So far, 2007 has proven to be a very busy and exhausting month for MSO musicians.
Last week we did both Stravinsky's Petrouchka and Tchaikovsky's 5th Symphony. I would like to sit down and have a little chat with whoever programmed that doozy of a concert. It was exhausting, both mentally and especially physically. I do love both pieces, but I've never played the Tchaik without an assistant and I was really stiff from all the loud and constant playing. I did love not having to play the solo. It was nice to just listen to it and enjoy it. Barnewitz did an exquisite job with it. I have to ask him about how he approached it - it was different from how I've done it in the past and I liked his better. More introspective, not overplayed; and I really loved his articulation for some of the sustained notes in the peak phrases.
Petrouchka was fun and very intellectually stimulating. If you've ever played Stravinsky, you know you have to count like a crazy person just to know where in blazes you are at any given point. What the Tchaik did to my face, Petrouchka did to my brain. By the time the week was over, I felt like my face and brain had been pureed, thrown into a saucepan and scrambled along with my sanity.
I did enjoy the Stravinsky though. Stravinsky's my favorite composer of them all. Can you guess who else is in my top 5? ;)
This week is much more manageable. We're doing Prokofiev's Cinderella, and Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #3. Gorgeous, beautiful, sweeping, moving. The best combination of elements in a horn part - we have lots of interesting things to do, but none of them wastes your face. There's plenty of recovery time in between, too, which helps immensely (the Tchaik was just constant playing, pretty much the whole time).
What's next week? Hmm...Oh yes, Scheherezade, which I adore, and Shostakovitch Vln. Concerto #1. We did the Scheherezade already on tour this year, so I don't have to practice it. I don't know what my part looks like for the Shostakovitch, but I don't care - he's one of my favorite composers of all time (oops, I gave away another one of my top 5 composers!!).
What else? Bianca, Emma and Gabby are doing fine. I took some hilarious pictures of them recently that I will post soon. David and I used a gift card tonight for the Cheesecake Factory and it was really good but we're both rolling around like stuffed potatoes now. I didn't even have cheesecake (well, okay, I had a few bites of his, but still...) and I had a salad and some fish tacos which were amazing going down, but they felt like anvils when they finally landed. I think we'll be atoning for our indulgences tomorrow with lots of oat bran and high fiber foods like lentil soup for dinner...
Enjoy your weekend!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
There's a mouse in the house
Okay, so remember this post from last year when I talked about the stupid mouse in my new CRV's glove compartment?
Well, we cleared all the bags of birdseed and bird suet cakes that had apparently served as the deluxe mouse buffet out of our garage. I saw none of the evidence of mice that I had seen before (gnawed restaurant napkins and scatalogical souvenirs) for the rest of the year. I thought the problem was gone.
Until I opened my glove box last week.
To my horror, several Starbucks and Panera napkins had been shredded, gerbil and hamster style, to confetti.
This time, I was done. I don't care how much mice like masticating recycled gourmet chain food store napkins: no more furry little bastards are going to invade my new car. Not even my glove compartment.
So I took the humanitarian mouse trap box thingie that had sat, unsuccessfully, in our basement for so long when we saw a few mice when we first moved in. The pretzel was stale but was still in there, untouched, and the peanut butter was still on the outside flap (to lure the mouse inside toward the pretzel, wherein the door closes and it's trapped).
I put it in the glove box.
For several days, I checked. Nothing. Today I wasn't expecting anything either, which is why when I took it out today to check it I was not prepared for the fact that there was, indeed, a mouse in the trap. It was dead, and had an anguished look on its face which almost (almost) made me feel guilty and bad for it. I will spare you the rest of the gory details, but you can imagine what happens to mammals when they die and lose muscular control of their functions. It was, in a word, completely nasty.
Fortunately the trap was designed for this, and I was able to dispose of the putrid mouse (which could have only been in there for a day, and in very cold temperatures which should have preserved it) without having to touch it. But the smell was ungodly.
I am hoping that I won't get any more mice. But the trap is obviously working, and I'm going to keep putting it in there until I stop seeing the hairy little pests in my damn car. I don't go hanging out in their field nests, do I? Sheesh.
Nasty. That's what that was. That's the Mot Du Jour.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Australian cellist working in China
This was posted to the orchestra-l email list I'm subscribed to, and I thought it was fascinating. Very interesting perspective on how orchestras function in other corners of the world!
