Spring

Steen.
The Super Bowl, the Grand Final of the American Football season, was played in Tampa this year. Bruce Springsteen, who, in real life, isn’t very springy at all, was the half-time entertainment. And how do I know he needs some boing in his shocks, you ask….

Well, wonder of wonders, our limo service somehow ended up with the contract to transport Bruce, Bruce’s family, most of the band, the band’s families, the management and all their hangers-on around for the week prior to the game. For whatever reason, the whole smash was accommodated not in Tampa, but in our sleepy hollow an hour south. We do have one really swish hotel, so that probably did the trick.

So, by going to and from three rehearsal sessions, the media interviews, making various morning McDonald’s runs, fulfilling odd personal grooming requests and, oh, the game day, we merry limo drivers saw the insides of big time rock’n’roll.

As you might suspect, there was nothing glamorous about the job at all. It was just hard work. My take is that the entertainment business is just like McDonalds; it might be tasty to eat, but you don’t want to know how it’s made.

And no, I don’t want fries with that.

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