though. You gotta communicate, watch each other’s backs. Someone yells “Heads up!”, you look up, simple as that. Saved me from a falling wrench once.
Show Time and Hurry Up and Wait
Once everything’s kinda in place, things might slow down a bit. Or speed up like crazy depending on the department. Sound guys dialing things in, lighting folks focusing beams. Sometimes you’re assigned to a specific spot, maybe follow-spot operator, maybe just waiting backstage to move something during the show. Lot of hurry up and wait. You find a corner, sit on a road case, maybe sneak a snack if you’re lucky and the crew chief ain’t looking too hard.
During the show, it’s mostly quiet backstage, dark. You just gotta be ready. Cue comes, you move that set piece, swap that mic, whatever they need. Then back to waiting. It’s weird, hearing the roar of the crowd just on the other side of a curtain, knowing you helped put the whole thing together, but you’re invisible.
Tear Down and Going Home
Show’s over, crowd leaves buzzing. For us? Round two begins. The load-out. It’s basically the load-in, but backwards and faster, ’cause everyone just wants to go home. Pack it up, roll it out, stack it in the truck just right. Everything’s gotta fit. Usually wraps up super late, or early morning depending how you look at it.
Finally, truck doors slam shut, ramp goes up. Quick goodbye to the crew, then drag yourself to your car. You’re exhausted, probably hungry, definitely sore. But hey, the show went up, it came down. Job done. Onto the next call. It’s a tough gig, physically demanding, weird hours. But there’s a strange satisfaction in it, seein’ it all come together. You won’t get rich, but you meet some characters and you definitely learn how to lift with your legs, not your back. Mostly.
