this is a great essay written by a friend for a creative writing class....

May 15, 2001

The Tapers

Anxiously approaching the theatre, the crowd chatters excitedly. Most have come for an evening of good music and carefree fun, and for them, tonight’s show will only be a fond memory.  Though the masses are thick, it is nearly impossible to miss the nervous and motivated individuals scattered throughout the bunch, carrying cases of carefully personalized and intricately packed equipment.  They have come to preserve, not only out of a deep passion for music, but as a gift to others.

            As they come upon their designated area, each one begins a uniquely distinct routine.  Equipment is unpacked systematically and despite the immense concentration each puts into his own rig, the curious glances are innumerable.  After each has found his space, familiar handshakes and conversations begin to extinguish the tense, yet exciting moments before the show.  This group may not be well acquainted, but they seem to find great comfort in their common love.  As veterans show off the latest additions to their set-up, the rookies listen closely, waiting for the right moment to smoothly jump into the conversation.  Despite the crowding, there is no level of competition or resentment.  Each appears completely willing to help another out, regardless of the extra time they may be spending. 

            The age range is broad, but the members of this crew have traveled far.  Careful attention to the details of every aspect proves tremendous experience.  From the neatly taped cords to the high-tech collection of pocket flashlights, they have displayed their gear almost as works of art.  And on their backs, they wear their resumes:  each shirt proudly displaying different cities, dates, and names. 

            As the band begins, their decks begin to roll, documenting a sort of cultural history.  Broad smiles and friendly nods are exchanged with every tune.  Several of them print sloppily on wrinkled paper scraps, documenting their piece as it unfolds.  Time is frequently checked and each glances back in order to assure himself that everything is working properly.             

            When the music stops, their work begins.  Though they rush to pack as the crowd is being coaxed out of the auditorium, this is but a minor part of the task ahead.  As each bids the others goodnight, the anticipation builds within.  Their masterpieces lie warm in their packs screaming to be heard upon the arrival home.

            Though they may not create the music, their devotion has certainly helped to make it everything it is.  They are promoters, fans, and historians.  An outsider may not understand, I’m really not sure I do, but they understand each other and love what they do.  They are the tapers.

R A W