November 2005

I almost feel sorry for the Prince. It strikes me that he may be an introvert deep down (not really that deep down actually) – being a card-carrying introvert myself, I think I can recognize one when I see one.

In any case, the level of media attention that descends upon any place that is visited by Prince Charles on Tour is something quite remarkable. An experience I recommend just to enjoy the surreal nature of it all. Once.

Across the street from the club there was a grandstand constructed to contain the 250 or so press. Satellite trucks where everywhere. The street was secured.

By the time I arrived back from dinner on Sunday night, it was a “hard closure” (up from the “soft closure” for most of the day). I had my badge and my picture id (I was told about 465 times last week to make sure I always had a picture id with me. Duh…)

So at the first line of defense the guard has my wallet and is studying my id, and studying me, and then back to the id. He then asked what my zip code is.

Zip code? What’s that?

Fortunately, the brain fart lasted only a moment and I said the first thing that came to mind. Happily, it was, in fact, my zip code, so I was allowed to pass to the next level of security. By the third guy I had my id out and just said “I’m the sound engineer” and the guy just smiled and said, “I believe you, you’re fine – but thanks!”

I smiled sheepishly and moved on. I guess by they time, if I wasn’t who I said I was, I’d be dead.

The building had been completely secured down to the two snipers on the roof.

Can you imagine what life must be like when just coming to see Beach Blanket Babylon requires such effort? I shudder to think…

In any case, I did not personally meet him, but upon his entrance, which was prefaced by the constant pulsing blue flash from the hundreds of cameras firing from across the street, he walked within feet of me on his way to the royal table. I remember thinking that he looked like he did when I say him on “60 Minutes” last week – he looked like himself.

Apparently I think dumb thoughts in the presence of royalty.

The whole theater stood and stared at him as he moved uneasily to his seat.

That was as close as I got to him. It was out of our hands who he’d meet. After the show he went briefly backstage. Then a select group of performers went out to the lit stage and the press was allowed in. General handshaking and picture-taking ensued.

Only four technicians were allowed to meet the prince, and certainly it would not include the front-of-house crew. We had been told the night before that we were to remain in our booths until told we could leave, which actually makes sense considering we had operational control of the sound and lighting systems in the building. A little disappointing I admit, but completely understandable.

Soon it was all over.

There goes Charles getting in his limo (as I watched on the 11 O’clock news later that night - I was still sitting in my booth listening chatting on headset at the time) when he is asked how he liked the performance. “Great fun!” He says as he waves unenthusiastically to the assembled press multitude, gets in his limo, and is off.

And with it the bright white-hot gaze of the world media.

There was some residual hoopla as reporters interviewed cast members to ask what it was like to meet Charles and Camilla, but as quickly as it all came (for real anyway, and not the manic anticipation of the previous week) it was gone.