Bon Jovi came to Gillette the other night, along with Kid Rock. And if somebody wanted to experience all the possibilities that being on a response team entails, they should have spent the day with us. Because we did it all: Customer service, security, "special responsibilities," assisting other departments when needed, VIPs, an ejection, several situations defused, and walking a few miles. It was a long, but uniquely enjoyable day.
That's a rudimentary illustration of our travels. Our travels BEFORE we got up to the 300 level for our "routine" roaming. Just a quick rundown of what we did that's shown on this map. It starts with the red dot in the upper left.
1) Provide security/intermediation for VIPs checking in near the Pro Shop.
2) Escort a group of VIPs into the Stadium.
3) Escort them through field access.
4) Escort them across the field, to the tunnel where they began their backstage tours.
5) Backstage stop #1
6) Backstage stop #2
7) Walk around catwalk in front of stage (Backstage stop #3)
8) Escort VIPs to catering on the suite level
Now we switch to blue:
9) Escort a separate group of VIPs back to the check-in area by the Pro Shop to check-in for a different event.
10) Return to suite level to escort first group of VIPs to their seats adjacent to the stage.
11) Guide VIPs to "The Pit" by the stage.
And now to the lime green:
12) Help divert congestion at a backed-up gate to a larger gate on the other side of the Stadium.
13) Divert traffic from will-call to the larger gate to ease the pressure on the backed-up gate.
14) Assist field entrance in wristbanding people with field tickets.
And then we went on break. In a 7 hour span, we did quite a bit.
As you can see, we spent the first part of our day with some VIPs. Nobody famous. I was hoping for Belichick (he's a big Bon Jovi fan), but I knew that was a long shot. But they were VIPs nonetheless.
There were some ruffles, some wrinkles that needed smoothing, if you will. There always are, especially with concerts. So many overlapping layers of Stadium security, tour security, Stadium PR, tour PR, facilities, parking, concessions, and so on. All this division is necessary. These events are massive, and it's impossible to have one unified command structure, especially with concerts that all bring in their own nuances and staff. It's imperative, therefore, to be able to have these cells communicate with each other so the larger creature can function properly. I'll pat myself on the back and say I did a good job being an intermediary between the tour people running the VIP stuff, and the Stadium.
Before the concert, I checked the weather. I don't know why, Gillette Stadium's climate is generated by a device Coach Belichick has hidden in the practice fieldhouse.
And when the Pats aren't playing, he puts it on Random.
The forecast called for "isolated" thunderstorms. A storm isolated itself over Gillette for a good hour, dropping buckets of rain. The VIP people fled into the Pro Shop, as did we. Then that started to flood. And not gradually, either. I thought the Stadium had hit an iceberg and was going down by the bow into the briny deep.
I had my Customer Service Moment (CSM) in the rain. One of the VIPs got lost trying to find the check-in table. She had previously been lost trying to park. She was on the phone with the woman in charge of registering the VIPs. Apparently, she was outside the Club entrance. I thought it was the one on the other side of the Pro Shop. I donned my poncho and said "I'm going out there to get her. I'll be back." And as the heroic music swelled, I ventured into Waterworld.
I checked the nearby Club entrance. She wasn't there. I turned to go back, then said to myself "I'm already drenched, might as well check the other Club entrance." That's at the far end of the Stadium. It's about a 300 yard walk or 1/6 of a nautical mile. She was at the second entrance. Good job, Rob.
The rain lifted, the floodwaters receded, and after dispatching a dove out into the Patriot Place Plaza, and having it return carrying a leaf in its beak, we ventured back outside.
Eventually, we escorted a few dozen VIPs to the stage. These VIPs must have been VVIPs because they got a real good tour. We were told to hang back and make sure stragglers didn't get lost or anything. We went under the stage, then went around the catwalk, and along with the guests, we enjoyed a thorough tour.
I had no idea being a musician was such an athletic endeavor. This catwalk was maybe 4.5 feet wide, about 6 feet off the ground, and slippery from the earlier rain. Lights, monitors, and plugs studded the slim path, and I could only imagine trying to walk on it in the dark, while singing/playing.
And wow, was the view from the stage surreal. I've been on the floor, I've been up against the stage. But never on it. I was hoping one of my friends attending the show would spot me and take a picture, because it'd be pretty cool looking. We were just hanging back a few yards behind the tour group, as they took pictures of the stage and themselves. But I think only one or two people I know saw me, and they were working too, so no pictures :-(
Then there was a lot of walking and riding elevators. To the suites, down to the concourse, to the Pro Shop, up to the suites, down to the floor, and finally we released our VIPs into the wild.
As we escorted the last group of them to their seats, one of them said "Thank you," to all of us.
"No, thank you," I said. "We got a backstage tour thanks to you guys"
I thought we might be able to take our break, but it was bad timing for that. The gates were getting jammed up pretty bad, so we were sent to one of them to help redirect people to a larger gate. On the way there, in the tunnel, we walked by Bon Jovi. I was disinterested.
Token helping out at gates, which is what our job is when they get really backed up. Redirecting people to a less jammed gate, siphoning traffic from one gate to another, that kind of thing. Then once we got all the people through the gate, the field access inside the Stadium was just as jammed. So we helped in wristbanding people. I'd never clipped bands to other people's wrists before, and I wasn't very good at it.
Oh, I should mention that the Friday night before this concert, I was a good boy and went to sleep at 12:30am. Only to inadvertently wake up at 3. After watching Rocko's Modern Life for a few hours, I took a nap from 8 to 10:30.
