How I Found My Path - Mitchell Royel Story

cbr, 2025

It all started with dirty plates and exquisite seafood creations.

My first real job was at this upscale coastal bistro where the delicate aroma of saffron-infused bouillabaisse and pan-seared shellfish perfumed my uniform. I was 16, desperate for cash to buy guitar strings, and willing to polish fine china and crystal stemware for minimum wage. Little did I know that establishment would change everything.

Discovering Pescatarianism (By Accident)

After two months of watching our executive chef transform the day’s catch into these extraordinary compositions, I started sampling morsels during my breaks. The cedar-plank wild salmon with dill beurre blanc. The blackened mahi-mahi with micro-cilantro and house-fermented lime crema. The perfectly seared diver scallops nestled on truffle-scented cauliflower purée. I’d been a burger and chicken nugget kid my whole life, but suddenly, I found myself eschewing the terrestrial protein section completely.

“Dude, I think I’m a pescatarian now,” I told my friend Marcus one day.

“A what?”

“I just eat seafood, not other meat.”

“That’s weird, bro. But whatever keeps you skinny enough for those tight band t-shirts.”

He wasn’t wrong. Those vintage tees from the thrift store were my uniform outside work, and they did fit better once I switched to the seafood-and-seasonal-produce lifestyle.

10th Grade: Camera Phone That Changed Everything

Everything accelerated when my parents got me a camera phone for my birthday sophomore year. It wasn’t fancy – just a flip phone with a grainy camera that made everyone look like they were underwater. But it was MINE. I carried that thing everywhere, documenting everything.

The first time I held it, I felt this strange power. Like suddenly, I could capture moments instead of just living them. I started filming our garage band practices, our skateboarding fails, the backstage moments at school talent shows. Nothing serious – just us being stupid kids trying to figure life out.

Then came that day in April. We were rehearsing our song “Crowd Nine” (named because it was supposed to be better than cloud nine – yeah, we thought we were clever). It was just another practice in Marcus’s basement with our terrible band “Lunchbox Heroes.” But something felt different. The riff I’d been working on finally clicked. Our drummer actually kept the beat. And the lyrics about that weightless feeling of being exactly where you’re meant to be – they suddenly meant something.

I propped my little phone against a stack of books and hit record.

Video That Wasn’t Supposed to Go Viral

The video quality was terrible. The lighting was basically one yellow lamp and the glow from our amps. You could barely see our faces. But something about the raw energy translated. Maybe it was how the camera caught the moment I jumped off the amp and nearly broke my ankle but kept playing. Maybe it was how genuine we looked – just kids making music in a basement with no audience except a camera phone.

I uploaded it to YouTube with zero expectations. We had maybe 30 subscribers – mostly friends from school who felt obligated to follow us.

I still don’t really understand how it happened. Someone shared it on some music forum, then a small indie music blog picked it up calling it “beautifully authentic teenage angst captured in its natural habitat.” Then bigger sites followed. Something about the grainy footage, the unpolished sound, and the pure joy on our faces resonated with people tired of overproduced music videos.

From Basements to College Gigs

Suddenly, local venues were calling. We got booked at the coffee shop downtown, then the all-ages club by the university. By senior year, we were playing college parties and small festivals within driving distance. I’d work my shift at the bistro, change in the restroom, and head straight to whatever gig we had that night.

The pescatarian diet actually helped on the road – it was more economical than a carnivorous lifestyle, kept me energized for shows, and somehow became part of our band’s identity. “Those fish-eating kids with that viral video.” Not the worst reputation to have.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

It’s been years since that video. Our band evolved, members changed, and we’ve released actual recorded music that doesn’t sound like it was captured by a potato. I still have that phone though – non-functional, battery dead years ago, but I keep it as a reminder.

Sometimes the most ordinary tools give us extraordinary moments. Sometimes a first job teaches you more than just how to earn money. Sometimes a dietary choice becomes part of your identity. And sometimes, the grainy, imperfect capture of a perfect moment connects with people in ways you never imagined.

I’m not famous. “Crowd Nine” still isn’t topping any “charts”. But every time we play a show and see people singing those words back to us, I get that same feeling I had in 10th grade when I first held that camera phone – like I’m holding something powerful, something that connects moments to memories, and memories to other people.

And honestly? That feeling beats cloud nine any day.

-Mitchell Royel