Um, Not a Fucking Chance

I was working today at the Pacific Ampitheatre which is in Costa Mesa at the Orange County Fairgrounds. (That's a lot of capitalization!)

Around noon someone called us over to stage right. I didn't know why, but went over. We had done the rigging quickly the day before and we were doing the odds and ends. This venue is an outdoor space, maybe a 50 foot ceiling with a light canopy over the top of it 50% sun proof. (can you tell? I'm vamping for suspense!)

When we got stage right there was the powerful and unmistakeable stench of DEATH. We looked at where they were pointing on the ground. There was a liquid and maggots on the ground which had fallen from 50 feet up. Apparently something was decomposing in the steel. The previous day I notified the house there was a beehive in the steel down stage right, near the top. A call was made. The geniuses thought that whatever was dead in the steel was killed the previous day and was now a juicy dripping thing dropping maggots stage right.

Unfortunately, I know things don't decompose that fast, and you usually don't get maggots that fast either. It takes a week or so to get maggots. But with the heat, I could be wrong.

This next bit is a recreation of a conversation.

"Go up there and see where that's coming from." said some dude.

"No." I replied. "It's not a hook, a chain or a motor. I'm not going to climb up there and see what fucking died. Not in my job description." And those who know me know quite well, I don't do anything I don't want to.

Quite seriously, what did they expect someone to do, reach into a hole in a hot steel structure filled with something rotting for a week or two to pull it out? This ain't a fucking reality show where people do gross things for money. It's reality. Get someone who deals with this type of thing because I ain't doing it.