We also had to get there earlier than everyone else in order to do the VIP thing. I was so tired, that after planning on getting a small pizza for dinner, and fantasizing about that pizza all day, I got a chicken sandwich when we finally went on break. I just totally forgot what I'd wanted all day long and got what I typically order for Revs games.
Anyway, with the VIP details done, all the guests inside, and my stomach flooded with Mountain Dew, we went up to the 300s. We spent most of our time doing standard stuff: answering questions, making sure people weren't clogging the staircases, that sort of thing. We were supposed to go around to all the concession stands to shut down the alcohol, but every one of the stands shut themselves down a few minutes before we were told to do so. I didn't mind.
There were a few near-incidents. A guy tripped over his buddy's shoes and fell into the people the row in front of him. Both guys were very cooperative and coherent. Besides, tripping over a shoe can happen after the house lights go out, quite easily. We took their info down and bade them to enjoy the rest of the show without further incident. Which they did.
There was a sort of false alarm as we were told something serious was happening on a ramp leading up to the 300s. We ran for a bit, but upon arrival, whatever was happening had already happened. That's something that occurs quite a bit on a response team. It sucks to rush to get somewhere, only to find nothing. Then again, there are a lot of somethings that would be unfortunate to have to find at the end of that rushing.
After guzzling down water and stretching my quads, a fan told us that people in front of her were smoking "something" and passing it around. We went up to the section, and 3 rows of people pointed out the two culprits. So we brought them down to the concourse and talked.
It's not common for several rows of fans to indicate strangers. It's quite damning. So I suggested to the guy that we bring him to another section, and that he stop smoking. He denied smoking anything, and refused to move to another section. He couldv'e just admitted that he was smoking a cigarette, and promised to stop, then I would've been fine with letting him return to his seat.
Then he started swearing. Swearing is against the rules, but I'm not going to toss a guy just for swearing. Being a jerk, on the other hand, that's different. Calling me a "pussy" because I won't tell him what my name is, that's different. Getting in my face, repeatedly saying "Search me! Search me!" That's different.
I don't like kicking people out anymore, especially from the 300s. It's a long walk down. It's additional paperwork at the end of the night. So even after a long and occasionally unnerving day, my mounting irritability is tempered by laziness, which results in a calm, reasonable attitude. It's a good balance.
I kept playing Let's Make a Deal with him.
First Game:
Door #1: Admit you smoked, promise you'll stop, and go back to your seat.
or
Door #2: Don't admit you smoked, be belligerent, but move to another section to avoid any further incident with the dozen or so people who have had enough of you.
He chose neither door.
Second Game:
Door #1: Move to another section.
or
Door #2: Walk out of the building with my team.
He chose neither door, but was subconsciously striving for Door #2, I think.
Third Game:
Door #1: Walk out of the building with my team.
or
Door #2: Be escorted by Police.
He chose #2.
He kept accusing me of being on a power trip, but if he only knew how little I wanted to extend my day with added paperwork. If he only said "I was smoking a butt. It won't happen again."
We didn't know what he was smoking, just that people around them said he and others were passing it around. One even gave us her information and a witness statement. The cops didn't find anything illicit on him, or detect any sort of intoxication. I didn't mind his swearing much. I curse like a sailor with Tourette's who had truck drivers for parents, although not when I'm on the clock. But when he said "I was just trying to enjoy the fucking show," and I said "Watch your language," and he retorted "Kid Rock was swearing," I mean this meatball was just asking for trouble.
The guy was an escalator. The kind of punk at a poker table who just has try bluffing at every pot. And I wasn't the only one getting annoyed. He had a crack at everyone. The usher supervisor came by to try to mediate, but he gave the usher supervisor guff. Then he mouthed off to the cops. We gave him every opportunity to stay in the Stadium and enjoy the rest of the show, but he made his choices.
Ultimately, though, it was my choice. That's not a power tripping statement, it's just how it is. "He's leaving, either with just us, or with you guys. That part of it's up to him," I said to one of the cops.
He violated multiple policies, all minor in nature, but more importantly he was irritating guests then refused to cooperate after violating those policies. Instead of doing what 99.9% of Stadium smokers do (say "Sorry, I didn't know I couldn't smoke up here"), he decided to lie, to get tough, and refuse to cooperate in any way.
Not much happened after that. There was a spat between two groups of fans. "She threw a quarter at me." "She flipped me off." She said vs. she said. We just relocated one group to empty seats a few sections over.
We bumped into the group who made the quarter throwing accusation, and they went over the whole sequence of events, including a vivid ballistic analysis of the coin's trajectory. I made a "back and to the left" joke that went over their heads.
Get it? Over their heads? My sense of humor is hit or miss (like Ace-King), but when it hits, it hits hard (like Ace-King). If they'd seen JFK or were big Seinfeld fans, they would have laughed.
Then the night fizzled out. It took its time fizzling out, though. I didn't turn the ignition in my car until about 2:15. By then my contact lenses had sealed and laminated my eyeballs, my knees and ankles stopped sending me pain signals as they gave up on life, and my brain cells flickered out one-by-one, like overworked light bulbs.
We had a new guy on our team; someone who'd just started working. This was his first event at Gillette Stadium. He told me this when we were underneath the stage. "Yeah," I said, "the enjoyable part about being on a roam team is that it's never routine. We always do something unexpected."
He learned that right away, no doubt about it.
I wish I went to the show... Tell the new guy on your team I said good luck!
ReplyDelete