Tuesday, November 16, 2010

My First Day Busking--Provincetown

I woke up the morning of Thursday, June 17th, ready to head to Provincetown for my first day as a busker. I got dressed: black top and my red and white polka-dotted skirt. In my year playing the accordion, I learned that what is on the upper half of the accordion player's body is very important. The bellows are constantly opening and closing, pressed against the player's upper body. Therefore, wearing necklaces or buttons adds unintentional percussion, and risks breaking said necklace or button. Pearls would have completed the outfit nicely, but of course I wouldn't dare wear them. Additionally, fabrics that are too smooth will take away from the necessary friction to hold the instrument in place, so I opted not to wear my polka-dot dress instead because it is too slippery. You don't want to risk sleeves falling, especially on your left hand, because your left hand needs to be practically adhered to the box of the instrument or you'll lose all control. Any long sleeves need to thus be out of the way. (The bike-riding accordion player thus starts each day rolling up her right pant leg and left sleeve before starting her day.) Lastly, the straps dig into your shoulders and sides after a while, so a full back to whatever top is necessary. I completed the outfit with my Scrabble piece earrings.

I put my dear accordion in it's beautiful case (built by my dad) on it's blue velvet cushion (constructed by my mom) and took off on foot to catch the 11:00 Flex bus. I had never traveled this far with the accordion in it's case, and I learned what a hassle it is to carry it. It was weight for the wrong muscles, and I feared blisters on my finger joints. (Number of callouses forming on my hands from carrying my accordion: 24) My folks are bringing me the rolling rack I got for Japan in eighth grade when they come this weekend, so that will help. Anyway, I was almost in town when I did #1: Number of rides to the bus stop I accepted from a kind old woman who spotted me lugging my accordion on the side of the road: 1. She, as did a Provincetown bus driver, assumed my box to be a paint set. She brought me to the bus stop, on the corner of Commercial Street and Baker Street (Dad, the one with the house on it) where other Flex-riders were waiting.

Number, in dollars, that the bus to Provincetown cost: 1. The Flex is simply awesome. It is a small bus that runs between Harwich and Provincetown, stopping everywhere in between. Fare is two dollars. It's called the Flex because it also flexes off it's route to pick people up at places more convenient to them and to drop people off wherever they need to go. You call ahead to "schedule a deviation," and pay a buck or two more. Therefore, it's full of those of us who aren't driving at the moment: young summer workers like myself and senior citizens. This day was a promotional "Dump the Pump" day, so fare was a single dollar. The only downside is that most of the seats face sideways, so motion sickness is inevitable. That's why it's handy to bring an accordion case. :)

Number of buildings I visited before successfully getting my busking permit: 4. I arrived in Ptown and went right to the Town Hall to get my permit. I saw that it was under renovation, and said that the temporary offices are on Jerome Smith St. I went to the Chamber of Commerce building next, in case they could give me the permit. They couldn't, but the man (in a Hawaiian shirt and two different earrings) gave me good directions to the outskirts of town, where the portable Town Hall offices were located. He allowed me to leave my accordion there, which was a big load off. This building was truly in the middle of nowhere. I had left the commercial area completely, and finally found the portables right next to Rte. 6. The sign said that the licensing department was at the rear entrance. I went there, and the door was locked. The sign said the window was closed from 12-1 for lunch. It was 12:18. Too long to wait patiently, and too short to go into town and come back. I was very discouraged at this point, because in addition to that problem it was starting to rain. I decided to play dumb and go in the front entrance. Once in, I asked a lady where to go to get my street musician's permit. Expecting, "The rear entrance, but they're closed until 1:00," my heart leaped when she said, "At the police station." Good thing I had gone to the front instead of finding this out after sitting on the steps for 45 minutes. I called my dad as I walked along Skank Painter Rd. headed towards the station. It was quick and easy at the police station. I filled out an application with only contact info (I was hoping for "Tell us the longest version possible of how you came upon your craft, hopefully including a broken bone.") She gave me my permit (a business card with my name on it and the town seal) and gave me papers stating [with a frown] the street musician bylaws and [with a smile] a welcome letter from the Town of Provincetown! The best part: Number of dollars permit cost: 0. I was expecting to use my first day to pay back the permit.

I headed back into town, and before getting my accordion I wanted to treat myself with a lobster roll. I remembered the last time I was in Ptown (around age 13) I got a delicious lobster roll on the wharf. I went over there, and I think I actually found the same place. However, it was closed forever. I asked the parking attendant where to get one, and he recommended the Burger Queen, because it's quick and cheaper. I passed many lobster roll places on the way, and found the place. It was in fact three dollars cheaper than all the other ones I had passed. In line here I met Damien. He apologized that his cigarette smoke was near me, and I told him it was fine since after my semester abroad the smell of cigarette smoke brings me back to Spain, so it's quite pleasurable (true story). We got to talking after that. He explained that he judges a town by it's burgers. Everywhere he goes he gets a burger, and that will make or break his time there. He's a graphic designer who lives in Hyannis. He was very excited when I told him what I was there for, and promised that he and his friends would find me before they left town. He, and his friends, were just so genuinely kind, and the interaction made me so proud to say "I'm a street accordion player" because of the reaction I got. He gave me great confidence to start my day, and we exchanged info and became Facebook friends ("In case [I] ever need a graphic designer"). Oh, number of workers at the place I got my lunchtime lobster roll wearing a sweatshirt that described Provincetown as "a quaint little drinking town with a sailing problem": 1

