Carnivals of Madness--Alter Bridge in WI and IA -- Part II

Sarah planted in our #1 spot at Waterloo

Get to a festival early enough and you meet some very interesting people. It started with young Mikey, who was struggling to get a printer working in his little ticket booth, and ended with the owner I had talked to via email a day or two before. Sarah and I both stared longingly at the yellow lanyards and laminated all-access passes the staff wore, but managed to tear our eyes away long enough to make eye contact with the owner and shake his hand with determination. He said he guessed we weren’t kidding about being devoted, being there well ahead of anyone else. Nope, we weren’t kidding.


Just one of the many interesting people we saw working the show

Turn the clocks forward 3 sun-filled hours to noon, and there was a nice, long line behind us and, at the very last minute, a few red-shirted security guards who would decide if my gifts for the guys would make it into the show. We smiled, and smiled some more, and convinced them that they might as well search our bags while we were all just standing around. We’d both been in too many security lines where a delay at the beginning meant a real struggle for a center rail spot. We intended to cover all our bases that day.

By 12:15, we were planted center rail, next to a young kid named David, who was there with his friends to see Theory of a Deadman, who would take the stage later that night right after Alter Bridge, who went on around 8:30 p.m. We made friends and assured them that those not on the rail could have our spots when we left after AB. They couldn’t believe we would leave for TOAD. We couldn’t believe they would stay—but certainly didn’t argue the point. We weren’t looking for competition while trying to find a way backstage.



I must be honest: those first several hours dragged. The sun was directly overhead and on full blast, and though I had my fedora (still warped from the downpour at Twin Lakes two weeks prior), Sarah had lent her visor to a ticket lady we were trying to befriend, thinking that the size of the stage was going to keep us shaded. It did look that way from where we were positioned, but sadly, that was not the case.

As with Twin Lakes, and most of the other festivals, there were more bands playing than were advertised by the Carnival of Madness (which included Emphatic, Adelita’s Way, Black Stone Cherry, Alter Bridge, and Theory of a Deadman.) The other bands, mostly local, were playing on stage two, the Jagermeister stage, set up on an angle adjacent to the main stage, from which several die-hard fans of varying bands refused to budge, ourselves included.

As the other bands played and the teenagers danced, we watched the AB crew continue to set up for their performance hours later. When one of Myles’ guitar techs, Brian, a.k.a. Wookie, brought an electric blues guitar out to test it, we got pretty excited. That was the kind of guitar Myles used to play juicy nuggets like Robert Johnson’s Travelling Riverside Blues. We yelled our hellos at Wookie, and I even tried to get him to take my bag of presents to the guys, but he shook his head and indicated he wasn’t going to be leaving the stage area. Hey, we tried.


Wookie testing our a guitar at Rockstock IV

Ernie, grey-haired, ponytailed guitar tech for Mark Tremonti, also took some stage time to test some guitars and fill a microphone stand with picks for Mark. During a quiet moment I yelled out, “Great job, Ernie!” and was rewarded with a laugh, head shake, and a pick toss. It landed short (they all did that day, due to unfavorable prevailing winds) but a security dude retrieved it for me. Into my pocket it went.

As the day wore on, I kept checking Twitter. I noticed my friends had started tweeting the band to remind them we were here and had gifts for them. Our friend Andree from New Brunswick was clever enough to tell Brian Marshall that I had 52 naked tattooed women with me and they were all his if he went out to the rail. Though he did not come down, I am quite certain she piqued his interest.

Sometime mid-afternoon, Sarah started elbowing me, shooting a look at the far end of the rail. It was Mark. He had come out to meet some fans. I looked back at her and she just said, “Go!” I assured my neighbor David that I would be right back and I weaved my way through the growing crowd to get clear, then ran to the side where Mark was signing a few items and shaking hands. The fans seemed understandably star-struck and were giving him an unusually wide berth. I was past that and just saw my goal being realized, so I walked right up to him. Before I could say anything more than “Hi!” he had opened his arms and given me a hug. Now THIS was how a concert was supposed to work. I quickly handed him the bag of goodies and made him promise to tell Myles how much we wanted to see him as well. He was sweet as peach pie, as usual, and I knew I could count on him. Hard to imagine a nicer guy than Mark Tremonti.

To be continued...