keep it professional - r. taylor

6

~March 1975~

Constantly driving and living primarily on a bus was doing a number on my body. I thought I was good to go when the tour originally started. But as we spent more and more time on the road, and less time relaxing in our beds, I would find myself getting sick practically every week. Thank god for pharmaceutical medicines, because if I didn't have access to them, I would probably be stuck in a hospital right now.

But the tour itself was going exceptionally well. Every night seemed to have a bigger audience than the last. Walking towards the back entrance, I had been swarmed a few times by rabid fans, asking for any last minute tickets that could be available. I hadn't realized the true extent of Queen's impact in the Americas until we were out to dinner one night, and a large group of girls celebrating their bachelorette party hurried over to our table. They all were huge fans of the band, and asked each member for their autograph. I think it was Roger's dream.

Most of the time during the shows, I was perched on the sides, surveying everything. More often than not, I was singing along to the songs and dancing around. But by dancing around, I mean tapping my foot, hitting my thumb against my leg, or slightly swaying. I couldn't be too distracted considering that I was technically still on the clock.

The living situation was under control. Most nights after a show, we would be placed in a hotel room. And since I was one of the only girls on the tour, I would get a room to myself from time to time. It wasn't much different from sharing a room considering that once we got to the hotel room, I would fall onto my bed and immediately fall asleep. Then we had to wake up early the next morning and start the whole process over again. If we were still driving on the road, we had to find a place on the bus to sleep. On those nights, it wasn't uncommon to meet a new girl that Roger was bringing with us to stay for the night.

Even though it seemed like I had a lot more complaints than compliments for the tour, I was still having a good time. On days where we didn't have a show, I took my time to explore whatever city we had landed in.

But, all good things have to end. And just like that, we had arrived in Atlanta, our last stop for the tour. I was sad to leave the United States, but I was excited to get home and see Kathleen. I was especially excited to get home and sleep in my own bed.

Backstage, the boys were all trying to shake out their last minute nerves. John was keeping to himself, Brian was strumming an imaginary guitar, Roger was complaining about god knows what, and Freddie was changing into his last extravagant outfit. This time, he was sporting a tight, black and white jumpsuit that had the lowest v-neck I had ever seen. "Elizabeth?!" I turned and saw the head of makeup and hair, Harmony, brushing out Freddie's hair. "Can you help me out?"

"Of course! What do you need help with?"

"Can you do Roger's eyeliner? Freddie's been holding me up. Apparently, I'm not doing his hair how he likes it, even though that's how I've been doing it for the past few weeks."

"Something about it's different. And I refuse to go on with this mess on my head," Freddie said, trying to defend himself.

"Anyways, could you help me out?"

"Sure! Roger! Get over here!" Roger sauntered over towards me, wearing his fringed white leather vest. I think that was one of my favorite outfits on him.

"You know, you could be a little nicer about it?"

"Do you want me to accidentally stab you in the eye?" Roger sat down in the chair in front of me while I tried to figure out a comfortable position for me to do this in. I had become a professional at doing this on myself, but trying to put it on someone else was a whole other story.