I went back to the Chamber of Commerce to get my accordion (which by then held several handbags) and sought a place to play. The Town Hall is a great spot (especially since it's going under renovation; normally you can't play in front of it during business hours), since it has shade and benches. There was a bearded man singing and playing guitar (much like the type you see in Northampton), and I didn't want to get to close, so I took a street corner across the street. Unfortunately...Number of times store owner asked me to not play near his store: 1. This was a blow, since I was halfway through my first song. I wanted to cry. Staying composed, I went back across the street, on the Town Hall side, to where I deemed far enough away from the guitar player. I cackled to myself that the store owner could then hear me even more than he could when I was next to his store, but I was on town property so there was nothing he could do about it.

I stayed there for the next three hours: Number of songs I played, on repeat: 15,
Number of songs I am completely sick of: 15, Number of MassPIRG workers who are also completely sick of my songs: 2. This was of course excellent practice time, and I felt much more comfortable on some of my newer songs by the end of the day. I was also, as I am every once in a while, in awe of my motor memory, since I would space out or talk to people and realize my fingers just kept going. This especially happened the second day I was there (not to get ahead of myself), I was super tired and at times actually forgot what song I was playing, but my fingers just took over. Or things like...in "Beer Barrel Polka" you do the first part twice. I had screwed up the first one, so I decided to do the first part a third time to get another shot, and to practice that part. However, my fingers aren't used to moving on to the B segment after doing the first part not in a multiple of two, so even though I was planning on going on I did the first part a fourth time. It would be nice if I got a say in these things, but I don't want to interfere.

I love the people of Provincetown. There are so many interesting people, and so many people like to stop and talk. They are easily distinguishable from the tourists, who are either totally feeling the town or a bit frazzled. It was easy to avoid distraction, though, because most of the good-looking young men who walked by me were holding hands with another good-looking young man (except that one on the bike who got away...). Anyway, some things that happened:

Number of men who rang their bike bells in rhythm with what I was playing: 1
Number of passersby who sang along with "I've Just Seen a Face": 1

Number of friendly Provincetown cops I met: 2 (Dean and Nathan)
Number of friendly Provincetown cops who clapped along with "What is Love?": 1
Moment of elaboration: Dean and Nathan were loitering near me. I was sure I was in trouble, and that they were waiting for backup enforcement or something before approaching me. I visualized where my permit was so I could close my eyes and duck and hold it out to them if I needed to. I scanned the area for a new place in case they were going to arrest me for being too close to another musician and thus violating the bylaws. It finally happened: they made their move. They walked over, and fear swept over me (visualize Gromit of Wallace and Gromit when he's afraid: ears straight up and vibrating, eyes wide, pressed against a wall). "Heyyyyyyy I'm Deeeeean!!!! Sounds greeeattt!!!" "I'm Nathan, are you new here???? We haven't seen you before!" (Not to stereotype or draw assumptions from these police officers' location, but I wondered if Dean and Nathan were more than co-workers.) They welcomed me to the town, and stayed there, smiling, for a song. Phew.

Number of passersby who asked me where the "statue lady" was that day: 3
I finally met the statue lady on my second day. We'll get there.

Number of men who commented "I play a different kind of organ" then winked: 1 (sorry, had to include it) When I told Luke this one, he said, "This is exactly why I worry about you going up there." I, on the other hand, am so glad he said it, since it contributes so much to the story.
Other conversation with Warren, the man who said this:
S: We're in Wellfleet for the summer, but we come up to play.
W: You and your boyfriend?
S: No...
W: Girlfriend? [Raises his eyebrows a few times]
S: No
W: Who's "we" then?
S: Me and my accordion!
W: Oh, so that's what you're into...

Anyway, Number of people who asked, very slowly, "where--are--you--from?" then acted surprised when I spoke English perfectly: 2. I'm sure playing French songs helps with that.

Number of fellow street musicians who walked by and said "Now THAT'S an instrument!": 1
This is a guy I spotted en route to the portable town hall. The first time I walked by he was playing guitar. The second time he was playing a vintage-looking trumpet. My age. I definitely want to get to know him more.

Number of accordion-featuring bands recommended to me: 2 ("Main Squeeze" out of New York and "Alec Something Something and the Eyesores" out of Providence). Apparently Main Squeeze is an all-female accordion orchestra. Cool!