**********************
As a young, aspiring cellist there are a few places I thought I might end up: London, Paris, New York, perhaps even Berlin. Over the years this list altered slightly but one place that was never on it was mainland China. Yet here I am trialing as principal cellist of the Shenzhen Symphony orchestra; an orchestra in a city that, just two months ago, I didn’t know existed.
In fact it’s not that surprising that I hadn’t heard of Shenzhen. Just 25 years ago this city didn’t exist at all. It was just a small fishing village on the border of China and Hong Kong. Since being granted “special economic zone” status in 1980 it has grown to a city of 16 million people, hundreds of sky scrapers, thousands of cars, pollution, corruption, 33 billion fake designer watches, and one Symphony Orchestra.
China was never a place I planned to work. In fact I’m still somewhat surprised at being here at all. In 2005, after finishing most of my Master’s Degree in Brisbane (a few papers still withstanding), I moved to Melbourne in search of casual work with the various orchestras there. The move was a strain, I had almost no contacts in Melbourne, no money, and students were few and far between. So I found myself doing what so many aspiring musicians do: working in hospitality. Before I knew it I was drowning in a sea of Mocha Latte and Belgian waffle orders, getting no practice done, missing audition opportunities, and watching my dream fade away fast.
So when the call came through from an old acquaintance in Brisbane that the Shenzhen Symphony was looking for cellists, I put together a CD faster than a brass player heading to the pub after a Mahler concert. In two days I managed to get a decent recording down, having paused only for the occasional train to pass by (which, in fact, was every 10 minutes. They ran within meters of our back door). A few weeks and 140’000 Mocha Latte orders later I got the call: The Shenzhen Symphony wanted me there immediately, yesterday if at all possible. So I packed my bags, said farewell to my girlfriend, and headed to China with nothing but my cello, a few summer clothes, and my enormous Mandarin vocabulary: “fat”, “bugger”, “coffee”, and “Mapo Tofu”.
In a recent edition of BBC’s Top Gear Jeremy Clarkson was heard saying about some nameless car that ‘‘This...is probably the best of the people carriers. Not that that’s much to shout about. That’s like saying: ‘Oh good, I’ve got syphilis, the best of the sexually transmitted diseases.’” So when I was told that I’d be playing with “probably the best orchestra Guangdong province” that exact phrase leapt to mind.
The Orchestra I found myself in is a strange beast indeed. What you have is a full time, full size, fully funded symphony orchestra that evidently has nothing to do. They’re completely government funded which seems to absolve them of any responsibility in regards to minor things, like putting on concerts or finding an audience. In the six weeks since I’ve been here we’ve played just one concert which involved any degree of preparation (Brahms 4th Symphony). Despite also including the Bruch violin concerto, performed by an excellent Chinese violinist, this concert drew less than 200 people.
The other performances have been more akin to pops concerts, and even that is stretching the definition of pops concert. One gig last week had the entire orchestra sitting on a giant platform which actually rolled onto the stage from the wings. We had been hired to play less than six minutes of background music whilst two speakers gave our audience (Shenzhen’s local army divisions) a nice, moral-boosting speech. The stage broke in half during the dress rehearsal leaving the string players in the wings, propelling the brass on stage, and dumping the wind section somewhere in between. The show was abruptly canceled. Prior to this was a special performance for the wives and children of Guandong’s largest cigarette manufacturer. This consisted primarily of Christmas music which, in the true spirit of communism, has been completely disassociated with any form of religious holiday so we can hear it all year round (please kill me).
What makes the above seem even stranger is that the orchestra is actually quite good. There are a large number of excellent musicians from many countries, particularly Eastern Europe. The technical ability of the cellists in my section is formidable and has been quite a wake-up-call for me. The main thing holding these musicians back is money. For many of the Chinese and Russians here this orchestra is the end of the line. Salaries for westerners like myself are reasonably good. Salaries for Chinese and Russians are not. With a monthly income less than that of an underage Australian café worker, these guys can’t afford to travel overseas for Auditions. And they certainly can’t afford the quality of instrument necessary for a position in a professional western orchestra. I am surrounded by cellists who know the complete Piatti caprices by heart, yet whose cellos are literally held together by sticky tape. I was speaking to one excellent Georgian bass player who has his heart set on working in London. In the early 90’s he had finally pulled enough money together to buy a decent bass. Then, during the attempted coup in his homeland, a tank fired a shell on his apartment. It destroyed his house, his bass, and came within inches of killing his family. Needless to say these are experiences that your average Australian musician just doesn’t have to contend with.
