Risen From Prison. Bosco H. C. Poon

from LA. They were not going to fund two projects. That put an end to this chapter of my dream.

      I felt like a loser and spent weeks feeling completely dejected. I had a terrible time coming to terms with the experience. Yet in my heart I didn’t believe that the dream was dead, so I began to think about far more pragmatic career backup plans. I had to prepare for the possibility that I was never going to make it in music, but I wanted a job where I could have a little artistic outlet. After chatting with my grandpa, I decided to apply to a hairstyling college to earn my hairstylist licence while I continued to seek ways to enter the music industry. That way, I could earn a little money and would have something I could fall back on for a while if nothing came of music.

      Another year went by—lots of practising, lots of training, lots of sweeping hair clippings from the floor—and then another big-name record label, Warner Music Taiwan, came to North America to scout talent in view of forming a hip-hop group. With the help of my new-found friend Yuen, a young music producer, I entered the competition with a song I had co-written. It was held inside Radisson Hotel, Richmond. Some big name producers and artists’ agents and two regional department heads of the record label in Hong Kong and Taiwan were among the panel of judges. Apparently, I hadn’t been selected in the first round of auditions at Fairchild TV Station, Vancouver, four weeks earlier. Somehow when the judges reviewed all the video footage in Taipei, they spotted my performance and picked me as one of the 12 final contestants. They had high expectations. Later I was glad that I didn’t know all these details until after the competition or I probably would have been under so much pressure that I wouldn’t be able to give my best shot on the stage.

      In the green room everyone was busy getting in some last-minute practice, while I lay down on the couch to rest. My theory was that since I had spent countless hours practising at the dance studio for the past four weeks, if I still didn’t remember my routine, there would be nothing else I could do at this point. So I chose to reserve my energy.

      “Boz, you’re up in 10 minutes!” The stage manager woke me up from my rest. I stood up slowly and did my last stretch. In front of the mirror, I looked into my eyes, tapped my face lightly, and said to myself, “This is your dream; now go get it!”

      The moment I entered the stage, all spotlights were on me. The panel of judges was at eye level. Lights flashed from all corners of the auditorium. Some friends of mine, including Joe and Kenny, were there cheering for me. I could hear them yelling my name somewhere in the crowd. Audiences didn’t bother me anymore. I had mastered the skill of treating them as a backdrop. Once the music kicked in, I was on autopilot because of all my practising, and the performance went very smoothly. I had a great time on stage. After I finished singing the last line and had my ending post, I bowed my head, greeting everyone, then headed back to the green room. Not wanting to think too much about the outcome, I lay back down on the couch to rest.

      An hour passed by before all the contestants were called back up to the stage for the final result. Standing up there, I didn’t know what to expect. The judges announced the second runner-up, then the first runner-up. In the midst of all the cheering and applause, my mind went completely blank. I snapped myself back and turned my focus to the two contestants who were holding their trophies, and I wondered how it’d feel to hold one myself.

      Suddenly, the MC asked everyone to quiet down as Sam, the regional department head of Warner Music Taiwan, came up to the stage. He spent a couple of minutes giving the audience a short story about the next-superstar search and how they ended up in Vancouver. He went on to list all the successful stars of their company. Unexpectedly, after his speech, he turned to me and said, “And I’m happy to announce that Bosco Poon, B.O.Z, is now part of our family! He is our winner! He is the next superstar of Warner Music.”

      In front of everyone there, Sam announced to the Chinese media that they were going to make me the next mega hit in Asia. I was overwhelmed with camera flashes and clamouring entertainment reporters. To be honest, as happy as I was, I wasn’t really prepared for so much attention. It happened way too fast. All that I was sure of was that I should smile, but I was so tense that I probably acted a little like a robot. While I was still answering reporters’ questions, I was escorted from the main lobby to the second-floor meeting room of the hotel. While I was waiting for the introduction meeting to begin, I excused myself to the hallway and made a quick call home. As soon as someone picked up, I screamed, “Aaaaaaah, I made it! I WON!”

      “Hey, you’re hurting my ear! What? You serious? You won as in—” my dad questioned.

      “First place, Dad. Can you believe it?!”

      “Yay! He won, he won!” He was yelling the good news to my mom. I could hear both of them clapping together. After letting them calm down a little I continued, “Please go dress up. I’ll come pick you guys up for dinner in two hours, after our meeting is done here. They want to meet you in person. I have to hurry back. I just snuck out to give you the news. See you in a bit.”

      Later that evening, the company took my family to a high-end Japanese restaurant nearby Radisson Hotel to celebrate in a private dining room. Everyone was treating me like a king. During dinner Sam promised me just about anything you can imagine: personal assistant, private vehicle, apartment in downtown Taipei, an expense allowance, access to the top recording studios, VIP access to the major clubs, etc. I was overwhelmed by everything. Just listening to what lay before me, I was starting to feel like a celebrity already.

      The next day I woke up to see my face plastered over the Canadian Chinese newspapers, and the Chinese TV stations were running the interviews that had taken place at the hotel. I could barely contain myself. I was absolutely bursting with excitement—my heart was racing all the time—but in a good way. I was a ball of nerves one minute and cockily self-assured the next. I spent the next couple of days calling all my relatives and friends to tell them that I had finally made it.

      Page by page, I combed through the preliminary artist contract to make sure that this was not some kind of hoax. It wasn’t. This was really happening. Gazing up in the sky I would see airplanes pass and envision myself sitting in executive class—or maybe even on a private jet—on one adventure after the next. New cities, new venues, new fans, and a new life. My head was so far into the clouds, I even practised scribbling my signature hundreds of times in preparation for all the upcoming signing events. It was such an amazing feeling, I have to say. For years, countless people in my life had pointed their finger squarely at my forehead and chided me for having set my sights on such an ephemeral goal. Chinese kids are supposed to become accountants or go to medical school or something. This contract would shut all their mouths. I would finally be vindicated.

      “Those who exalt themselves will be humbled.” (Matt. 23:12)

      While I was walking by an urban accessory store in Richmond Centre, the passport cases caught my attention. There were over 50 different designs. I combed through them to find the one that would suit my new image. Strawberries … ummm … no. Hello Kitty … no. Handguns … too violent. After I picked around for five minutes, one of the cases caught my eye. What’s this one? This is pretty cool. It was decorated with a pattern of steel-grey airplanes and had a glossy black lining. There was a bold silver airplane icon stamped in the bottom right-hand corner. That’s the one, I thought. It has the right look.

      Smiling joyfully, I strutted up to the cashier to pay. In a year, I figured, she’ll know me by name, and I’ll be so famous, someone will be picking out my accessories for me. As she dropped the change into my hand, my cellphone rang. Hmmm, I don’t recognize that number. Better pick up.

      “Hello, who’s this?” I asked.

      “Hey, uh … it’s me, Boz. I’m calling from Taiwan,” a familiar female voice replied.

      “Oh! Hi, Linda! I’ve been waiting for your call. How are you?”

      “I’m doing okay. Thank you. And you?”

      “Oh yeah. I’m doing great—practising non-stop. I’m totally ready to start recording. As a matter of fact, I’m buying a passport case as we speak. I can be in Taipei on a day’s notice as soon as you give the green light!”

      “Uh