Number of people I stopped on the street and asked to sing me the Tetris theme song, because it was on my list to play but I completely forgot how it went: 1

Number of people who, after giving up on thinking of the Tetris theme song and leaving, doubled back to find me when he remembered it: 1

This was the best. I chose someone around my age to ask, since he's most likely to know it, and he was totally into stopping and trying to think of it. I was really pleased when he came back, it obviously took time of out his day, but he was committed to helping out a Tetris-generation sistah.

Number of photography students who hung around to shoot: 2

Number of men who informed me that their Irish mothers would be proud, since they themselves never took up the accordion as she had wanted them to: 1

Number of women my age who said they were so happy to see me, since they're sick of all the "Melissa Etheridge wannabes" who usually perform on the street: 1 BE MY FRIEND PLEASE!!!

Ooh, I'll interject with a comment I forgot to include in the Facebook note: one man said, "blond hair...polka dots...accordion...what more could you ask for?" That's a line straight out of all my wildest dreams.

The last bus out of Provincetown was at 5:00 on the off-season schedule, so around 4:15 I packed up and sought a cup of tea before boarding the bus. As I walked down the street I ran into Carly from the pond and her mom, straight off a whale watch. Carly had lost a tooth the night before, after I met her! They directed me to a coffeeshop. As I walked I received many compliments from passersby. The polka dots help with recognition when the accordion isn't exposed. Celebrity life is nice:) I finally got a cup of tea and counted out my earnings: $53.41, a chocolate coin, and a rainbow livestrong bracelet (that Damien from the Burger Queen had actually thrown in when he came to listen) in three hours of playing. Tea and sitting had never been so good. I was recognized in there by Josh, my second new facebook friend of the day. He's a young photographer who lives in Provincetown, who heard me play. He actually went to school for classical music, and has always thought about playing on the street. He suggested I learn Pennsylvania Polka for next time.

I lugged the accordion back to the bus stop. It was drizzling by this point, and I was freeezing. Of course my celebrity status stayed with me on the bus, my fans were swarming me with questions and compliments. SO annoying. :)

Number of leather garments (that I could see) that one man on the bus home was wearing: 5. He's one person I talked to. Another was Butch, a man who lives in Truro but works in Provincetown. I said I work at the Flying Fish, and he told me to tell Sarah, the boss I hadn't met yet (dun dun dunnnnnn *ominous preview of future post*) that I had met her friend Butch and that "he actually liked me!" She'd get it. The third person I talked to was Tyler, a cutie around my age with a Raven Used Books bag. I was excited to see it and asked if he was from the Northampton area. It turns out there are other branches. He's from Cambridge. But it was still a worthy conversation starter, and he's now my first friend! But you'll hear about that in posts to come. He's from Cambridge, but he's living with his grandma in Truro for the summer. In July he's going to move to Wellfleet when his dad's house is done being worked on. He works at a used bookstore in Provincetown (be still my beating heart). He noticed my Scrabble earrings and that turned our acquaintance into something more: we discussed getting together to play Scrabble. Thank you, Aunt Laura, for those earrings!! He doesn't have Facebook (which is why I can gush about him), so we exchanged phone numbers. He goes to Bard and is studying film. I encouraged him to come to the Lighthouse that night to watch Celtics game 7, and he said he might.

I got back to Weflleet and dashed into the Lighthouse to pee (tea before 45-minute bus ride=bad idea). I was cold and sooo sore and tired, so luckily Luke was hanging out there and offered to drive me home.

This was one of the greatest days of my life. I was simply so proud of myself for actually going through with it. I get so many crazy ideas of things to do, but this was the first one I had gone through with. I am incredibly grateful to my parents, since "learn to play the accordion" could have been one of those crazy ideas that never happened if they hadn't bought me one. I also feel like this was such a Sophie Crafts thing to do. My first couple years of college I tried to do crazy stuff to establish myself as a quirky individual (which is why I have so many polka dots in the first place). However, the last couple years, especially this one, I really toned it down. I didn't feel the need to go out of my way to be different, and came to find previous things I had done to be embarrassing. I wore purple and gray this year instead of my standard red and yellow. I tried to make my hair look a natural color. However, I never completely extinguished the flame that made me publicly eat acorns, sharpie my hair and play kazoo at open mic nights in years passed. The remaining flame manifested itself to put me on a bus wearing polka dots with my accordion and sent me to a town that enabled me to be admired for it. Every dollar thrown in my case, every smile I received, and, most importantly, every "Hey you're the accordion player! You rock!" gave me so much fuel to embrace the fact that however many monochromatic earrings and tights I wear, I will always be Sophie Crafts, and Sophie Crafts simply cannot pass a summer only working at a restaurant. I have the skills and confidence to play a cool instrument on the street, so why should I do anything else? I am particularly envisioning myself in the role of a street musician as a Clark Alumna. Soon I will not know a single student at Clark, and I will be forgotten (although Pres. John Bassett told me I won't be when he gave me my diploma). If Clarkies are to be remembered through the Alumni Affairs office by what they do after college, there's nothing that would make me happier than to hear, "Ah, yes, she's the one who made it as a street musician playing the accordion after college." "Cool!"