I played another open mic last Friday night. It was pretty good.
Open mics are terrifying experiences for me. I am fraught with worry. Did I practice enough? Will I forget what I’m doing once I’m up there in front of everyone? What if someone picks the exact same song as me? Do I just not have the chops to perform live? Is my hair okay? What if I break a string?
In addition, I am gripped by the most harrowing feelings in the pit of my stomach.
Nerves.
So when I started into the first chords of my performance, what I specifically did not worry about was a certifiably crazy woman making her way into the performance area, precariously sloshing a cup of tea, standing in front of me, and starting to sing a different song.
Naturally, this is exactly what happened.
When she began to sing, I don’t remember much. What I do remember is the tiniest pause after I played my first chords, and when she started singing. In that pause, I took stock of the situation and I made a decision. I was on stage, I had already started, and I was at open mic to perform, dammit.
I was going to do just that.
There have been better performances of Sh-Boom (Life Could be a Dream) in my memory, and most likely there will be many others. But this one, featuring me singing alongside a crazy woman in a makeshift turban and mismatched socks—this one is all mine. In all honesty, I was happy with my performance. I hit all of my chords, not a single forgotten lyric, finished strong, and I sounded great, if the words of strangers have any weight and are to be believed.
So, when faced with this situation again, (Which is going to be a great moment—No it’s cool, I’ve done this before!) I can say without hyperbole or exaggeration that I performed in front of a live audience with a crazy woman, and neither of us got stabbed.
I’m just glad she knew the lyrics.
Because that could have been awkward.