There are times when this job has its perks. I'm back stage at the Lyric Theatre on Broadway with the dance troupe of Lord of the Dance. I've captured the maestro himself, Michael Flatley, giving a masterclass and fine tuning the routines on stage with his dancers. The work ethic of the talent around me is off the chart. They keep on practicing until the whole troupe are in sync with one another. At times are tapping their feet several times a second and it just has to be perfect. The words of wisdom and encouragement coming from the enigmatic Irishman gives his dancers self belief and pride. I look around and realise that I have t-shirts older than these young dancers... no I really do.
When Michael Flatley finally leaves the rehearsal some dancers remain behind to work on the dance steps even more. There is a hive of activity in the dressing rooms, with hair and make up fully on the go and massages in the treatment room. The protein shakes are flowing and I realise that the people buzzing around me are in fact athletes who just happen to ply their trade to music. The show begins and I dodge the sweaty torsos in the changing room, which in New York, is one big expanse right behind the stage. A 70foot long clothes rail holds the costumes for the entire cast. There is a controlled chaos, everyone knows where they have to be and what to wear. Wardrobe is at hand to help with those garments where four hands are better than two. I get whisked away to capture Michael as he prepares for the encore. His legs still move at an electric speed as he limbers up in his dressing room. The audience erupts as the icon takes the stage and delivers a finale that will be the topic of conversation for all his fans as they make their way home.