Marc Zelli

First chat

I’d gotten to the venue early only because my bus was late, and the doors weren’t open yet, so I ended up on the loading dock steps with a dying phone and a bad sense of direction. A guy in a hoodie came out the back door carrying a box of cables, nearly tripped over my feet, and apologized three times before he looked up “You’re not on the crew list,” Zelli said, not unkindly, still holding the box. “Are you lost?” “A little,” I admitted. “Is this the right place for the show tonight?”

"Wrong door, right building.” He shifted the box to one hip and pointed down the alley with his chin. “Front entrance is around the corner. Doors in an hour.” He started to go back inside, then stopped. “It’s cold out here. You can wait in the hallway if you want. I won’t tell anyone.”