Pictures and Some Memories

It's nine thousand degrees on this tour bus.

Okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but life on the Vans Warped Tour was extremely hot and sweaty. How some people thrive in the 115° heat, I'll never know. For a redhead, I could tan pretty well compared to my paler redheaded counterparts, but I still felt like I'd end up melting if I was in the heat for longer than an hour. Walking from the bus to the stage made me want to shrivel up sometimes, but it was all apart of the job.

If your assuming that I'm a musician, sadly, you'd be wrong, despite the many rounds of drunken karaoke I've participated in. I'm just a roadie, or a technician, to be exact. I also help with merch, and I'm sort of a hand to anyone who needs it, whether it be in the sound booth (or tent, on this tour) or by fetching things that the band needs. When I'm not touring, I'm a professional artist with a master's in the subject. Galleries and I are becoming rare, however, with how much touring I've been doing since I've graduated. However, I try to maintain at least four per year to keep people interested. It may be busy, but I wouldn't trade this lifestyle for the world. When I moved to New York to study art at NYU, I never expected myself to fall in love with the chaos that is touring. The constant change was exciting, especially since I'd only explored my hometown of Austin, Texas, my mother's hometown of McAllen, Texas, and Huntington Beach, California, where I finished out the second half of my high school years. When I was seventeen, change was terrifying and something I avoided. But, as a 23 year old, I absolutely loved to change the flow and it was the reason I loved touring so much. New cities, new adventures, and new inspiration were only a few hours drive (or flight) away.

My alarm that alerted me that we had 45 minutes until set time started to beep, briefly taking me out of my thoughts. I jumped out of my bottom bunk (won by an intense game of flip cup), climbed to the junk bunk (I silently, jokingly cursed my mother's name for making me five foot three) and grabbed my penny board, then went to the back lounge and nudged Matt Flyzik, our tour manager, out of his short lived nap, grabbed my all access laminates, and followed the assistant tour manager, Matt Colussy, out of the bus. I stepped onto the board and hoped like hell that I wouldn't accidentally knock someone down again-- I was possibly one of the worst coordinated people on this tour and I've had my share of speed wobble falls and run ins with innocent people.

As I coasted behind the metal fence that separated the backstage area from the crowd areas, I smiled and waved as band members of bands that I've admired for years nodded, shouted, and greeted me as I passed. It was so surreal to know that bands like Every Time I Die and Anberlin knew who I was and enjoyed my company just because of the band I worked for. It never failed to humble me and remind me of just how lucky I was to have this opportunity, all because of the chance meeting of my best friend, Carly.

Carly and I met on our first day at NYU, when we were moving into our dorm. We were assigned to be roommates, and due to a last minute switch in room assignments, we didn't have a single clue about what the other was like. She was hanging up posters and looked like she had just finished crying and was trying to hold herself together. I would learn later on that she hardly ever cried-- this was one of three times I've seen her cry in our six years of friendship. Anyway, she was upset because she'd just said goodbye to her family, friends, and like most teenage girls, she was devastated to leave behind her boyfriend, Alex, in their hometown of Towson, Maryland. I was somewhat in the same situation as she, having ended my year and a half long relationship with my high school boyfriend, Zack, only hours before arriving. However, I had done plenty of crying the morning of, and was waiting for nightfall to do the silent cry before drifting off to sleep. So, when I walked in and saw a tall blonde haired girl sniffling as she tacked up a Foo Fighters poster, I felt a connection similar to the ones I had with my friends I'd made back in California. And trust me, that was a good thing.

"Sorry," she says when she notices me putting my luggage down on the bed on the other side of the room. "Hi, I'm Carly Thompson, and I swear to you, I won't be nearly this big of a mess... most of the time."

"I'm Andria Dawson, but I go by Andi. I pretty much want to crawl into a dark hole instead of pretending to be excited about orientation in an hour."

She smiled and paused to blow her nose with a tissue. "I think I'm going to like sharing this tiny room with you. Hell, you've already spoken exactly how I feel and it's hardly been a minute."

Post orientation, we had two days to settle in, explore the campus, and get used to the atmosphere before school officially went into session. In those two days, we bonded and were already good friends when we dove into the swarm of students the first day. Almost a week later, we knew each other's life stories and understood our quirks, like how I adored pickles but hated cucumbers by themselves, and her irrational fear of dragonflies. Soon, we were going to parties and concerts together and looked out for each other like sisters.

