John Witherspoon was onstage and I was watching from the back of the room, first show Friday. He was winding down his act and yelled, “Chris! Chris! How am I doing?” I froze. I think he’s talking to me… “Chris! How am I doing on time?” I jumped up and began thinking – I’m the feature, I’m not supposed to light the headliner… “Chris?” I ran up to the edge and yelled, “You’re good! I’m here!” From behind me, the sound guy, whose name was also Chris said, “He’s talking to me.”
I felt like quite the asshole. Shame draped over me like a wet blanket. I put my head down and went back to my spot. I vowed at that moment never to offer help to another person ever. If someone bursts into flames onstage and calls my entire Christian name, I will stare at them and flick cigarettes. It couldn’t have been more of a boob unless I took off my clothes and Superfly Snuka-ed the front row.
the mature side of me says good for you, discretion is the better part of valor; the flip side wants to ask sound-man “Chris,”what are you deaf? Or just plain dumb?, you heard the man ask the question 3 times, maybe you should buy a hearing aid and a digital watch, they are easier to read than the analog watches ith the big hand and the little hand.