The Show Must Go On (part one)

It was the best of times, it was….

Hmmm…. no. Try again.

The day began like any other day.

Yecch.

It was a dark and stormy night.

That’s better. Not completely accurate but damned close.

When you plan a tour you pray for the best and expect he worst. The worst is a complete cancellation due to unforeseen circumstances but that happens very rarely. The more usual is a bump or two that take quick decisions to resolve. Some bumps are larger than others.

On this recent Minnesota Orchestra tour the first bump was a small, personal one but disconcerting for the 30 seconds it lasted. Because it’s January and the aforementioned tour was one of three venues in the Midwest (Bloomington, IN., Champaign-Urbana, IL., ending in Chicago) the strong possibility of weather-related delays exists more so than other tour plans. The importance of checking texts and e-mails becomes important, nay critical, as I came to find out.

The last information I received was that our bus to the airport would leave Orchestra hall at 11a.m. on Monday. I left the house with plenty of time to keep that appointment and was happy to see the bus parked in front of the loading dock with time for me to park and load on to the bus. I got out of the car with my horn and luggage. As I stepped away from the exit to the car-park I saw the first of unexpected events, that being the bus pulling away from its position of waiting for orchestra members and staff.

I stopped as the bus passed in front of me, leaving me like Richard Dreyfuss looking at the Great White shark incredulously as it silently and proudly displayed its fins and teeth.
Jaws_The-Unseen-Monster_Matt-Hooper

As the bus passed before me there may as well have been a sign on its side saying “Check your e-mails. Check your texts.” The fact is I had done both but the evil entity named Glitch prevented me from getting the text that would have gotten me to Orchestra Hall on time.

I don’t know whether it was that look of incredulity or my mouthing words that indicated my incapacity to understand why I was ten seconds from being left behind to call upon the services of a taxi cab but the bus stopped at the corner and I was saved from a fate worse than debt. At any rate, the plaintive cries of my colleagues pointing out that I was standing mouth-agape on the sidewalk were effective in getting the bus to stop and pull over in a safe place for me to board. The look on my face must have been priceless. With that over, we arrived to the airport amid light, driving snow, the kind we are used to in Minnesota in January.

Continued

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