One constant thing that she looked forward to (and eventually I) on the weekends were Alex's visits. I learned quickly that this inappropriate, bandana obsessed kid was in a band that was already signed to a record label and had an EP and album out, despite barely being a high school graduate. I remembered when he scored a gig at some stupidly small club in Brooklyn and how excited he and his bandmates were. I was pleasantly surprised at their raw talent and commanding stage presence at such a young age, knocking down any expectation less than the best I had before. They were a stark contrast to the heavy metal and rock that I listened to, but alike to my love for blink-182, they opened my horizons and taste in music in the best way. I instantly knew that they'd be a band to contend with.

Fast forward to the week before Christmas break. Finals have worn mine and Carly's brains down and we were fried with studying and trying to finish papers and pieces like there was no promise of tomorrow. Alex calls, and before she even puts it on speakerphone for me to talk as well, I can hear him yelling through the phone. The band just scored the opportunity to tour the East Coast all the way to Texas, starting the incoming Sunday all the way through to three days until we were due back to school. They would tour with two local bands that were a bit larger in terms of their fanbases that they all looked up to for ages, and needless to say, he was just a little excited.

"I wish that I could go," I sighed after Carly declared that she was joining them. By this time, I was so damn close to my breaking point because of the harder than expected first semester of school and was still very much messed up because of what happened with my ex. I missed my family to bits, but I didn't want to return to California and run the risk of running into said ex. I couldn't face going back to south Texas, either, due to the death of my grandfather that I loved dearly only a year before. Technically, I was stuck in New York and as much as I loved the city, I didn't want to be alone for Christmas.

Alex, thankfully, didn't skip a beat. "I don't want to be that guy, but you said you played guitar in the past and know how to tune it and such, right?"

"Right.."

"Would you be willing to put some work in while you're with us?"

"Of course," I said so quickly that it came out as a jumbled mess. I was so desperate that I was willing to pay for gas and meals if it meant that I could go. "Yes, you can count on me if I went along with y'all."

"'Y'all'" he snickers, making fun of my southern accent, like many of my other friends. It was never ending, even to this day. "I'll talk to the guys about it, but I don't see why they'd say no. They all think you're pretty rad and they'd be crazy to say no to having a single girl on tour with us. Plus, Carly'll kill me if I say no."

She shrugs. "It's true."

He calls again only an hour later and says that I received an enthusiastic yes from not only the band, but their parents, too. See, for some weird reason, I gave off the 'responsible' vibe to their parents, which wasn't exactly untrue, but this is me we're talking about. My priorities involve trying to beat Jack, their guitarist, at staring contests and eating my weight in tacos. How in the hell I got the responsible role, I will never know. Anyway, after convincing my parents that the trip wouldn't effect my studies whatsoever, and Carly explicitly telling her own that she wasn't going to make it for Christmas, we packed our bags and took a train down to Baltimore to join the guys on their first real tour.

Those three weeks were life changing. Sure, the van was exceptionally crowded with six of us and all of our gear and luggage, but the time we had was incredible. From seeing the Skyway that We The Kings wrote Skyway Avenue about to revisiting Austin and the six of us plus Rian and Zack's moms-- who followed us in their own car to make sure we were responsible young adults making responsible choices (that's how Alex phrased it, but honestly, they were there to make sure Jack didn't drive and that we didn't kill ourselves)-- all staying at my mother's house, where they met my younger half sister, who had just turned four. My mom had plenty of leftovers for us all to enjoy, and let me tell you, she made the best carne asada. I absolutely loved my dual heritage, being half Hispanic and half white, which surprised the band and the mother's. They stopped their shocked attitudes as soon as I spoke fluent Spanish with my mother to prove a point. We all learned that my older brother, Ryan, shared the same exact name as their drummer, Rian, right down to the spelling of their middle names, as they both first learned upon meeting when we arrived. I also learned so much about myself as well as everyone else on that tour. We learned patience, tolerance, and how to eat on a five dollar budget, at least, until my mother gave us a generous 'donation' at the end of the tour.

