Last Night at the Gig

The Swiss guy screaming "Who wants more cheese?" at the top of his lungs. The former flute player sitting in the front row wrinkling her brow as we play. The birthday boy (70, red-faced) with a shaky smile. The older man with a black beanie who says, "Say, you look a bit like that star fiddler, don't you..." I guess it's better than saying I look like Jesus. That's what I hear more often than not.

At our gig last night there weren't that many listeners (read: there were lots of talkers). One screamed out an honorary "Ziggy zaggy, ziggy zaggy, Oy! Oy! Oy!" right as our flute player was starting a delicate Irish tune. We played on. I forgot the end of a tune we hadn't played in a while. We played on. Listeners disappeared to sing campfire songs around the bonfire outside. We played on.

After a few hours we cleared the stage and somebody put on some Beyoncé. Oh well. The Ramblin' Folks will play another day.