When Good Gigs Go Bad

Remember that time I mentioned my boy was going to play his first music gig?  Well, it's not gonna' happen.  Here's why...

In our initial phone calls, the woman organizing the event gave the hubby and I very little information other than to rattle off a five-song set list.  While we both noted that the woman was a little abrupt and somewhat scattered, we made the assumption that everything would be fine because, really, how bad could it be?

Really bad.  That's how bad it could be.

The first rehearsal was Sunday afternoon at 2:00.  Curious to hear how it was going, I sent the hubby a text message at 2:45.  His immediate reply informed me that the boy had yet to pick up a pair of drumsticks.  I had to wait until the fellows returned home at 5:30 to hear the whole story.

As the hubby tells it, the woman was literally the most disorganized person he had ever met.  Rehearsal was being held in a crumbling, dilapidated shed in the woman's backyard.  Not only was the shed her music "studio," it was the home of several cats, one of which was living in the bass drum.

The hubby and all of the kids were forced to sit outside the shed for an hour while they waited for the lady to show up.  When the actual rehearsal finally started, the woman suggested that the kids begin by playing "Hey Joe," a song that was not only missing from the original set list, but one that the boy had never even heard.  

The hubby quickly gave the boy a little coaching and, by some miracle, he was able to play the song without a problem.  The only trouble was that the other musicians had no clue what they were doing and the instructor seemed unable to give them any guidance.  It was so bad that, on several occasions, the hubby had to start calling out guitar chords to the struggling kids.  

After limping through the remaining songs, my guys made a run for the car.  They decided to stop for an ice cream cone on the way home, and according to the hubby, they ate in complete silence, unable to process all the craziness of the afternoon. 

As the boy was relaying his version of the day's events, he kept using the word "creepy."  At one point, he turned to the hubby and said, "I would have started crying if I had been there by myself.  The only reason I felt safe was because you were there to protect me."

Our initial thought was to pull the plug and walk away from the whole fiasco.  One thing you should know about the hubby and I is that we are not ones to break our commitments.  We are of the if-you-give-someone-your-word-you-darn-well-follow-through-with-it mindset.  After much discussion and debate, we decided to put off a decision until morning.

When the boy woke up Monday morning, he had resolved to go through with the creepy gig.  The hubby promised to stick with him every step along the way.  By Monday evening, all bets were off.  The woman had called with yet more changes, even adding songs that had never been mentioned before.  

The hubby knew instantly that he had to protect the boy from the utter confusion and chaos.  He politely informed the woman that our boy would not be participating.

To be honest, we are all pretty relieved.  For now, the boy will just stick to playing with the hubby and all of our musician friends.  As for playing with other kids, that will have to wait until July when he attends The JAM. 

The best thing to come of this whole fiasco was our boy's renewed sense of gratitude for his cat-free drum gear.  It's the little things...