That tour was also the one that put the band on the map, so to speak. Soon they dropped their local record deal and signed to Hopeless Records, where they released Put Up or Shut Up and signed on to our first taste of Warped. After that, we toured the album So Wrong, It's Right are now touring for Nothing Personal, their latest release. Meanwhile, Carly worked hard and got her degree in three years in Music and Production with a minor in business, while I did the same and received one in Art/Art History with a minor in business as well, so I could have my galleries run by myself and no one else, as well as make myself more qualified to work with bands. Though, I have to say, I've been with All Time Low for six years and only worked with other bands if they absolutely needed it while we toured with them. And most of time, when I worked with the other bands, they treated me like shit, unlike my boys in ATL. With them, I was apart of the family, not just a member of the crew. I could write a book on how to treat your crew, but that was beside the point. Through and through, this band had been there for me at my highest and lowest points, and I was eternally grateful.

"Oh my god! Are you crazy!? Watch where the fuck you're going, bitch!" a fifteen year old girl shouts as I swerve around her to avoid hitting her.

I swivel around and stop. "Excuse me? I'm just trying to do my job, and this is the fastest way to get there before my manager yells at me."

She widens her eyes in recognition. I looked at the All Time Low t-shirt she is wearing and wince. "You're Andi, the guitar tech, right?"

I nod quickly. "Yeah, and I'm about to be late. Their set starts soon and I haven't even started tuning their guitars, plus, you're going the wrong way, hon. Stage is this way."

She looks at her friend, who is just as wide-eyed as she is. Why they were freaking out, I had no clue. I was just a tech, not one of the members. Damn Alex and his obsession with tweeting pictures of all of us.

"Do you think we could get a picture with you and the guys?" she dares to ask, even though she just cursed me out.

I remain professional. Cursing out fifteen year olds would be low, even for me, no matter how infuriating they were. "I'm afraid I can't allow that right now. However, I think they have a signing at the Alternative Press tent after their set starting at 4:45. You can get pictures with them then, and if I'm not needed elsewhere, I'll be there as well. Sorry, I've just gotta get to the stage before Flyzik yells at me."

They both nod. "Of course, yeah! Sorry about before, by the way."

"Its no problem," I said, giving them a fake smile before stepping back on my board and riding off, passing by the Matt's again before getting to the trailer, where half of the band was warming up.

"God damn it, where are Alex and Jack?" I ask in exasperation to Rian, who was tapping away with his drumsticks on his practice pad. "And Carly? Of all people, why is she gone? We have 30 minutes till set time, and you know how Kenny can be If we're even a second late!"

"They went with Vinny and Travis and Danny from We The Kings to go to Wal-Mart for something. I don't know what, though," he shrugs, continuing to drum once again.

"At least Kurily is here so I can start my job," I sighed.

"Chill out, they'll be here," Danny, the other guitar tech, says, giving me a reassuring smile. "You seem a little bit more pissy than usual today."

I snarled under my breath. "Ha ha. I just had to deal with this girl that I didn't even hit curse me out, then recognized who I was and had the audacity to ask if I could get her to meet the guys."

"Did you penny board here?" he asks. I kicked it up with my foot and put it in the trailer, to show that I did. "That'll do it. Don't let it get to you. Kids are cruel."

"Uh, yeah," I replied. "How many picks do we have left? Do I need to call for more?"

"We've got one bag for each guitarist. That should last us until the end of the week, knowing how generous they are when giving them to the fans. Go ahead and call, we could use them," he says, going into work mode along with me. I was glad to work with Danny, because alike to myself, he knew when to work and when to play, and rarely mixed the two. He and I knew the preferences of not only the band, but ourselves and they were very similar.

I got to work on replacing the weak string on Alex's acoustic to eliminate the risk of it breaking on stage, taking no time at all. I wasn't exactly sure of the time that I discovered this, but I could hear pitch as clear as a bird's whistle. This obviously came in handy when tuning, as I could give one strum to the strings, hear exactly what the problem was, fiddle with the knobs a bit and have it tuned all before the sound died out. I attributed this trait to my mother's side of the family, because that was where most of the church singers and musicians came from. My grandfather, too. He was the one to introduce me to guitar as a hobby all those years ago, and encouraged me going into my teen years. I eventually gave it up because I never thought I was any good, and focused on my artwork and dance, although, look at where that put me now. I still pursued my passion for art, but I was more tied to my musical side now more than ever.

