I'll try to make this as coherent as possible, considering the computer screen is wavering in front of my face right now. I'm so stuffed up that it feels like I'm in an underground tube, but a clear one, since I can see everything going on, I'm just slightly detached from the world and my body.
On Saturday, I drove with my mom to Ann Arbor to see my cousin sing in the UofM Glee Club's 145th Anniversary Concert. It's a 2 1/2 hour drive from Grand Rapids, and of course, feeling the beginnings of this horrific cold, I was late meeting my mom which started a huge dominoe effect on the whole evening, as it turns out.
On the way, I learned that we were to pick up my niece Avery, since she decided to join us at the last minute. When we arrived at the meeting point to pick her up, her sister decided that she wanted to go also. My mom had planned on parking the car in Ann Arbor, then walking to a nice fancy restaurant for dinner before the show, but due to my lateness and the addition of 2 under-10-year-olds, that plan was nixed and we hightailed it to the nearest Big Boy for a quickie meal.
We made it to the general area where the concert was to take place with 15 minutes to spare before show time. These 15 minutes, however, came and went as we sat in the line for the parking garage. Beginning to panic, my mom had me take the two girls to the auditorium while she continued in the parking queue. She handed me $50.00 and told me that I needed to pick up the tickets she ordered as well as buy 2 more. After a freezing jaunt to the auditorium, the girls and I discovered that the line for the Will Call tickets was wrapped around the building. We had no idea where my mom wanted us to meet her, we just knew that it was about 8:10 at this point, but at least the concert was being delayed. We finally made it to the box office, only to find that the cost of the 4 tickets would be $56.00. (remember, my mom handed me $50.00) I did not have any cash on me as usual, and the girls didn't either. I really do have to commend myself for keeping control of my mouth at that point and managing to swear in German rather than English so the girls wouldn't know that I said a naughty word. After a few minutes of me huffing and looking around and cursing in German, the box office girl decided that she felt sorry for us, and let us go anyway (yea! gotta love those rebellious college students).
We went around to the front of the auditorium, thinking my mom would be there waiting for us, but no mom...anywhere...we were the only people in the lobby at that point, and the ushers were getting impatient with us since we were pacing in and out of the front doors. After 10 minutes that seemed more like half an hour, my mom poked her head out...from the SEATING AREA!!!! SHE HAD BEEN IN THERE THE WHOLE TIME!!!! Turns out the ushers felt sorry for her and gave her a fake ticket.
We ran down the aisle to our seats, and just as my bum hit the cushion, the concert began. I looked and looked and looked for my cousin, but could not find him. My uncle, who was seated next to me, could not find him. No one could find my cousin. That's because my cousin was not there - he was home, sick with the flu.
It was a beautiful concert, though. The men's voices filled the theatre with heavenly chords that mezmerized the deathly silent audience. During the second half of the concert, a smaller group called the Friars came out, and performed some fun songs. I guess they were sort of the comic relief of the show, and my 9-year old niece was happy for this factor until they polluted her ears with renditions of the U of M fight songs (she claims she is a State fan all the way and that she would have to go home and wash the UofM germs from her body-ah, what a fun age!). My uncle and I thoroughly enjoyed the jazz portion of the show, as we had both been in a Jazz band at one point in our lives, and were familiar with the tunes. The repertoir included Holy Alleluias, African rhythms, jazzy bits and ended with some fraternal alma mater-type songs. I remembered a time when I used to sing with the St. Cecelia choirs in Grand Rapids, and felt a bit of nostalgia creeping up on me. Man, do I miss making music with people!
Whenever my mother and I go out of town, we seem to end up in some sort of adventure. This weekend was no different, and because my nieces were along, I felt as if we had passed the torch on to the new generation. Actually, I can't wait for the next one. We all need a little "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" once in a while.