Most of the Chinese musicians are wonderful people and wonderful players. Tomorrow we’re due to give a concert of all piano concertos; the soloist in the Mozart is nine, the girl playing the Rachmaninov (second concerto) is just 14. These are some of China’s new prodigies in a country where 100 million people study classical piano. Australians and other western musicians are in an extremely fortunate situation where Chinese orchestras will hire us simply because we’re foreign. It’s seen as prestigious to have white faces in an orchestra here. It is also for this reason that every foreigner invited here is offered a principal position. Hearing the local musicians I can’t imagine that this situation will last for long. Those that believe Asian musicians to be lacking in musicality and adept only at scales and studies are living in a dream world.
I’m not certain what I’ll gain from this orchestra. I had come here hoping to perform some major symphonic works before returning to Australia to audition for the local orchestras. But sadly these works don’t seem to be on the concert schedule. In fact there is no concert schedule. Most of our concerts seem to be organized two weeks in advance at the very most. Occasionally we’re only given a few hours notice before having to perform. It seems the orchestra must play at the whim of any official who wants a symphony at his party that evening. This lack of organization extends to their treatment of foreign musicians. Having been assured a certain salary and accommodation package before I left Australia, I arrived in China to find the details had changed. They tried to offer me just two thirds of the original salary, and wanted me to find my own accommodation. Extensive negotiation followed. The accommodation I am currently in (paid for by the orchestra) is abysmal by Australian standards. I am on the fifth floor of a grey, concrete apartment building with no lift. My front door doesn’t close, the walls are full of cracks and holes, the gas lines leak, and there are live electrical wires running right under the shower. Whilst it’s easy to complain, I was given a reality check when I realized that in the opposite apartment, which is exactly the same size and condition, live ten people.
I’m going to stay in China for at least the next 5 months. Perhaps I’m not gaining the solid orchestral experience I had hoped for, but I’m gaining life experience that I’ll never regret. I have left the tranquility of Melbourne for a city that, in just a few years, will have a population larger than the whole of Australia. There are already dozens of Starbucks here, malls lined with Prada, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton shops (both genuine and fake). Shenzhen is a city growing so fast that “Shenzhen-speed” and “Shenzhen-efficiency” are well known tag-lines in the business world. If the orchestra starts to develop at anywhere near the pace of this city, than it could soon be an ensemble to be reckoned with. Until then, I know exactly the people to call for you next non-denominational-christmas-themed-work-party…
****************************
Charles is currently undertaking a trial as Principal Cellist of theShenzhen Symphony Orchestra. When not in China he works as a freelance cellist and teacher. He has spent much of the last decade at various universities throughout Australia, New Zealand and the UK studying both performance cello and opera, working with ensembles, large and small. Charles has been principal cellist with a number of other orchestras including the Northern Rivers Symphony (featured on ABC's AustralianStory), sub-principal of the National Youth Orchestra of New Zealandunder the special invitation of Benjamin Zander (conductor of the Boston Philharmonic), and principal of both the University of Auckland and Victoria University (Wellington, New Zealand) orchestras. Most recently he was a member of CacoFony, a clarinet trio and winners of the Australian National Eisteddfod (Canberra). For more, visit http://www.charlesbrooks.info
**********************
As a young, aspiring cellist there are a few places I thought I might end up: London, Paris, New York, perhaps even Berlin. Over the years this list altered slightly but one place that was never on it was mainland China. Yet here I am trialing as principal cellist of the Shenzhen Symphony orchestra; an orchestra in a city that, just two months ago, I didn’t know existed.
In fact it’s not that surprising that I hadn’t heard of Shenzhen. Just 25 years ago this city didn’t exist at all. It was just a small fishing village on the border of China and Hong Kong. Since being granted “special economic zone” status in 1980 it has grown to a city of 16 million people, hundreds of sky scrapers, thousands of cars, pollution, corruption, 33 billion fake designer watches, and one Symphony Orchestra.
