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If I were a Famous Guitarist
The fans were cheering, the last band had just left the stage, and we were up next. The crowd screaming, the feel of adrenaline coursing through my veins, it was a night I would never forget. As I stood atop the platform, that I was to descend from once we started to perform, I couldn’t help but reminisce about the days before this, before the crowd, before I was a famous guitarist.
I was late to class, not because I overslept, but because band practice had run late. I tried to tell the teacher, but she didn’t listen, I had already been late two times that semester, a third strike and I was out. So guess what I had to do for three hours after school? I got to sit in a classroom and do absolutely nothing. I hated that day but, only now do I realize, that was the most important day of my career as a guitarist. That day, out of pure boredom, I started to write random lyrics onto scratch pieces of paper. After the bell rang I gathered up my things and walked home indolently, thinking about the lyrics I had written. They seemed to flow right, to fit the music in my head, but a song would not form. Then, only after a night’s rest, did the words click. I awoke and quickly ran to my guitar and then began to create my masterpiece. I recorded the whole thing on my phone, all four hours of playing. I went to school the next day and played it for the band, and as I stood there, watching the look of amazement form on my fellow band member’s faces, I knew that once this song was created, things were going to change. Guess what? I was right, because it is that song that I was about to perform in front of thousands of fans.
As I snapped out of my flashback I came to realize that the drummer had already walked onto the stage. He was wearing a sleeveless leather vest and ripped jeans. He styled his fluorescent blue hair into a Mohawk that night, dying the tips a deathly black. Next entered the bassist, Pete, he was a long time friend of mine and this night he looked like a different person. He walked on stage with a white T-shirt, wearing black skinny jeans, as he usually does. But this night, there was something in his eyes, which made him seem more confident, more deadly. Maybe it was the way his jet-black hair was styled, a gelled bed-head, or the light, or something, but he was definitely a different person tonight. Then, a spotlight pointed to a teenager, no more than seventeen, standing atop a platform, he jumped fearlessly off and descended onto the stage. Because of this signature entrance he was often referred to as the “Fallen Angel”. It was a true sight to behold; all who saw it will never forget his name, Drew, the lead guitarist for the band Versecon. Drew, is my name…
After the show the band and I hit the parties and had an amazing time. That night I never forgot, it was truly an amazing night. If anybody ever asked me what it was like to be a famous guitarist I would reply with just two words. Mind Blowing. There is not much more I can say about that night, but I can tell you this, there were many more nights just like that one.
To Be Continued…
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