Saturdaaaay, and the livin' is easy...
Mostly, at least.
I essentially did absolutely nothing today until five pm, at which point I changed into a black skirt and white blouse and ran through my scales, preparing for the performance tonight.
"Is N. going to be there?" my mother asked.
"I don't think so," I replied.
"But it's his synagogue, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I feel like this is the type of event that will mostly be attended by old people."
I drove myself and my parents to the temple (I still don't have my license) and parked in the parking lot of the church next door. It was a private event, so my parents had to stay in the car until I came back.
I found the rest of the choir huddled on the sidewalk in front of the temple, all dressed in black and white and attracting curious glances from the people going inside. It was chilly, and there was an ominous cloud forming above the nearby mountains, which might have threatened tornadoes if those sorts of things happened around here.
Our director, H., had us line up in our standing order. "We'll be out here for another eight minutes or so, unless it starts raining."
It didn't start raining, and when it was time, the back row followed H. into the entrance area, followed by the second row, and then the first. We then stood in a very long line in the tiled lobby-place-thing outside the doors of the performance space, waiting for our turn.
There were tables alongside us, some still bearing partially-eaten platters of appetizers, which were cleared, some ten, fifteen minutes later, by women wearing aprons. There were still, however, a few vases of flowers and a narrow tin container.
"What is that?" wondered J1, who was two people ahead of me, slipping out of line to look in.
"I don't know," I whispered, following suit. It was full of what looked like black water.
He sniffed it. "Smells like alcohol...you know what, I think it's one of those things were people taste wine and spit it back out..."
"Gross," remarked the girl in front of me.
I noticed red slashes on her wrists. I'd never seen cut marks before. Imagine slicing open your own skin. Now, that seemed gross to me. Made me feel faint with the thought of it, in fact. But who am I to judge?
Minutes dragged on. They must have been running behind schedule.
I studied the stained glass pieces hanging from the ceiling in front of the windows. A 3-D Star of David. A page of scripture. A lion. A dove flying in front of a rainbow.
At some point, the girl in front of me stumbled in her heels and stepped on my toe. She apologized profusely while I hopped about on one foot.
I don't know how long it was before we were finally up after that.
At long last, the door was opened and we filed in to take our places on the stage.
I definitely missed a few notes, but it seemed to go pretty smoothly otherwise.
The roomful of people, all seated around circular tables, rose in a standing ovation.
Certainly one of the happier moments of my school performance career.
Afterward, I drove with my parents to a local diner and ate almost all of my rather large meal, the most I have consumed in one sitting in a very long time. After all, I'd only had a handful of potato chips since lunch.
Drove home and listened to Radiolab podcasts late into the night.