So my adventures continue with the audio team! I just realized that a lot of my most interesting experiences come from working on the production crew. Despite the early hours, hard work, and missing out on practice time, I can't imagine not being part of the team. How boring it must be. Anyways, back to my story. On March 24, we arrived in Dublin, Ireland after a slightly shaky, seventeen-hour boat ride.
This year we were performing in a practically brand-new theater that was across the river from our old one (which was also new when we performed there last year). This theater was state-of-the-art. Besides the fact that the exterior of the building looked like it could be from a science-fiction movie depicting human colonization of Mars, there was a massive elevator inside the building that brought our entire prop truck up five stories. In all my travels to theaters around the world, I've encountered many elevators that brought our props many stories above ground level, but this one took up our props and the truck wholesale! When I marveled about the elevator, a theater crewmember shrugged and said casually, “Oh, we have two of those.” Every seat in the audience had a little air conditioning fan underneath it, as well as an outlet to charge your electronics during the show. Unlike older theaters, this theater channeled all the cables underground. Whoever designed this place had everything figured out. Any time I needed a wire to go somewhere, one of the theater staff popped open a hole in the ground to my astonishment. “Clever, huh?” The theater staff asked with a laugh. “Genius.” I replied.
For the orchestra to be heard throughout the entire auditorium, all the instruments need to be equipped with little microphones, and to connect the orchestra's microphones with the theater’s speakers, we have two thick, 250-foot long wires (we call them “snakes”). These needed to be pulled through an underground tunnel below the audience, across the entire house to the audio counsel behind the seats.
During set up, a theater staff member pulled the “snake” for us. He emptied his pockets before going in, only keeping his flashlight. He then put on what looked like a cross between a space suit and bio-chemical containment unit. He was covered from head to toe, only leaving the face. At the time, I thought the suit was a bit too much. Sure, it might be a little dusty down there, but come on, a space suit?!
Don't get me wrong, I loved the suit and was itching to wear one, I just thought it was slightly unnecessary. But hey, I guess that's how things work in state-of-the-art theaters. “Alright, I'm going in,” the man said, and climbed through a trap door, disappearing into the darkness. When he came out nearly half an hour later, I raised my brows in shock. He was soaked in sweat, his suit was torn in five different places, and there was a bloody gash on his arm.
“Woah. That's intense.” Was all I could say.
“Yeah, tell me about it. I won't be here when you guys take everything down, so you're going to have to do this next time.” He said as he took off the trashed, one-time use bio-chemical-space suit.
I no longer doubted the suit's necessity, and believe me when I say I was now NOT looking forward to putting it on.
Come time for us to “strike” the stage, meaning—take everything down and pack up, I threw on my work clothes, and of course, the dreaded suit. It's just an underground tunnel, it can't be too bad, right? Shrugging off my fears, I grabbed a flashlight and signaled to the other audio team members who would wait for me outside.
“Alright, I'm going in,” I said, and stepped into the black hole. The first few feet of the way were relatively spacious. I followed the snakes with my flashlight and continued walking until the snakes traveled up a ledge, crossed by a metal ventilation system. There was but a small triangular gap between the ledge and the vents. “Am I supposed to climb through that?!” I thought to myself and frantically looked around for another way. Everything else was blocked tight; this was the only opening.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered. Holding the flashlight between my teeth, I hopped up and caught the ledge with one knee. Pushing myself up the rest of the way, I crouched and squeezed through the gap, barely making it through. There was already a rip on the knee of my suit. Glad to have gotten past that little obstacle, I stood up, and had raised only half a foot before hitting my head hard against a steel beam. I instinctively let out a short cry. Panning my flashlight upwards, I saw that the “roof” was barely three feet high.
“Are you kidding me?!” I said to myself aloud. This place was definitely not meant for people to go through! Did somebody have to do this every time they needed to hook up the sound system?! Who designed this!? THIS is supposed to be state-of-the-art?! Shaking my head, I put the flashlight back in my mouth and dropped to the dusty floor. Lying on my stomach I crawled forward inch my inch, pushing with my elbows and knees. I felt like a soldier crawling through a trench at night. Finally, after what felt like an hour, I reached another small hole. What came next was a tubular tunnel that I squeezed through with many bangs and scrapes. Just when I thought the worst was over, my flashlight followed the wires straight upwards onto a ledge that was seven feet high. There were no ladders to climb, and I was surrounded by cement and steel on all four sides. There wasn't even space to bend my knees and jump. So I began to grope around in the dark, looking for something I could grab onto and climb with. I ended up spreading open my arms and legs, and using the walls themselves to slide up. I felt like a secret agent of types penetrating an enemy compound. It actually felt kind of cool. Really cool, coming to think of it. I reached the wires after another stretch of crawling, and made my way back the same way I came, except now I had to pull along a heavy bundle of wires with me.
I emerged sweaty, scratched, and bruised. I'm proud to say, however, that this theater did NOT draw blood. VICTORY.
Kevin Yang
Violinist with the Shen Yun Performing Arts Orchestra
April 2, 2011