It’s 5:30am at Warsaw Intl. Airport. At least two more hours until I can check in and three more till my flight leaves. I was driven here overnight. I’m banished to the seating area near the ticket counter, where I’m spread out across three metal seats. They’re as comforting as concrete. Groggily, I dig into my suit case and lay out some clothes to ease the pain of my chrome mattress. Next to me is my luggage cart with guitar flight case, duffel bag, carry on suitcase and carry on guitar in gig bag.
I start to fade, and keep thinking of the movie ‘Once,’ where a thief snatches a guitar case from a street musician, and runs off with all his hard earned money in it. I maneuver myself so that my leg is touching my guitar bag, which is leaned up against the rest of the luggage. If anyone tries to steal my stuff, I’ll wake up and tackle them.
For now, snippets of sleep, look at the clock, more sleep, check the departure schedule, and the cycle continues onward into the morning.
This is the part nobody sees. I’m all alone. I’ve had no sleep. There are no fans. There are no cameras. There are only others, like myself. Weary travelers, eager to move on to the next phase of our journey.
Right now I’m nothing but a pile of flesh and clothes.