China was never a place I planned to work. In fact I’m still somewhat surprised at being here at all. In 2005, after finishing most of my Master’s Degree in Brisbane (a few papers still withstanding), I moved to Melbourne in search of casual work with the various orchestras there. The move was a strain, I had almost no contacts in Melbourne, no money, and students were few and far between. So I found myself doing what so many aspiring musicians do: working in hospitality. Before I knew it I was drowning in a sea of Mocha Latte and Belgian waffle orders, getting no practice done, missing audition opportunities, and watching my dream fade away fast.
So when the call came through from an old acquaintance in Brisbane that the Shenzhen Symphony was looking for cellists, I put together a CD faster than a brass player heading to the pub after a Mahler concert. In two days I managed to get a decent recording down, having paused only for the occasional train to pass by (which, in fact, was every 10 minutes. They ran within meters of our back door). A few weeks and 140’000 Mocha Latte orders later I got the call: The Shenzhen Symphony wanted me there immediately, yesterday if at all possible. So I packed my bags, said farewell to my girlfriend, and headed to China with nothing but my cello, a few summer clothes, and my enormous Mandarin vocabulary: “fat”, “bugger”, “coffee”, and “Mapo Tofu”.
In a recent edition of BBC’s Top Gear Jeremy Clarkson was heard saying about some nameless car that ‘‘This...is probably the best of the people carriers. Not that that’s much to shout about. That’s like saying: ‘Oh good, I’ve got syphilis, the best of the sexually transmitted diseases.’” So when I was told that I’d be playing with “probably the best orchestra Guangdong province” that exact phrase leapt to mind.
The Orchestra I found myself in is a strange beast indeed. What you have is a full time, full size, fully funded symphony orchestra that evidently has nothing to do. They’re completely government funded which seems to absolve them of any responsibility in regards to minor things, like putting on concerts or finding an audience. In the six weeks since I’ve been here we’ve played just one concert which involved any degree of preparation (Brahms 4th Symphony). Despite also including the Bruch violin concerto, performed by an excellent Chinese violinist, this concert drew less than 200 people.
The other performances have been more akin to pops concerts, and even that is stretching the definition of pops concert. One gig last week had the entire orchestra sitting on a giant platform which actually rolled onto the stage from the wings. We had been hired to play less than six minutes of background music whilst two speakers gave our audience (Shenzhen’s local army divisions) a nice, moral-boosting speech. The stage broke in half during the dress rehearsal leaving the string players in the wings, propelling the brass on stage, and dumping the wind section somewhere in between. The show was abruptly canceled. Prior to this was a special performance for the wives and children of Guandong’s largest cigarette manufacturer. This consisted primarily of Christmas music which, in the true spirit of communism, has been completely disassociated with any form of religious holiday so we can hear it all year round (please kill me).
What makes the above seem even stranger is that the orchestra is actually quite good. There are a large number of excellent musicians from many countries, particularly Eastern Europe. The technical ability of the cellists in my section is formidable and has been quite a wake-up-call for me. The main thing holding these musicians back is money. For many of the Chinese and Russians here this orchestra is the end of the line. Salaries for westerners like myself are reasonably good. Salaries for Chinese and Russians are not. With a monthly income less than that of an underage Australian café worker, these guys can’t afford to travel overseas for Auditions. And they certainly can’t afford the quality of instrument necessary for a position in a professional western orchestra. I am surrounded by cellists who know the complete Piatti caprices by heart, yet whose cellos are literally held together by sticky tape. I was speaking to one excellent Georgian bass player who has his heart set on working in London. In the early 90’s he had finally pulled enough money together to buy a decent bass. Then, during the attempted coup in his homeland, a tank fired a shell on his apartment. It destroyed his house, his bass, and came within inches of killing his family. Needless to say these are experiences that your average Australian musician just doesn’t have to contend with.
Most of the Chinese musicians are wonderful people and wonderful players. Tomorrow we’re due to give a concert of all piano concertos; the soloist in the Mozart is nine, the girl playing the Rachmaninov (second concerto) is just 14. These are some of China’s new prodigies in a country where 100 million people study classical piano. Australians and other western musicians are in an extremely fortunate situation where Chinese orchestras will hire us simply because we’re foreign. It’s seen as prestigious to have white faces in an orchestra here. It is also for this reason that every foreigner invited here is offered a principal position. Hearing the local musicians I can’t imagine that this situation will last for long. Those that believe Asian musicians to be lacking in musicality and adept only at scales and studies are living in a dream world.
