Imagine building and then tearing down your house every time you move. Imagine doing that 61 times during the past nine months before arriving in Austin last week. You'd probably be exhausted, and no one could blame you for looking forward to the end of the road.

For U2's touring production crew, work and rest function like a roller coaster. They are on their feet for as long as 20 hours a day followed by a day or two of rest. They arrive early in the morning at an arena, work up until show time, relax for a few hours while the band gets the applause of thousands of people and then take apart everything they've constructed one more time as a new day begins.

Why do they do it? Some for the music and contact with superstars, some for the money, and others because setting up the band's lighting, audio and video equipment is the only specialty craft they know. It's 7:15 a.m. on Monday, Nov. 5, and the first of 16 eighteen-wheelers start trickling into the Erwin Center's loading dock. They carry what seems like an enormous amount of stage gear until you compare this tour with previous, more high-tech-oriented U2 shows when the scaffolding, flooring, ramps, lighting, video and audio equipment required more than 60 eighteen-wheelers.

For truck driver Scott Lawson, this is a routine day. He has been lugging U2's equipment across the United States and Canada since the band's Joshua Tree tour in 1987. The 44-year-old works for Upstaging Inc., a Chicago lighting and transportation company, where Lawson takes on jobs for artists such as Kiss and Eric Clapton when U2 is not on tour or is overseas. Lawson says the Irish foursome have enjoyed seeing familiar faces on the crew throughout the years, and often request that tour alums join the new outings. U2's Elevation tour crew consists of a mere 76 people, compared with the 1992 Zoo TV and 1997 PopMart staffs of more than 200.

Shortly after 7:30 a.m., the higher-ups on the production crew arrive. They head straight for the arena to see what kind of geometric environment they will be dealing with, before making a pitstop at an Erwin Center office to drop off their post-concert clothes. They notice the University of Texas arena has had a change in the permanent seating arrangement since the band last performed there in 1992. After figuring out how to compensate for lost space that went to new seating for basketball fans, they begin sketching specs and taping guides on the floor.

The crew gets its own extras -- 75 local stagehands hired by the Erwin Center. Most do grunt work, such as unloading caseloads of equipment. The majority of cases weigh half a ton to a ton each. Though every piece of equipment is on wheels, bullets of sweat stream down their faces as they push and pull the cases down a 185-foot ramp from the loading dock to the stage area.

Carol Perkins works as the liaison between the stagehands and U2's staff. The production manager radios her constantly throughout the day, requesting stagehands to work in certain areas. Perkins has to be on hand during setup and breakdown. She rarely catches a show, since the only time she has to take a breather is when the band is performing.

"I love my job because it's different every time," said Perkins, who has been hiring
stagehands at the Erwin Center for 17 years. "There's always a new setup and new people. It has never been the case of meeting the artists, because I find that meeting the people who work for the artists far more interesting."

By 10:45 a.m., the stagehands have been divvied up into various sectors such as
camera and stage setup. The lighting crew is working from the ground up to assemble the light structures, while the carpenters are beginning to piece together the stage and the catwalk, which is made up of aluminum decks and bulbs that light up its frame. The heart-shaped catwalk brings the audience and the band into a more intimate setting. During the show, lead singer Bono frequently makes his way to the tip of the heart, which extends more than halfway into the audience. The typical rectangular stage sits inside the heart along with the first 300 general admission ticket-holders, who have waited in line for hours
before the show specifically for a chance at getting into heart-dom.

"I thought Widespread Panic had a lot of equipment, but U2 has so much more," said Tim Macarenas, a 44-year-old stagehand. "Before I started doing this, I always wondered who the people were that did this stuff, and now I'm doing it."

It's 12:10 p.m. The crew is testing the lighting gear, which is now above ground. Stagehands roll in 13 sections of the video wall. In its final arrangement, the 12-foot-tall wall will span the stage behind the band. An image of Martin Luther King Jr. and a scrolling list of names of those who died in the Sept. 11 attacks are shown on the wall during certain songs. First-time stagehand Katy Wentrcek is working because she needs the money for college, and because she's a U2 fan. "This is like moving a giant couch up a narrow flight of stairs, without any guys helping," Wentrcek said of her struggles with the heavy equipment.

By 2:45 p.m., lighting and sound are a go, and the heart-shaped catwalk is complete.

After several hours, exhaustion hits even the runners, who slouch in chairs whenever they get the opportunity. Their job is to run around town in search of such things as guitar strings and office supplies, or to make a trip to the laundromat.

"We normally get here at 8 a.m., but it could be 2 a.m. tomorrow that we get out," said Niki Brown, a 23-year-old who works as a runner through the concert promoter Clear Channel Communications. "We're here to make the day run a little smoother, and the best part of the day is when you go out when they're performing and you see the crowd react. It feels good to know that I contributed."

Some of U2's equipment has taken a beating from years on the road. Cameramen occasionally have problems with the cameras used to zoom in on the band because they are meant for broadcasting and do not hold up well to repeated assembly and dismantling.

Lawson says the only serious technological trouble he remembers was during the PopMart tour when U2 was playing stadiums.

"There was a torrential rainstorm in Washington and the big video screen shorted out," he said. "They laid it out to dry, but we kept getting rain at several venues. They had a lot of problems keeping it water-tight -- I think it consisted of like 4 million light bulbs."

Technicians, engineers and U2's guitarist, The Edge, begin doing a sound check, which lasts until about 6 p.m., when the first group of general-admission fans is admitted into the heart.

Because being on the road as a truck driver often puts a strain on Lawson's family life, he took his wife and two children with him this summer for the nine-week Dave Matthews Band tour.

"I miss my family a lot, but I really can't think of anything else I can do and be happy with," said Lawson, on his way for a shower and a few hours of sleep.

Lawson, originally from Hempstead, lives in Oklahoma because its central location makes it easier for him to stop at home between venues. Lawson hopped into his truck at 12:15 a.m. last Tuesday and headed to Seminole, Okla., for a quick family visit and to pick up some warmer clothes, and then onto Denver for Wednesday's U2 show. The crew starts disassembling immediately after the band leaves the stage at 10:30 p.m. They're assisted by an additional 25 to 30 local stagehands hired for night duties. The stagehands' faces are flushed red and
they are huffing and puffing as they hustle to push the cases toward the trucks.

The deconstruction of the set appears to be organized chaos, with the crew breaking down the equipment and loading it in about two hours. By 1:15 a.m. Tuesday, feet are sore and bodies are aching. The exhausted stagehands go home and slide into their beds, while U2's crew sluggishly head to their trucks and buses to do it all over again 14 more times before the tour's scheduled end Dec. 2.