One of my other editors asked me to go to SXSW in Austin, Tx. and do the usual, figuring a none drinker would be cheaper to hire for tickets plus expenses. Hit as many gigs and parties as I could in the 40 hours they were willing to pay for me being there, and write about them as fast and as little like a press release as possible, with quotes and personal interviews thrown in. To dangle a carrot under my very reluctant nose, knowing my immense hatred of flying, they promised me an interview with Simon Pegg, the one guy I would happily go gay for.
Since I had a bunch of friends going for a different reason, with the promise of an awesome party with people I like, respect and admire - well, I said yes and grabbed the miserly expense account fast before they gave it to someone else.

Friday

The flight down on Friday was as all frights flights are: a white knuckle ride of mistrust, fear and the cruel and unusual punishment of nicotine deprivation for several hours, compounded by something the flight attendant said was food, but my tastebuds insisted was a boiled cardboard box that had formerly been home to a whole bunch of hobos with very questionable hygiene.
Arriving in the evening, my native guide - a very good friend who is so Texan he makes John Wayne look French - picked me up and, with several detours to check the GPS and say "Where the f*ck are we?", managed to land us at our motel. Check in, wash up, head out. Back to base several hours later with a splitting headache and a sore ear where a thrown glass, the first fight of the night at the place where we decided to eat, had connected before shattering on the patio. Some woman screaming at her man "Hell, I didn't sleep with him, we just had sex!" before storming off.

Saturday

Oh, I can drive. Have a valid license and everything. The one thing I do not have is a credit card, which means I rely on friends or cabs to get me around in a strange city. Rental companies take one look at me and refuse to rent for cash.
My friend drops me on 6th, Austin's party street, at 10 AM with a promise to meet me later at an agreed spot (well, a bar, but what do you expect!). I start beating the streets and doing my thing, interviewing anyone showing any signs of life whatsoever. Being the first day of the fest, I have masses of enthusiastic, talented musicians, artists and film makers out and about when they should be asleep. Excited, happy to be there, ecstactic at interest from someone who can give them some publicity. Not going to lie, it was fun for me to see so much enthusiasm and passion in such a small space.

Sunday

A few more interviews, a quick walk and talk around downtown, then back to the airport to head home. Now, I know what you hear about TSA agents - I am here to tell you it is a lie. They were amazing - cracking jokes, being friendly and open. Just folk doing their jobs and trying to make security checks as human and unhumiliating as possible. The lady behind me in the queue had bad excema and was carrying a way over sized bottle of medication. The agent put her at ease, while testing it, and sent her on her way happy.
The fright flight home was the usual ordeal.

Everyone I interviewed who was there for the shows was amazing. Talented, with the sort of drive to succeed that makes you both admire them and feel jealous as hell for their passion. Then, there are the others. You know, the people who actually have to pick up the crap that is dropped by the visitors and acts. The interesting ones who have little time to talk, normally.

• Like the State Trooper drafted in from his usual beat around Dallas to help clear up the blood and bodies caused by the 2 AM rush hour where everyone is drunk and driving to their hotels.
• The liquor store owner who has to hire both a bouncer and an ex cop for this one week per year to card people and deal with obstreperous drunks who want a bottle after hours.
• The restaurant crews who never get a break, pretty much running from table to table to make sure things flow as smoothly as possible under insane demands.
  
• The sanitation crew, run by Luis, who are pulling 18 hour days to attempt to keep the place clean. They are happy enough with the overtime, but a months worth of trash in 5 days takes its toll.
• The EMT crew who are constantly rushing from one injury to the next all night every night. All leave is cancelled for SXSW, which really annoyed the EMT I talked to as her wedding was planned for Saturday. She got married, then went straight to work.
• The totally awesome security at Luster Pearl (where I went to party on down with friends), who somehow manage to stay good humored in the face of a drunken, excited crowd trying to get in and exceed the fire regulations for capacity.

You know. The day to day stuff that never gets reported or talked about. The folk you simply expect to be there, doing their thing so you can have a good time.

Sort of like your partner. Your family and friends.

You expect them to be there to handle the crap that life throws at us all. To work behind the scenes to make your life a little easier. A little less stressful and a little more joyful. Well, they do it.

Maybe it might be time to say thank you to them for doing a thankless task.

PS - the Simon Pegg interview got cancelled. Such is life ...