I’m not certain what I’ll gain from this orchestra. I had come here hoping to perform some major symphonic works before returning to Australia to audition for the local orchestras. But sadly these works don’t seem to be on the concert schedule. In fact there is no concert schedule. Most of our concerts seem to be organized two weeks in advance at the very most. Occasionally we’re only given a few hours notice before having to perform. It seems the orchestra must play at the whim of any official who wants a symphony at his party that evening. This lack of organization extends to their treatment of foreign musicians. Having been assured a certain salary and accommodation package before I left Australia, I arrived in China to find the details had changed. They tried to offer me just two thirds of the original salary, and wanted me to find my own accommodation. Extensive negotiation followed. The accommodation I am currently in (paid for by the orchestra) is abysmal by Australian standards. I am on the fifth floor of a grey, concrete apartment building with no lift. My front door doesn’t close, the walls are full of cracks and holes, the gas lines leak, and there are live electrical wires running right under the shower. Whilst it’s easy to complain, I was given a reality check when I realized that in the opposite apartment, which is exactly the same size and condition, live ten people.
I’m going to stay in China for at least the next 5 months. Perhaps I’m not gaining the solid orchestral experience I had hoped for, but I’m gaining life experience that I’ll never regret. I have left the tranquility of Melbourne for a city that, in just a few years, will have a population larger than the whole of Australia. There are already dozens of Starbucks here, malls lined with Prada, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton shops (both genuine and fake). Shenzhen is a city growing so fast that “Shenzhen-speed” and “Shenzhen-efficiency” are well known tag-lines in the business world. If the orchestra starts to develop at anywhere near the pace of this city, than it could soon be an ensemble to be reckoned with. Until then, I know exactly the people to call for you next non-denominational-christmas-themed-work-party…
****************************
Charles is currently undertaking a trial as Principal Cellist of theShenzhen Symphony Orchestra. When not in China he works as a freelance cellist and teacher. He has spent much of the last decade at various universities throughout Australia, New Zealand and the UK studying both performance cello and opera, working with ensembles, large and small. Charles has been principal cellist with a number of other orchestras including the Northern Rivers Symphony (featured on ABC's AustralianStory), sub-principal of the National Youth Orchestra of New Zealandunder the special invitation of Benjamin Zander (conductor of the Boston Philharmonic), and principal of both the University of Auckland and Victoria University (Wellington, New Zealand) orchestras. Most recently he was a member of CacoFony, a clarinet trio and winners of the Australian National Eisteddfod (Canberra). For more, visit http://www.charlesbrooks.info
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Hello, 2007!
Ahh....a new year.
I was chatting with my brother yesterday and he sounded surprised that I found this one of my favorite times of the year. While I admittedly think that much of February and March is a dreadful stretch of winter, there's something about it that allows for introspection, quiet, space to achieve and grow.
And it also means, if you made it to January, that you survived the holidays. Yay!
The reasons I dread the holidays typically revolve around:
I was chatting with my brother yesterday and he sounded surprised that I found this one of my favorite times of the year. While I admittedly think that much of February and March is a dreadful stretch of winter, there's something about it that allows for introspection, quiet, space to achieve and grow.
And it also means, if you made it to January, that you survived the holidays. Yay!
The reasons I dread the holidays typically revolve around:
- the anxiety of buying gifts that friends and family will like, need, & appreciate (I think I did fairly well this year, with a few exceptions)
- the discomfort of travel (the older I get, the more attached to my home, kitties, & creature comforts I become)
- lack of control over what I'm eating most of the time (bring on the sugar and saturated fat, though certainly no one is holding a gun to my head forcing me to eat it)
- the irrational fear that I might unwittingly offend a family member or friend since I'm not used to interacting with them on a regular basis & have forgotten where their emotional land mines are.
This year, I think things went very well. With a few exceptions of people that are hard to buy for in the first place, my gifts were well received, and though I was ecstatic to get home to my own bed, kitties, and shower, I managed my detachment from them quite well on this trip.
