Do you know Anthony?

Drive: 4 days.
Expense: worth every penny.
Recorded and shared with permission.
Thank you, Anthony B. Much love. Much respect. 

The Park City venue was empty, but it was early. A slick, icy and steep downhill sidewalk was the only way to get there from the parking lot. I was worried about the dog... the show... the roll I was supposed to fulfill...
 
Flashback to my getting lost backstage in Arcata after an extremely exciting, and very long, strenuous day at the beginning of the tour. My teenagers insisted on coming with us. Years later, my son told me that he would have never let me go meet a Jamaican at the airport by myself. How could he be so much more aware than me?
 
The young lady asked my artist, "Who is she?" while pointing at me.
"A manager."
 
Now, confusion began to meld into delusion. What was happening? How could I go from a disrespected professional and discarded “woman” to manager all in one word? Was this normal behavior on his part? Was it me? Was it simply the way of the industry? Years of shuddering under ghetto oppression had conditioned me to do one thing to survive the situation: be quiet and smile.
​
At that point, I became pliable