he approached me, screaming: “Did I not tell you to stand in the middle of the stage?!”
He was right. He had said so because of the lighting, and I had completely forgotten to follow his instructions. I was going from one side of the stage to the other, when they wanted me to stay planted in one spot where they could shine the lights on me steadily. The poor guys in the lighting crew were probably losing their minds trying to follow me with the spotlights.
The mistake was such a big deal that from that moment on, never again did I move when I wasn’t supposed to move. I would learn that lesson, as I would many more in the years to come. That was the discipline of Menudo: You either did things the way you were told or you were not part of the group. It was that simple.
THE GOOD LIFE
AFTER WORKING SO hard to get into the band, I was not going to do—or fail to do—anything that would cost me my place in the group. Menudo was more than a new world to me; it was another galaxy. When we traveled, we took a private jet—we’re talking about a jumbo 737! In the cities where we performed, we would not just stay in a simple hotel suite, or even on a whole floor; the entire hotel would be reserved just for us! Sometimes there would be a whole floor just to entertain us, replete with pinball machines and video games. We lived in our very own Disney World, any child’s wildest dream. It was so much fun! Every day was a new adventure, and I loved every second of it. We worked very hard, but when it was time to relax, we were treated like kings.
The other thing I always loved about Menudo was that it was like one big family. The free time we had was spent playing around and talking—and sometimes fighting—like five brothers. Since I was the youngest and the smallest in size, some of the other guys would play the role of the older brothers. When we were among the masses, when the fans would trample us with excitement, they always looked after me in the midst of the madness. And that made me feel special.
We traveled all over the world. We had concerts in Japan, the Philippines, Europe, South America, and for the first time in the history of the group, we did a tour through the United States, which included twenty-four shows at Radio City Music Hall in New York. It was crazy and impressive to see thousands and thousands of people stopping traffic on Sixth Avenue in front of Radio City and around the entire block! When we looked down from our dressing room, it was like a sea of people. Hundreds of police officers had to form a human barrier on Sixty-third Street and the corner of Lexington Avenue, where our hotel was.
Our fans were passionate, and they would stop at nothing. I remember another time we were in Argentina and there was a throng of at least five thousand girls outside the hotel. They had pins, photographs, flags, and all the Menudo paraphernalia. The girls would scream and yell out each time we would appear at the windows. All you had to do was put an arm out the window to drive them crazy. They would sing our songs along with cheers, like you would hear at soccer stadiums, but adapting them to the group. Later, some guys showed up—I guess they were upset because of all the attention Menudo was getting from the girls—and they started to sing their own cheers, but insulting us and calling us names. Suddenly one of the boys went to where the girls were and tried to take down the Puerto Rican flag. . . . Well, the girls fought back hard! They beat him up so badly that I think he barely made it out alive.
Things like that happened to us all the time. It was truly crazy.
What a change! Before I became a part of the group, my life was completely different. From a simple life in Puerto Rico, where I lived surrounded by family and friends, and hardly ever wandered beyond the few square blocks of my neighborhood, I leaped into a world of fame, luxury, and worship. I went from being the beloved son of my parents
He was right. He had said so because of the lighting, and I had completely forgotten to follow his instructions. I was going from one side of the stage to the other, when they wanted me to stay planted in one spot where they could shine the lights on me steadily. The poor guys in the lighting crew were probably losing their minds trying to follow me with the spotlights.
The mistake was such a big deal that from that moment on, never again did I move when I wasn’t supposed to move. I would learn that lesson, as I would many more in the years to come. That was the discipline of Menudo: You either did things the way you were told or you were not part of the group. It was that simple.
THE GOOD LIFE
AFTER WORKING SO hard to get into the band, I was not going to do—or fail to do—anything that would cost me my place in the group. Menudo was more than a new world to me; it was another galaxy. When we traveled, we took a private jet—we’re talking about a jumbo 737! In the cities where we performed, we would not just stay in a simple hotel suite, or even on a whole floor; the entire hotel would be reserved just for us! Sometimes there would be a whole floor just to entertain us, replete with pinball machines and video games. We lived in our very own Disney World, any child’s wildest dream. It was so much fun! Every day was a new adventure, and I loved every second of it. We worked very hard, but when it was time to relax, we were treated like kings.
The other thing I always loved about Menudo was that it was like one big family. The free time we had was spent playing around and talking—and sometimes fighting—like five brothers. Since I was the youngest and the smallest in size, some of the other guys would play the role of the older brothers. When we were among the masses, when the fans would trample us with excitement, they always looked after me in the midst of the madness. And that made me feel special.
We traveled all over the world. We had concerts in Japan, the Philippines, Europe, South America, and for the first time in the history of the group, we did a tour through the United States, which included twenty-four shows at Radio City Music Hall in New York. It was crazy and impressive to see thousands and thousands of people stopping traffic on Sixth Avenue in front of Radio City and around the entire block! When we looked down from our dressing room, it was like a sea of people. Hundreds of police officers had to form a human barrier on Sixty-third Street and the corner of Lexington Avenue, where our hotel was.
Our fans were passionate, and they would stop at nothing. I remember another time we were in Argentina and there was a throng of at least five thousand girls outside the hotel. They had pins, photographs, flags, and all the Menudo paraphernalia. The girls would scream and yell out each time we would appear at the windows. All you had to do was put an arm out the window to drive them crazy. They would sing our songs along with cheers, like you would hear at soccer stadiums, but adapting them to the group. Later, some guys showed up—I guess they were upset because of all the attention Menudo was getting from the girls—and they started to sing their own cheers, but insulting us and calling us names. Suddenly one of the boys went to where the girls were and tried to take down the Puerto Rican flag. . . . Well, the girls fought back hard! They beat him up so badly that I think he barely made it out alive.
Things like that happened to us all the time. It was truly crazy.
What a change! Before I became a part of the group, my life was completely different. From a simple life in Puerto Rico, where I lived surrounded by family and friends, and hardly ever wandered beyond the few square blocks of my neighborhood, I leaped into a world of fame, luxury, and worship. I went from being the beloved son of my parents
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