Highlights of the trip included:
- My mother-in-law Mimi's open house, which was a lot of fun and a nice way for me to meet more of David's extended family community
- Seeing and spending a lot of time with our niece, Jenna (my sister Dana's daughter), who continues to be absolutely adorable and even more interesting as her interactive capabilities expand
- Relief at getting in some practicing every single day and knowing my endurance and lip wasn't completely deteriorating away from my normal playing schedule - Verne Reynolds etudes totally kick some major caboose! (They sure kick mine, which is what I need!)
- Playing games with Phil & Julie on our fun visit down to Columbus, where we enjoyed the fruits of Julie's expert culinary labors for dinner on Wednesday after Christmas. We had a ball, and man, can Julie cook! She's truly a gourmet. Phil is a lucky guy! ;)
- Getting to go to my dad's performance in The Boar's Head, a medieval musical rendition of what happens after Christ is born. To say it's a pageant does not even begin to describe it. Check out this link for more about their production; it's tremendous. The music was commissioned specifically for this big Episcopal church in Cincinnati, which owns the arrangements, and it's performed every year the weekend after Christmas by full choir, soloists, a full cast of characters in makeup and costume, and of course the orchestra. It's a very interactive experience for the audience, too, since there is singing throughout. When do you get to sing hymns in a setting like that, with full orchestral accompaniment and such spectactular orchestration? It was a ball. I grew up with my dad doing this every year, and we went to it every year I was growing up, and I loved it but never really fully appreciated the meaning and brilliance behind it. What a great tradition.
- Getting to see my Grandma Ginny & Grandpa Phil (my mom's parents) and my Auntie Lee (my mom's aunt, Grandpa Phil's sister) on our visit to Cincinnati. We don't normally get to see them, since I usually had to high-tail it back home to play a New Year's Eve concert. But we didn't have one this year, so we could stay later for their visit!
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Jing a Jong and Whistling Idiots
I am finally home safely from Key West, where I had a particularly rejuvenating and refreshing time both physically and mentally. It was so good to arrive home - yay, home! - to the enticing aroma of roast chicken and vegetables David had thrown in the oven before he left to pick me up from the airport (what a sweetie), to take a shower in my own bathroom (liquid hand soap in designer fragrances, yay!), and of course to commune with the kitties.
My homecoming joy was intensified by the fact that everything that had happened so far during the day had been exhaustingly annoying. The cretins running the Key West airport decided to announce less than an hour before takeoff that my flight would be leaving 10 minutes early and that everyone on it should be through security by now. Thanks for the memo, you weenie wagons! I panicked, because I wasn't.
But I made it on the plane to Miami. It turns out that this would be the least annoying of the legs of my air travel.
While waiting on the crowded airplane out of Miami into Houston, this guy sitting in the row behind me was subjecting everyone on the plane to his last-minute cell phone conversation. He literally kept yelling into it long after the announcement to turn things off, as if to say, "I'm soooo important that I have to talk right up to the last possible second before take-off." As if this wasn't grating enough, he was speaking in very agitated Spanish, and had clearly forgotten the oft-broken cardinal rule of cell phone usage to use your inside voice while in a public place.
Finally, to the great satisfaction and amusement of the passengers sitting in front of me and to my right, the flight attendant made him hang up. I could almost hear the collective celestial major chord sung by my fellow passengers.
I inflated my fleece-covered Brookstone neck pillow (man, those things are a godsend - worth every penny), read my latest James Patterson thriller "Mary Mary" and listened to my mp3 player. As soon as I turned it off as we were descending, I became aware of a slow, bluesy, whistling that was just out of tune enough to make your teeth itch. I thought, "who in god's name whistles on a crowded plane?"
After enduring several minutes of this (during which I was technically not allowed to drown him out with my digitunes) I turned around and made eye contact with the guy and raised my eyebrows. Several of the passengers behind me smiled at me in gratitude - clearly this turd juggler was irritating the crap out of them too. But the infernal whistling kept on, and was it my imagination or did he get louder after my death stare? Did he think we all really needed his nauseatingly tone-deaf serenade? Aircraft exit music or water torture? As soon as we were taxiing, at the earliest possible opportunity, I cranked up the mp3s again and let Gwen Stefani drown him out and felt better. :)
Then I had to figure out where the hell I was in the Houston airport, which was so big I'm surprised it doesn't have it's own damn zip code. It was the size of a small planet, and I had forgotten my space suit and Jetsons car. To my horror, I had arrived in concourse E and had to somehow teleport myself to concourse B in 20 minutes to board in time for my flight. This involved forcing my airplane-stiff knees and legs into a light jog for what had to have been at least a mile with my 30 pound horn case on my back - and taking a blasted train, all of which put me at the gate on time (phew!) but with no time to spare before boarding. I hadn't eaten anything all day at this point, which raised the IBF (Inner Bitch Factor) considerably.
