Today was indeed different from most other days. After the rain-out of opening day yesterday our engagement was rescheduled (and the nat’l anthem was added to our line-up!). Unfortunately it was rescheduled for a time I had a conflict, and I spent most of yesterday afternoon reshuffling commitments and then feeling guilty about having to re-prioritize.
The alarm went off this morning a hair earlier than it usually does. Yesterday I couldn’t find my phone before work, so I dumped everything in my bag on the floor where it still sat this morning when I tripped on it trying to get at my alarm. Knowing I was going to take more time to fuss with my hair because of my gig today, I realized I couldn’t wait to get coffee on the way into work. But I was out of grounds…There was only one solution: make coffee with the used grounds from the day before. After my shower I started to put in my last pair of contacts. Then I dropped one on the ground.
I managed to disinfect it and get it back in my eye, but it reminded me that I need to call the Opticians to get an appointment for an eye exam, and I should call today because they have appointments mostly on Wednesdays. There’s something else I need to remember for Wednesday I thought, and then remembered that it was the eggs that need to be boiled in order to be died.
So I went into the kitchen, and at 6:20 in the morning, scrawled EGGS in sharpie on my prospectus from Webster Bank.
I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some event-related snacks, saw some students and pretended not to, and got to work feeling sick as a dog around 7:45. I had to teach the first 5 before going over to Symphony Hall, and fortunately I had already been planning to show a video for four of those five. Also fortunate: the video was narrated by James Woods, whose dulcet tones kept me company the first four periods of the day.
During lunch, rather than eat, I set up the chapel for my evening event. With about 6 minutes left in lunch I dashed into the faculty dining room planning to grab a PBJ and run back. I was told there was no PBJ. I started to cry (but I hid it while hovering over the peanut butter jar and trying quickly to make my own).
I made it to Symphony Hall by 1:45 where we rehearsed the Anthem and then got our police escort to the ball park. That’s right, a police escort. For one reason or another we went by the MFA on the way to Fenway (think about that, locals). Upon our arrival we went immediately to where we would be singing. A good friend of mine was also at the game with his boss, and when I saw him from a distance I started shouting his name. Unfortunately his name happens to be Keith, and all of the people there thought I was calling out to our conductor Keith Lockhart and I was frantically shushed.
I can’t even describe what it was like to go out in center field and sing the anthem. I was feet from Josh Beckett, and i kept thinking I saw people I knew who turned out to be TV news reporters. We sang. It was on TV. And it was good.
Our seats were on the right field terrace, and we watched the first 5 innings there as evening fell and it became very cold. Taking off my coat again to sing during the 7th inning was torture, but at that point the crowd on the Green Monster was severely amped up and they…gave us some of their energy, to put a charitable spin on it.
I zipped off after the 7th inning stretch to the prayer service we held tonight. I am way too tired to adequately address the meaningfulness of the service, so we will save that for another day.