Danny never failed to seem amazed when I passed it back only a few minutes after I began. He used a digital pedal tuner and always marveled at how I brushed it off and just went by ear. He tried multiple times and no matter how many times I tried to explain that it was like an instinct for me to hear the pitch, he never succeeded to do what I did. It didn't make him less of a technician in my eyes, or anyone else's on the crew, though. He was still quick, thorough, and efficient, and loved what he did. In the end, that's what mattered, at least to me.

Just as we began to wheel the guitars up the ramp leading to the stage, our missing people appear, carrying black reusable bags and coffee. Meanwhile, Danny and Travis from We The Kings wheeled coolers behind them, a beer already in their hands. I checked my watch and saw that it was fifteen minutes to five, so at least it was an appropriate time of day to drink. I was curious, though, because they all had an awfully large amount of stuff that definitely weren't groceries.

"What's with all of the stuff?" I ask, then gasp. "Are you guys planning a prank without me??"

"Of course not!" Carly assures me instantly, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "C'mon, babe, do you really think we'd leave the mastermind out?"

"....Well, no, but you didn't ask me to go with you!" I point out.

"Because we knew you'd freak out if we happened to be late, so we got reinforcements," she said, gesturing to Travis and Danny. "They played earlier so they volunteered."

"Oh, okay," I replied before saying hello to the both of them, trying to get answers out of them about it. They said they didn't know anything, though, which bummed me out a little before I went back to work with the guitars and amps to make sure they were in harmony and working properly.

Meanwhile, Alex began to play with crowd as he tested his mic, narrating the crew's every move. "Oh shit, that chord though! Damn, Andi, that sounded good. Oh, nope, there it is, you fucked up. Hahahahaha, oh no! Don't throw things! That's unprofessional. You're fired."

"Good luck trying to find someone who can change your guitar strings in less than five minutes, dickhead," I replied into the other mic onstage as well as the channel that our in-ear monitors were on. "And don't even think of asking for me back. You can make your own catering runs from now on."

The crowd oh'd as I got back to work. "Are you just mad that no one will snuggle with you in your bunk? 'Cause Jack's free to do that for you at any time, right, Jack?"

"But that means I can't do that with you," Jack says.

"You can have both," Carly reminds him.

"Shut the fuck up already," I laugh into the channel.

Soon enough, their set time approaches and we trade places onstage. The begin with Lost In Stereo and get the crowd instantly hyped out of their bored, waiting state and into a party mood. The maximum amount of set time was 30 minutes, and they quickly approached it with their banter and song play, even getting through Remembering Sunday with Carly, who sang the duet with Alex like an angel, fairly quickly. However, Kenny, the strictest stage manager in Warped Tour history, didn't give them the five minute warning, and no one seemed as concerned as I was of them running over their set time.

"What the hell?" I asked, but I only received blank stares and shrugs. I looked at Travis, my fellow ginger, and asked if he knew anything about this.

"Uh, no," he said, a bit too quickly. I sighed and looked away, just as Danny and Carly both gave him a look that I didn't understand.

"Listen, you guys have been so fucking amazing, San Diego, we love you. Before we play our last song, we want to do something for one of our dear friends. Danny, Travis, bring her out, will ya?"

Gentle, yet firm, grips enclosed my arms as I was lead onstage to face the crowd. I was scared, not because of being in front of the crowd, but because I didn't know what was going to happen next. "This girl is turning 24 tomorrow and refuses to let us do anything for it, so we're taking matters into our own hands," Alex says as I glared at him. I didn't like big deals made over me, especially my birthday. Not since... No, I wouldn't think of that now. It was in the past.

"Didn't you just fire her?" Jack says into his mic.

"Not for real, you dingus," he replies.

"How bad is this going to be, if you're both forced to hold me here?" I asked Travis and Danny.

They looked at each other and smirked. "Its like an, I dunno, eight on a scale of one to ten," Danny says with a shrug. My eyes widen, making them both snicker.

"Its not funny!" I hissed, turning away. They did, however, loosen their grip slightly.