The last leg of the trip was by far the worst. Continental's commuter planes are so innefficient space-wise that I literally had more room on the little puddlejumpers into and out of Key West. My ultra-thin new expensive horn case didn't even fit in the overhead compartments, which were ridiculously crowded with everyone's carry on baggage. God forbid people actually check their non-valuable/non-breakable luggage so as to leave space for the carry on bags that cannot be checked. Oh no! It's absolutely necessary that you lug every last suitcase and garment bag on with you! Because if they checked anything, they would have to go to the....gasp....baggage claim area!!! Which is at least 5 feet away from where they'll be exiting the airport anyway when they leave! The horror!!
Anyway, we sat on the damn tarmac for an hour while the crew repeatedly said that "our safety" was their "primary concern" and that there had been a "concern" that they needed to investigate and fix. Of course I was glad we weren't ultimately going to plummet to our miserable deaths because of some fart jockey's equipment malfunction, but it was still a drag.
But I will say I was extremely grateful that no one was using their playground voices on their cell phones or whistling in between semitones behind me. :) I wasn't about to discount whatever small blessings would happen to me today.
Finally, though we were up in the air and man, I was glad. It was a long flight but I read for most of it, which helped pass the time. And they did feed us a small sandwich about the size of a dinner roll with some chips, which was a godsend since I hadn't had any time to get breakfast or lunch yet.
When I finally got to Milwaukee's baggage claim, my largest suitcase never showed up on the conveyor belt and I had to report it. They said it probably didn't make it onto the plane in Houston. (The baggage space shuttle was running a little slow, apparently.)
So they're (hopefully) going to deliver it to our house sometime soon, and there's really nothing I absolutely need in it in the immediate future except my Y card, swim suit, cap and goggles.
I am going to actively avoid getting on an airplane in the near future.
However, despite today's travel "Jing a Jong" (a very handy family term, mainly used on my Italian mother's side, used to denote any stressful situation caused by any combination of incompetences, annoyances, loudness and useless behavior) I arrived safely, didn't miss any flights due to delays or layovers, and am absolutely ecstatic to be home again. During the blizzard on the 1st (the day I was supposed to fly out), I kept watching all the coverage on WGN of the people stranded at Chicago O'Hare sleeping on cots, and thinking, man, that's gotta suck big time. Even in my grumpiest of funks when unpleasant things happen over which I have no control (like the entire 10 hours of my travel today), I still try to make a valiant effort under my little black cloud to appreciate what I do have.
So to make a long story slightly less long, (or at least to end the dang thing), I'm home safely. :) The next few posts from me will be considerably more fun, involving lots of pictures.
And remember - unless you want me to personally come stand right behind you and argue loudly in french into my cell phone, don't whistle on an airplane. No matter how strong the urge. :)
Darcy
My homecoming joy was intensified by the fact that everything that had happened so far during the day had been exhaustingly annoying. The cretins running the Key West airport decided to announce less than an hour before takeoff that my flight would be leaving 10 minutes early and that everyone on it should be through security by now. Thanks for the memo, you weenie wagons! I panicked, because I wasn't.
But I made it on the plane to Miami. It turns out that this would be the least annoying of the legs of my air travel.
While waiting on the crowded airplane out of Miami into Houston, this guy sitting in the row behind me was subjecting everyone on the plane to his last-minute cell phone conversation. He literally kept yelling into it long after the announcement to turn things off, as if to say, "I'm soooo important that I have to talk right up to the last possible second before take-off." As if this wasn't grating enough, he was speaking in very agitated Spanish, and had clearly forgotten the oft-broken cardinal rule of cell phone usage to use your inside voice while in a public place.
Finally, to the great satisfaction and amusement of the passengers sitting in front of me and to my right, the flight attendant made him hang up. I could almost hear the collective celestial major chord sung by my fellow passengers.
