Subculture

Last night Neil played with the Nashville Symphony at a free concert in the park. I attended with some friends from work, and afterwards we got invited out by one of the cello players for a drink. I'd had a splitting headache all afternoon/evening, and wasn't really up for it, but since it was a good opportunity for Neil to hang with other symphony players I decided to suck it up and hope that a beer would help the pounding in my forehead subside. It didn't, but it ended up being kind of fun to talk with these musicians and get a little inside view on their little corner of the world.

They ended up swapping stories about all the mistakes they've made in their professional performances. My favorite was about one musician (who shall remain nameless) who forgot to bring his tux pants to the hall, and realized it too late to go back home and get them. He managed to find another player who was not going to be on stage at the same time he was, and they traded pants backstage in between pieces, like they were runway models or something.

It was just funny to picture it, and to contrast my work-related woes are from the ones these guys have. The anxiety is the same, no doubt. It's just that sometimes it's about pants.