"... this girl has been there when Jack nearly got arrested in Toronto and used her persuasive powers to talk the officer out of arresting him, she's paid out of her own pocket to give us an extra bit of cash when we were desperate for food on a long tour, she's opened her home, as well as her family's homes to us when we needed a place to sleep, and I mean, come on. She just fixed my acoustic in minutes. Andi, I love you, but please don't hate us for this..." Alex says, then it seemed that everyone reached into their pockets at the same time and pulled out a colored can.

Oh, shit.

I felt it, warm and sticky in the most uncomfortable way, as the silly string tangled into my thick red hair, coated my shoes, my arms, and every place in between. Travis and Danny both let go as well and started as I just sat there and took the ambush. Then, one by one, as if it were fucking planned by them all (and knowing them, it probably was), they lowered their cans, and I was then ambushed into a group hug.

I felt claustrophobic and sick, humiliated to the core. I could see the signs that read "Happy Birthday, Andi" and such just over Jack's shoulder, whom I was currently being held by out of the entire group there. My chest felt tight. I tried with all of my might to push that memory away, as they all started singing "happy birthday" to me. I couldn't, though. All I could see were deep green eyes, that proud smirk, his tall frame. I could almost feel his calloused fingers on my skin again, and see the surprise party he and our friends threw to make up for the shitty sixteenth birthday I'd had the year before, all those years ago. I felt an overwhelming yearning for it all again, but knew it couldn't happen. I was six years too late, and had an entirely different life now.

"Andi...?" I heard someone murmur softly. The calloused fingers I felt on the palm of my hand belonged to Alex, not who I wanted, and I instantly felt embarrassed, not for the surprise they'd ambushed me with, but for still thinking of something so long ago and confusing it with my best friend. I sniffled pathetically then, completely mortified.

"Andi, you okay?" Alex whispered down to me. Danny made eye contact with me and took the cue to start messing around with Jack, to occupy attention elsewhere. I reminded myself to thank him later for this.

"I'm fine," I said as best as I could, but he clearly didn't believe me. I took my hand away from his and started peeling off the dried silly string, trying to breathe as evenly as I could. I felt edgy, filled with an adrenaline rush although I wasn't sure why.

"You're a terrible liar," he says, making me look at him just as Carly starts to make her way over. "Did we embarrass you? That wasn't the plan, we just wanted to do--"

"I know, I know. I'm just... I'm good," I stumble over my words, trying to put on a convincing smile. "You know how I am with surprises."

He chuckles, obviously remembering a different memory than I. "Yeah, I do."

Kenny gives the signal for the band to either start their last song or get off the stage. I make the quick switch of guitars for Alex before finally getting off the stage, where I put the guitar back on the rack and pick away the silly string I'd been covered in. Carly walked over and helped as she sang along to Dear Maria, while Danny and Travis leave for their signing after a quick, lighthearted apology and goodbye. .She catches my eye briefly, watching me carefully and gauging whether or not I was upset or into the whole prank. I could tell that she caught on to at least some of the truth, but she didn't say anything, and for that, I was grateful.

However, later that night, as we started to move on to the next city, Anaheim, Flyzik read out the schedule to the crew in the back lounge, my previous feelings from before resurfaced as he announced that we'd be off tomorrow and working on Sunday. The band had a press day scheduled for most of the day, while the crew had nothing to do. Carly gave me a look, one that said she'd kill me if I continued to avoid the town I used to call home. Which ultimately meant that she had caught on to everything from earlier, although I wasn't all that surprised; she picked up on everything, from a change in the weather to sensing a change in mood. It was her weird, freaky superpower, but it had been a blessing more than anything.

"Call them," she says, "I'm sure they miss you, too. Didn't they mention that they were home for the summer? I'm sure they'd love to chill with you."

"But what about you guys? I'm sure the silly string incident wasn't the only thing y'all planned..."

"That's what the barbecue is for," she shrugged, before pushing my phone towards me. "Come on, Andi. You haven't seen them since they were in New York-- well over six months ago!"

"Okay, okay," I finally said, reaching for my phone.

My hand shook as I dialed the number I had known by heart for so long. I waited and waited for the line to start ringing, and when it did, I was grateful.

Finally, although it was nearly 12:30 at night, I got a cheery answer. "Violet? Hey, it's me. I was just calling since I'm in town..."