I inflated my fleece-covered Brookstone neck pillow (man, those things are a godsend - worth every penny), read my latest James Patterson thriller "Mary Mary" and listened to my mp3 player. As soon as I turned it off as we were descending, I became aware of a slow, bluesy, whistling that was just out of tune enough to make your teeth itch. I thought, "who in god's name whistles on a crowded plane?"
After enduring several minutes of this (during which I was technically not allowed to drown him out with my digitunes) I turned around and made eye contact with the guy and raised my eyebrows. Several of the passengers behind me smiled at me in gratitude - clearly this turd juggler was irritating the crap out of them too. But the infernal whistling kept on, and was it my imagination or did he get louder after my death stare? Did he think we all really needed his nauseatingly tone-deaf serenade? Aircraft exit music or water torture? As soon as we were taxiing, at the earliest possible opportunity, I cranked up the mp3s again and let Gwen Stefani drown him out and felt better. :)
Then I had to figure out where the hell I was in the Houston airport, which was so big I'm surprised it doesn't have it's own damn zip code. It was the size of a small planet, and I had forgotten my space suit and Jetsons car. To my horror, I had arrived in concourse E and had to somehow teleport myself to concourse B in 20 minutes to board in time for my flight. This involved forcing my airplane-stiff knees and legs into a light jog for what had to have been at least a mile with my 30 pound horn case on my back - and taking a blasted train, all of which put me at the gate on time (phew!) but with no time to spare before boarding. I hadn't eaten anything all day at this point, which raised the IBF (Inner Bitch Factor) considerably.
The last leg of the trip was by far the worst. Continental's commuter planes are so innefficient space-wise that I literally had more room on the little puddlejumpers into and out of Key West. My ultra-thin new expensive horn case didn't even fit in the overhead compartments, which were ridiculously crowded with everyone's carry on baggage. God forbid people actually check their non-valuable/non-breakable luggage so as to leave space for the carry on bags that cannot be checked. Oh no! It's absolutely necessary that you lug every last suitcase and garment bag on with you! Because if they checked anything, they would have to go to the....gasp....baggage claim area!!! Which is at least 5 feet away from where they'll be exiting the airport anyway when they leave! The horror!!
Anyway, we sat on the damn tarmac for an hour while the crew repeatedly said that "our safety" was their "primary concern" and that there had been a "concern" that they needed to investigate and fix. Of course I was glad we weren't ultimately going to plummet to our miserable deaths because of some fart jockey's equipment malfunction, but it was still a drag.
But I will say I was extremely grateful that no one was using their playground voices on their cell phones or whistling in between semitones behind me. :) I wasn't about to discount whatever small blessings would happen to me today.
Finally, though we were up in the air and man, I was glad. It was a long flight but I read for most of it, which helped pass the time. And they did feed us a small sandwich about the size of a dinner roll with some chips, which was a godsend since I hadn't had any time to get breakfast or lunch yet.
When I finally got to Milwaukee's baggage claim, my largest suitcase never showed up on the conveyor belt and I had to report it. They said it probably didn't make it onto the plane in Houston. (The baggage space shuttle was running a little slow, apparently.)
So they're (hopefully) going to deliver it to our house sometime soon, and there's really nothing I absolutely need in it in the immediate future except my Y card, swim suit, cap and goggles.
I am going to actively avoid getting on an airplane in the near future.
However, despite today's travel "Jing a Jong" (a very handy family term, mainly used on my Italian mother's side, used to denote any stressful situation caused by any combination of incompetences, annoyances, loudness and useless behavior) I arrived safely, didn't miss any flights due to delays or layovers, and am absolutely ecstatic to be home again. During the blizzard on the 1st (the day I was supposed to fly out), I kept watching all the coverage on WGN of the people stranded at Chicago O'Hare sleeping on cots, and thinking, man, that's gotta suck big time. Even in my grumpiest of funks when unpleasant things happen over which I have no control (like the entire 10 hours of my travel today), I still try to make a valiant effort under my little black cloud to appreciate what I do have.
So to make a long story slightly less long, (or at least to end the dang thing), I'm home safely. :) The next few posts from me will be considerably more fun, involving lots of pictures.
And remember - unless you want me to personally come stand right behind you and argue loudly in french into my cell phone, don't whistle on an airplane. No matter how strong the urge. :)
Darcy
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