Aside from that, I couldn't think of anything to write. Not much has happened since I returned from my all to short vacation back home. So I thought I'd regale you all with some old road stories. Three, in fact. All revolving around the same theme, Dan climbing in the rig to fix lights and getting stuck.
The first story features me in 1996, on tour with Santana. This was a small tour, before his revival. There was only two of us on the lighting crew and not many lights. But they still broke occasionally, and seeing as I was the "lighting tech" I would have to climb into the rig and fix the lights. San Diego was one such day. We had a light out on the front truss and I harnessed up to go fix it. Now remember, this was 1996, my second year of touring, and long before OSHA got heavily involved in climbing safety. This was my first time having to climb and then hang by my harness under the truss to fix the lights. I got to the light, I secured my safety line to the truss and lowered myself under the truss and proceeded to fix the light. I replaced a couple of parts, lowered in the broken bits on my rope and then attempted to climb back onto the truss. ATTEMPTED is the operative word in the last sentence. You see, I've always been a little weak in upper body strength. Not to mention I've always been a little over weight. I was hanging low enough below the truss that I couldn't swing my leg up and catch my ankle and then pull myself up. So I was dangling there swinging like a monkey on a vine trying to catch the tree above me. The other lighting guy stood on stage watching me, and instead of helping, he called the rest of the crew over and the all stood on stage and laughed at me. Finally, after struggling for about 15 minutes, the other lighting guy brought the truss to the ground so I could get off. Everyone applauded when I hit the deck and unhooked my harness. "Next time, take an eterier with you," said the other lighting guy. Needless to say, the next time I was at REI, I bought and eterier.
In case you are wondering what and eterier is... It's basically a soft webbing ladder. Rock climbers and spelunkers use them as foot holds when they are climbing. As a tech, it's like putting a 6 step ladder off the bottom of the truss. Now you can step down to the light and climb back up. Someone should have told me that beforehand.
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Later that same year (1996) I was on tour with the Further Fest. Basically, the Grateful Dead still trying to make money without Jerry Garcia. That tour had a lot of twirling hippies and patchoulli stink.
But I digress... Seeing as it was a festival, we had bands starting to play at noon, so we'd load the show in first thing in the morning, and between acts we'd fix and test the lights. The lighting designer had a creative bug in her bonnet and decided that it would be cool to hang the truss at 45 degree angles instead of the standard flat. For us techs who had to climb, this was sort of a mixed blessing. An angled truss made it easier to climb, because it was like going up a ladder, and the lights were hung in such a way that you could just poke your head through the truss to work on them and never have to hang by your harness. The downfall was, if you ever had to swap a light out, you'd have a heck of a time maneuvering the rope and pulley to a point where you could lower and raise the lights.
After the opening act finished, and before the next one came on, I had to climb up and fix one of the lights. By this time, OSHA had become partly involved and there were now life lines attached to all the trusses, so you had to wear your harness and clip your safety line to the lifeline. I pulled on my harness and climbed up. I walked halfway up the truss and shimmied my body through the angled truss and began working on the light. I had finished the repair, lowered in the broken part and then proceeded to back my way out of the truss. And that's when I got stuck. I was pushing up with my arms but I couldn't move, my waist was wedged between two bars on the truss. I started flailing and wriggling trying to free myself but to no avail.
By this time, the truss itself began to swing. which caused members of the audience to start looking up at me and pointing. Which also caused the crew to start gathering on side stage to watch my solo circus act in the sky. I was struggling for a while, I couldn't figure out what was caught. The next thing I know the moving lights are panning and tilting into a cue, and I look down and the next act, Sherri Jackson, is out on stage and starting her first song. I started to struggle harder pushing and twisting trying to free my waist. At one point, Sherri Jackson must have wondered what the audience was looking at, and mid song, turned around and looked at the pudgy guy wiggling back and forth, legs kicking wildly in the open air.
I finally lowered myself back into the truss and noticed that when I push out, my harness was getting caught on the bar. So I sucked my stomach in, pushed with one arm and used the other to push my harness into my belly and I freed myself. Everyone applauded when I hit the deck and unhooked my harness.
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My final story involves me again, being stuck under the truss. This time however I wasn't fixing a light, but rather trying to return to earth.
The year is 1997. I'm on tour with Luther Vandross and OSHA has become very involved in climbing safety and now requires that all trusses have life lines along them as well as all ladders have fall arrestors. OSHA also makes it a requirement to wear a full body harness as opposed to the standard climbing "sit" harness I've been wearing.
The lighting rig was designed by a very artsy fellow who didn't have a single straight line drawn. If you were sitting in the audience, the front truss looked like an "S" lying on it's side. Because of this shape, the ladder that was attached to it would hang too far out in the audience. So everyday, before the audience came in, one of the crew would have to climb up into the truss, lower in the ladder and then hook themselves into one of the hanging points (motors) and rappel in.
It was my turn, so when I got up into the truss and off the ladder. I hooked my 6 foot safety line onto the life line attached to the truss, then unhooked and lowered the ladder. I then climbed to the top of the sidewards "S" of truss and hooked into the hanging point and lowered in my rappelling rope. I carefully wrapped the double rope around my figure 8 rappelling device and slowly lowered myself off the truss and into a seated rappel position. I began my slow decent back to earth, when 6 feet later, I felt a tug on the back of my harness. I had stopped moving. I looked up and shook my head. I had forgotten to unhook my safety line from the life line, and now I was stuck, 6 feet below the truss, both hands holding onto the rope.
The crew began to gather on stage and laugh at me. Thankfully, I was rappelling from the top of the sidewards "S" so there was truss to my left and right. So I started to kick my legs back and forth and started to swing. Eventually I was in a big enough swing that I was able to grab a hold of the truss and pull myself back onto it. I climbed back up to the hanging point and prepared to rappel again. This time I remembered to unhook my safety line from the life line and this time was able to rappel safely back to the deck. Everyone applauded when I hit the deck and unhooked my harness.
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It's a good thing I don't climb trusses anymore.
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