how high will you climb?

this was my tour.

tour 5 2006. 

we laughed, cried, rapped, sang, danced, and just plain existed together.

i came across some pictures on a facebook profile and decided to take a stroll down memory lane...

this was an essay i wrote early in the semester for an english class it was supposed to be about stress but it evolved into this....

“Come back to me” said my dad with his arms wrapped around me giving me one last hug I heard my self say “I will”. I gave a hollow smile and then, suitcase in hand, started my journey. I felt like I was floating. Like the feet that were taking me through the security check, and the body that eventually boarded the plane was not my own. My heart sank more and more as the plane took off. I was leaving my family and all familiarity for 6 weeks, and I was not ready to say goodbye.

 I arrived at the airport and was welcomed by a group of twenty-something’s wearing all solid colors, and several soon to be tour members who looked just like me; suit case ready and , pillow in hand, and wearing a look that only someone who just said a “goodbye” would wear. After an hour long bus ride we arrived at rehearsal camp. I had heard rumors of  this so called “rehearsal camp”, learning about 8 songs worth of dancing and singing all in about 6 days proved them all to be true. That night I met my tour as we introduced and played  “get to know each other” games. At a time when I needed to be in the “here and now”, I was still a thousand  miles away.

A few days in to Rehearsal Camp was when the pressure finally settled in. For days I had been rolling with the punches doing what I was told and telling myself that I was fine. And I was “fine” until the day of auditions. We were to audition with which ever song from the program that we chose and so naturally I chose one of the only ones that I knew well. When my name was called I went up and sang my song. Although this was stressful, auditioning was not the stressful part. However, learning that I had gotten one of the lead rolls, was. I had approximately 4 days to learn a bunch of lines, and two solos on top of everything else I had to learn and retain. But as the week progressed everything seemed to fall into place. The thousand mile gap shrunk to about fifty as I made friends and got to know the leaders and director. With rehearsal camp behind us we were eager to start performing on the road

 Weeks had gone by and I had already formed a few rock solid friend ships and a crush on one of my leaders. Performing every night was everything I thought it would be and more. It was exhilarating, exhausting and repetitive. We got done packing up the stage at about 11 and were off early next morning. One night in particular I was rooming  a close friend Nina. We ended up sleeping outside on the trampoline. The sticky, Utah night was followed by a damp and frigid morning. Needless to say, I got strep throat which by the next night, was in full effect. I was thoroughly devastated. Being on the road was hard enough when you were in perfect health, how was I supposed to fulfill my day to day duties of singing and dancing if I could barely walk and talk? I felt so weak . I felt as if  I had let my director down by getting so inconveniently sick. The next morning I approached him with tears streaming down my face and an apology on my tongue as I prepared to tell him. “Why are you crying” he asked, not very sympathetically, as if I were taking his precious time while he was trying to defuse a bomb. I informed him of my sickness and waited for the chastisement but all that came was “what ever you will just do your solo part and skit and then sit backstage it’s not a big deal”. Relieved and still weak I did the show, and through out the next couple of weeks I got progressively better.

The journey home was probably the hardest part of the whole experience. We had grown from strangers to friends and then, to family. There was a bond like none that I had ever felt with any other group of people before. They were my support group and my loved ones and I was convinced that I could not bear separate from them. We all chattered away about visiting each other for Christmas and New Years and calling each other all the time. This being my second time touring I saw this experience with different eyes. I knew that I would probably never see these people again. We were all from different states and different lives which we all had to return toeventually. As we sat in a circle one last time before we got on the bus to go to the air port I looked at the face of every single one of them. And person by person my heart broke more and more.

 Sitting at the air port, I waited for my plane to arrive. I saw the others go before me, each taking a piece of me with them, and I was one of the last to go. Robotically, I walked to my gate accompanied by 2 of my leaders. With each step I took, my heart seemed to dissolve bit by bit. I was leaving my life with these people knowing full well that I would never see them again. This was far more difficult than leaving my parents. My parents will be there when I get home. These wonderful friends, these soul mates of mine however, would not be. We hugged and said our goodbyes, and giving a hollow smile I turned, and suitcase in hand I started my journey home. I was leaving my family and all familiarity, and although I was not ready to say goodbye, I was ready to go home.