College orchestra--the Meyerson, Dallas. I think there's still a bit of magic fairy dust lingering up in the rafters there, left over from that final chord we played on Respighi's Pines of Rome. I've never heard a sound linger that long; the acoustics at the Meyerson could suspend life itself if you adjusted the panels just right. Not only that, but the afterglow from the performance had more kick than an arrow from Cupid's bow. The black gowns, the tuxes, the reception drinks and hors devours, and can you believe I almost said "yes" to the trumpet player? I'm glad I didn't.
Orchestra trips were bewitching. I still can't believe I stalked that boy in the khaki pants during high school All-State. My friend put me up to it, and we spent the entire weekend tracking him up and down the elevator while we conjured up some crazy way to meet him. (Gee, a nice handshake probably would have worked.)
Then there was the banquet, high school orchestra trip, Washington DC. We were all dressed nicely for the occasion, sitting around white tablecloths and fancy silverware, waiting for the meal to begin. I had my suspicions about the cellist sitting next to me, which were confirmed when he fumbled his iced tea onto my lap. How could he even consider it, he being a sophomore and I a junior? It was doomed to fail, of course, but one can't help but entertain the notion during an orchestra trip.
Fortunately, this time I'm traveling to Dutch Harbor with three older women. And I'm old, too, I guess; I forget that sometimes. We'll probably just practice a lot and be helpful and informative to all the kids, and stodgily entertain our audiences instead of stalking them. We'll go to bed early and remember to pack things like ear plugs and ibuprophen, and try not to miss our husbands too much.
What am I saying? I never go to bed early.
But regardless, have a wonderful, safe trip.
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