The next afternoon the bus pulled into the parking lot of the arena. I stepped off carrying my Yamaki and followed everyone else inside.
The building seemed enormous.
Everything about it felt bigger than anything I'd ever experienced.
Bigger hallways.
Bigger stage.
Bigger sound system.
While everyone else unloaded equipment, I wandered over to the side of the stage.
The curtain was still closed.
I eased it back just enough to peek through.
Rows...
and rows...
and rows of seats.
I just stood there staring.
For the first time...
it really hit me.
Tonight….
those seats wouldn't be empty.
One of the guys walked up behind me.
"Whatcha doing?"
I pointed toward the auditorium.
"Just looking."
He smiled.
"Nervous?"
I looked back out across all those empty seats.
Then I grinned.
"That's a whole lot of people."
He laughed.
"Yeah..."
"It is."
Then he gave me a little slap on the shoulder.
"You'll be fine."
I smiled.
"I sure hope you're right."
Turns out...
he was.

Once the lights went down...
everything changed.
The applause faded into the background.
The audience disappeared.
It was just me...
and my guitar.
Funny how music does that.
A room full of strangers suddenly feels like your own living room. You stop thinking about the crowd.
You stop thinking about yourself.
All that's left...
is the next lyric.
The next chord.
The next story.
Then...
almost as quickly as it began...
I played the last chord.
For just a heartbeat...
everything was quiet.

Then the audience stood...
and applauded.
I smiled...
walked off stage...
and leaned against the wall backstage for a second.
I thought...
Did that really just happen?

I walked offstage smiling.
One of the guys gave me a high five.
Another one just nodded.
No big speeches.
No dramatic congratulations.
Just musicians acknowledging another musician.
Then something happened I wasn't expecting.
People waited for me after the show.
For me.
A few wanted an autograph.
Some wanted to ask about a song. Others simply wanted to shake my hand.
Honestly...
most of them were girls.
I won't pretend fifteen-year-old Bill didn't notice.
He noticed.
Every fifteen-year-old boy would have.
Until then...
girls were somebody you hoped might notice you.
Now...
they were walking over to introduce themselves.
Some wanted an autograph.
Some wanted a picture.
Some just wanted to stand there and talk for a few minutes.
I thought...
This is pretty cool.
And it was.

I don't think it was the attention that changed me. It was how quickly I got used to it. That's a dangerous thing for a fifteen-year-old boy.
Truthfully...
it's probably dangerous for anybody.

One of the guys watched the whole thing from across the room. When I finally walked over, he grinned.
"Getting used to it?"
I laughed.
"No."
He smiled.
"Don't."
At fifteen...
I thought he meant...
Don't get used to girls asking for your autograph.
It took me a long time to understand...
he was talking about something much bigger than that.

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