What they didn't tell me was that, in order help defray expenses, the deal included volunteering my services with the road crew. As I curse the entire Guitar World staff and their families, my thoughts are mercifully interrupted. Priorities being what they are, the beer is quickly and systematically removed from cartons and packed in personalized ice chests. Bottle openers are brandished like switch blades. The sound of beer caps hitting the pavement is followed by a symphony of unrestrained belching, the sweet sounds of which reverberate in the darkened, cavernous arena.
Breakfast is served.
Everyone except the first-shift crew is sleeping off last night's performance. Despite being added to the bill at the last minute, Pantera turned in a muscular performance worthy of a headliner, rewarding their young Mexican fans with irreversible ear damage. A group of teenagers wearing Kiss t-shirts and clutching pens have gathered just beyond the outdoor concierge station and set up an unblinking vigil. Obviously, they're not familiar with the slumber patterns of American rock stars. It will be a long wait.