Nerd Tuesday, or Vengeance Is Mine, Sayeth Bet

It all started with this blog (Feb 7, '06). I encourage you to go back and read over it right now if you don't remember the story.

Well, as the blog says, it started long before that. It started with my induction (thanks to Peabody and his Crack Team of Lawyers) into the Chicago Symphony as second chair clarinetist, with "room for advancement." And it continued on to my year of bliss with those guys, my wonderful contract (no weird key or time signatures, no playing the alto clarinet, and telecommuting my practices), and the happiest day of my life, when I was presented with my very own Chicago Symphony windbreaker. ("I loved that thing. It was blue. And had a hood.")

But as the blog said, my year of bliss turned into nothing but heartache when I was let go of by the Chicagoans. They didn't renew me, and not only that, they took my windbreaker away from me when they kicked me out. And I became convinced that the reason for my dismissal all centered around the obstacle standing in the way of my "room for advancement," the Chicago Symphony's principal clarinetist, one Mr Larry Combs.

I'd decided that since Mr Combs was to be performing at Clarinetfest 2006 in Atlanta, that's where I was going to get my revenge. Sure, I can't play my horn, I hate to practice, and I did things like trying to sneak fruit onto his head when the Symphony played "Carmen," but what right did he have to influence my bouncing from that band? Well, none, I say, and I was ready to have a showdown with him, set things right, and, most importantly, take his damn windbreaker. It was only fair.

And so I began setting about the task of getting into top fighting shape for last week's vacation. I've been swimming, walking, shadowboxing, and doing "grabbing" lunges for months now. I know Atlanta's a very hot city, so I trained hard. And when last week arrived, I was ready.

We arrived in Atlanta on Wednesday, the opening day of the festival. We registered, had a walk around, and spent the evening listening to welcoming speeches and clarinetists giving it their all. I listened, sure, but with only one ear. I was too busy checking the room for my nemesis, Larry Combs. Of course, I never found him that first night. I never expected him to show. Not because he's one of the most famous clarinetists in the world and didn't want to sit in the audience like everyone else, but because he was afraid. Because he knew I'd be there, gunning for him.

But he couldn't hide forever. For the very next day at 11 am, Mr Combs was performing in a concert of the Louisiana Philharmonic Clarinets. See, Larry used to play in New Orleans before his heavenly ascent to Chicago. (I wonder what color the New Orleans windbreakers are.) So I broke my "screw the morning stuff, I'm sleeping in" rule and climbed out of bed Thursday, showered, dressed, did a final few punches at the air, and hit the pavement for the walk to the Omni, where the festival was going on.

The four of us got there early enough to be among the first in the hall, and we - and tell me this isn't brave - took seats on the first row. We listened to clarinet solos and ensembles, and finally the moment came. Mr Combs took the stage for his part of the performance.

I know he had to have seen me, but he wouldn't look at me directly. He played, a dixieland number, no less - dixieland! that's the style of solo I played in the esteemed Blacksburg Community Band! - then left the stage and returned with the other clarinetists to throw Mardi Gras beads into the audience. Did he throw any our way? Well, what do you think? He wouldn't even come over to where I was. But I knew. I knew I was on his mind.

The concert over, Mr M and I walked back to our hotel to hang out and decide our next move, and I took a small smoke break (sorry, Captain) on the hotel's carport. I would have never believed it, sure didn't imagine it happening this way, so fast, so unexpectedly, but while I was enjoying the fresh air and quiet, who should come walking down Luckie St but Larry Combs. Sure, Luckie Street is no Peachtree, and there was no crowd of onlookers cheering either of us on, but, well, one has to take advantage of the opportunities one gets. And I came to the conclusion that Luckie St was going to be very lucky for me indeed.

I walked up to him with a look of sheer dogged determination on my face...



...to say simply, "Hey, Combs. Remember me?" But I didn't have to do this, for he recognized me immediately. And let out with a startled (and frankly, I thought, frightened), "Oh-Ohhhhhhhh!"



And there it was. The moment I'd been training for for months, and dreaming of for over a year. It happened quickly - all the working out I'd done for one single blow to the tummy.



Actually, I thought it was rather nice of me to go to the stomach instead of the face. I could have ruined that man's career with a well-timed punch to the mouth, but no, I wanted him to play again. To think of me every time he blew a note on his clarinet.

And so I gave at it with my mighty punch, and he doubled over, a large, "Whoof!" exploding from him.



And without so much as a slap back at me, out from his clarinet case he pulled, yes, wait for it, his very own blue Chicago Symphony windbreaker. Which I yanked from his fast-moving little fingers and took for myself.



Victory! Victory at last. I don't care how hot it gets now, I'm just hoping it rains. Or is windy. As windy as a roomful of clarinet players....



Oh, by the way, I just couldn't help but show Mr M the exact spot there on Luckie Street where it all happened.



Ahhhh, but you think that's the end of the story, don't you? Well, think again, my friends and blogees. Because the very next day, not 24 hours after my defeat of the Mighty Combs, who do you think Mr M and I should run into, face-to-face, at the Omni? Yes, right there at the escalator. We were coming from the North Tower and he was coming from the South Tower, and it was my second confrontation with no less a person than Larry Combs himself.

Lord, it was an odd moment. Meeting face-to-face like that. He looked at me, and I thought, "Why not? I've won, I have the windbreaker, I got the moment I drove all this way for," and I said, "Hello!" He looked at me, now get this, if you will - he looked at me like he'd never seen me before in his life! And he stuck out his hand for a shake, and, well, I'm a good winner and all, so I shook it and pulled out my camera and asked if we could have our picture taken together. You know, when I'm 90, I might want to have something to look back on to remember all this. He said OK, and now, here's where things get weird.

As I was handing the camera to Mr M, he started up a conversation with Larry Combs about his Chicago Symphony windbreaker! Pointing to me knowingly and saying there was talk around town that his had been stolen. Mr Combs acted completely nonplussed over this whole matter and said, "I wasn't aware that we got windbreakers in the Chicago Symphony." Mmmm, yeah, Larry. Then Mr M snapped the photo, and we were both off down the escalator, and I think it's a tribute to the man himself that he was brave enough to stand in front of me on a down escalator with his back to me.

Mr M, ever the psychologist, thinks Larry has already blocked the entire incident out of his memory banks and is suffering some sort of post-beating amnesia. I think it was all just a cover-up. Pretending like he didn't know who I was - pretending he didn't have a windbreaker to start with! It's all rather sad when you ponder it.

Anyway, the picture of a post-beaten Larry and me is right up there at the top of the blog for all of you to see. He's trying his best to put on a happy face, but, boy, I didn't have to try, did I? Jesus, look at the evil coming out of me. It's a little scary.

I'm thinking of heading back into the symphony world. Wonder if the New York Philharmonic needs a second chair clarinetist, looking for advancement? Who telecommutes....

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners! So, what is your favorite instrument, and why?
- Honorable Mentions go to Stennie, with her, "Digeridoo, my digeridoo: eerie nasal ululations," and Kellie (with an ie), with her, "Dan. Man did Eb. Numbed Underthings." (No, Kellie, that's Mr M, master of the Eb clarinet.)
- Runner-Up goes to newbie Liane, with her, "Damn! My Drums Evoke Notes Unintended." (btw, stayed tuned - this woman is going to be a future blog.)
- And this week's winner goes to LilyG, with her, "Delights me? Darling euphonium -- new, used." (My buddy Seth will love you forever, Lily.)
- (And a mention to Michelle and Flipsy, who used instruments I wasn't even imagining!)
- Thanks to all who played! You've done very well again!