The Windy City Quartet at Mammoth Cave –Sold Out Show- Part 3

The Grand Ave Tour had been an impressive few hours of sights, spectacles and sounds, but the closer we drew to the main event the emptier my stomach felt.

My three friends, Ben, Bocheng, and Mikey, and I were scheduled to perform an underground performance as a quartet in front of the 80 others in our tour group. The only reason this was considered underground by any measure was that we were, in fact, a couple of hundred feet under the ground in Mammoth Caves. The forthcoming show had all the elements of being a wondrous one. The setting was perfect, the audience was large and excited, the promoter, our tour guide, was setting the stage. The sole problem lay in the small fact that not one of the four of the performers knew how to sing a note.

As a result of that and the fact that no two of us knew the lyrics to the same song, we figured that the performance couldn't be pretty. Yet, we were continually reminded of how pretty it should be every 15 of the following minutes as the tour guide would promote the upcoming show.

"I know this part of the cave is difficult to climb, folks, but we have quite a surprise for you later in the tour," he winked in our direction. We didn't wink, we just cleared our throats.

Our discomfort was tangible. I could see it exude from the others and I'm positive they could see it from me. To describe the looming performance as fear-inducing would be to fall just short. We were ascending a giant roller coaster as we climbed up through the cave. Ahead lie what promised to be a steep and very fast drop.

Our fear of follow-through was only amplified by our tour guide's continual reminder of the upcoming surprise as to be the consolation or even the purpose of the lengthy battle against these miles of caverns. Never in my life, even when it was due to me, had my actions ever been promoted this frequently and enthusiastically. 'Why should it now?' I asked apostrophically.

"What did we get ourselves into?" Mike asked the rest of us, "Are we going to sing?" Each of us individually had great hesitation, but together, as a whole, we just couldn't decide NOT to do it. So, forward we went as the last hour of the journey melted into a prolonged amalgam of angst and impatience. Here we were in the most carefully carved cavern system with both backbone and epochs of persistence and we trembled with restless steps. Upon walking into the next room it was clear to see why; our feelings had been given measurable weight.

"Here we have what is called the New York Hippodrome" the tour guide bellowed to the lot of us, "This is one of the largest rooms in all the caverns. It is 250 feet in width, 300 feet in length and 85 feet high. The sound here is wonderful enough, with natural acoustics, that cave owner George Morrison would have opera performances in this room for visitors from the east coast. Thousands would come from afar to watch performances in this room by some of the greatest voices of the day. You, my guests, have the same delight."

He looked over toward us, "Are you gentlemen ready?"

To see the response of us and our audience follow this blog or catch up a couple of days when I post the last part of this steamy memoir.

The Windy City Quartet at Mammoth Cave –Sold Out Show- Part 1

The four of us arrived at Mammoth Caves on a Friday.  The air was chipper and the wind cut through our jackets.  Though it was November, it was the beginning of the month, and something about heading in the direction of south gave us a deceptive sense of warmth.  We hadn’t prepared for the late Kentucky autumn.  Yet below ground, under our parked car, lay the longest cave system in the word where the temperature, regardless of time of day, season of the year or of the year itself was always a consistent 54°. 

We reared to get below the damp and chilly ground and into the damp and chilly caverns.  Ben, Mike, Bocheng and I had signed up for two different tours. We would save the lantern tour for the second day as we figured to begin our exploration of the National Park/World Heritage Site with a lengthy and general historical tour with a large tour group.

We pushed into one of the two buses that took us to a manmade entrance. Our tour guide, a young college student from nearby Bowling Green gave us a bit of information about the tour in a southern drawl.

“While we hope to have a light and cheery tour, I am obliged to remind you of the precautions we must take to ensure the safety, welfare and satisfaction of everyone else on the tour,” Bocheng looked at Michael and Michael looked at Ben and Ben looked at me and together we all smirked. “We’ve merged two tours together today, and due to the large size of our tour group, we have to be especially courteous to others and respectful to the cave. I hope you can manage this.”

We hoped so too.  Stay tuned for part two of this tale where we find out if the four of us were able to manage courteously and respect.

It’s Christmastime in the City

Once again we’re blessed with the warmth of friends and family to keep us kindled  in, these, the coldest and darkest of days.  I’ve returned for the evening from a great show played by my friends Treaty of Paris at the Double Door in Chicago.  To be with close ones is to find comfort amid this uncomfortable season.

At times, Chicago slaps its residents with a wintery sting.  Yet, there is a reason that they all remain.  Nothing compares to this area’s streets full of festive decoration, Yuletide song, rosy reunion and cheery spirits.  I’ve spent holidays around the globe; from China to France to Los Angeles to Spain and back.  I very truly doubt that any place, despite its othertime beauty can ever compare to the Christmastime of Home.

Here’s to everyone I’ve seen and to those I’ve missed.  Happy Holidays to you all and take great care in the coming weeks.

Ho Ho Ho!

Bad Weather?

If anyone in Chicagoland is complaining about the weather, Lord knows I am, realize that you could be in North Dakota where it is currently -44º F , the coldest it's been there in fifty years (and to to make it worse... it's also still North Dakota in North Dakota!).

If anyone in North Dakota is complaining about the weather... realize that you could be in Perth, WA, Australia, where temperatures are a rather uncomfortable 96º F.

I also like to look at our temperature under a lens of relativity. Because everything is relative -think- 'Hey, we're enjoying toasty 252° Kelvin!'

Now, if this type or reasoning doesn't work, just humo(u)r yourself in picturing my dilemma this last weekend: I went to try to start my car on Saturday evening, when I realized it wouldn't budge from its spot. Apparently, the snow from the above tree had melted and frozen around my car's tires creating a 6 cubic foot block of ice under my car (3'x4'x6"). The lack of friction on my tires made my wheels spin, my frustration grow and my evening's plans crumble. To get my car out of the spot finally required the help of my business school friend, Bocheng, a random Canadian man off the street, two shovels, a hammer, a baseball bat, a flathead screw driver and ninety minutes of hard labor.

Well, at least I'm not in North Dakota.