Thursday, June 9, 2011


Last night, after the opera got over, I embarked on what I thought was a pretty straightforward mission: change clothes.

I fetched the clothes and headed to the bathroom nearest my locker, only to be informed that I could not go in because it was being cleaned. That's fine, I thought, I'll just pop up the stairs to the B-wing.

The B-wing was locked. Grr.

So I went up one more flight of stairs to the A-wing bathroom on the fourth floor. Three custodians were standing in front if it with their cleaning cart. I realized it was time to take matters into my own hands. Without giving them the chance to speak, I declared, "I'm not getting anything dirty; I'm just going to change clothes!" I didn't wait for a response, though one of them did say as I retreated into the back, "We'll stand guard for you!"

I successfully changed clothes.

Then I had to put my concert clothes back in my locker. I walked to the E-wing elevator, since my locker is in the E-wing two floors down. I pushed the down button. The elevator was at 1. It moved up to 2. And stayed there. In exasperation, I walked to the stairs at the end of the E-wing hallway and took them to the second floor. As I walked past the elevator again on the way to my locker, it said 4.

Having successfully stashed my clothes for the night, I proceeded to walk down the F-wing hallway, in the hopes of exiting out the third floor door (it's the closest one to the bus stop). When I got to the top of the stairs, there was caution tape blocking the way. Anyone who was nearby at that moment would have heard me loudly soliloquize about the stupidity of putting caution tape at the TOP of the stairs instead of the bottom.

By now, I was worried about missing the bus. I walked briskly down the F-wing hallway to the main staircase and out the front door. As I was screaming down the sidewalk to the bus stop (which is also blocked because they're reconstructing one of the entryways to the Wilkinson Center), the other pianist called my name and asked if I wanted a ride. Sure, why not. While she and her husband both mentioned that it would deprive me of a blogging opportunity, it might be good for me. They were willing to go all the way to Orem, so I said it was okay.

As I was getting out of the car, they both assured me it was not necessary to blog about the experience. I assured them I would not.

I lied.

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