Da Bears
When I realized I scored tickets to the Bears game, and my band scheduled a gig in the city that very same day, my brain immediately jumped into action, spinning in circles in anticipation. Two cool events in the same day? With a perfectly spaced out schedule to feed my efficiency obsession? Think about it. Parking reservation at 10am. Game at 12pm. Gig setup at 4pm. Dance at 6pm. Home by 10pm. Less than 2 miles between the two events. It may seem a bit strange to feel jazzed up about logistics, but we all have our own definition of beauty, so let me have this. A full day. Falling into place as if I had planned it out with perfection.
I loved loading up my schedules ever since high school. The more activities, the better. Marching band, jazz band, orchestra, concert band, pit orchestra, and some jazz choir for good measure. Shuttling around between my all-boys high school and two different all-girls high schools kept me busy and distracted me from the awkward brain jitters, insecurities, and emotions of teen-hood.
I would perfect this game of schedule Tetris for decades, through college, apparently all the way to any given Sunday. Pushing myself to pack it all. Living life to the fullest! Coincidentally, these habits continued their helpful side-effects of distracting me from the awkward brain jitters, insecurities, and emotions of adulting-hood.
Thus came the first Sunday of Bears regular season, with San Francisco on their way into town, I added the ticket to my phone, as you do these days because paper tickets are for suckers! Then the rain came. So much rain. The old me welcomed the elements. All part of the experience. I had a plastic poncho, so half of me stayed mostly dry. Sure I had to squeeze the dripping water from my pants and sweatshirt, but I had a change of clothes for the gig, so clouds, let your rain fall down on me!
My guests and I chowed on the exact right kind of junk to match the mood of a sports event, including hot dogs, beef sandwiches, and pretzels. Of course, the line was so long, two different sets of people sang happy birthday at the concession stand, while the concession staff clanged a cow bell. Of course, that’s what was missing from the menu... more cow bell.
The big giveaway was towels. The announcer would then call out every time they had a third down “Third Towel!” Who thought of this terrible marketing idea? Third towel? Did I miss the first and second towel? This “clever” rhyming scheme reminds me of the same misguided brilliance as whoever coined “Nothing Bundt Cakes”. Does this mean you don’t have bundt cakes? Or you have everything except bundt cakes? It’s confusing. And annoying. But, not enough to stop eating their delicious cakes. I’m complicated.
The only other promotion I had to mock was the sponsor that gave away a $25 gift card to a fan for a guessing game. Doesn’t that seem like a very small amount compared to what they probably paid for a sponsored time slot involving coordinating the score board and the announcer, as well as staff to help pick a fan and usher them to the field for that moment? You couldn’t spare more than 25 bucks?
As you can imagine, rain ultimately became and after thought because the Bears won the game. As I headed back the 12 blocks from Soldier Field to the parking lot, I jumped in and out of puddles, skipping around the slow moving groups of humans (you know, for efficiency). At this point, as I felt my very own personal puddle forming inside my shoes and squishing between my toes, I remembered that I forgot to bring a change of socks.
Luckily, I passed a Target. So, I grabbed a pair of children’s black socks with skeleton feet for a dollar to complete my all black, completely dry gig ensemble.
I pulled out of the garage at 4 minutes to 4pm, just within the bounds of my parking reservation, and made it to the concert hall in fifteen minutes. As I warmed up my trumpet, I suddenly felt the full exhaustion of someone my age attending a pro sports event in the rain.
Even though my schedule worked out as planned to perfection, I was worn and broken before even starting the three-hour big band performance. So much shouting at both events left my voice shredded like pulled pork thrown into a wood chipper. My muscles became so malleable that if you slapped a newspaper on them, the print would make a mirror impression. Honestly, I considered dropping to the old wood floor into the sweet, comforting arms of a deep snore.
Still, I accomplished what I set out to do. I had fun, and it only took three full days to recover. Apparently, those same three days turned out to be the incubation period for the virus I caught winding through sweaty dudes from Berwyn, with their shouts about how Green Bay sucks (even though we beat the 49ers?)
So, after nursing a sore throat and headache a few days, I eventually returned to a normal healthy state of existence by the following weekend -- just in time for another full day with two Zoom calls and a wedding gig in Joliet. Only, In this case, I enjoyed the bonus experience of a late-night taco buffet at this clearly haunted mansion… and dry socks.
