It was so nice to get back to busking after nearly a month off. My last "outing" was in Washington, of course, the day before the Inauguration, which feels like forever ago. I'd like to say I used that idle time for ample professional development, but it is not the case. I learned only two songs, and had only one brilliant idea.
Anyway, I've said this before, and I'll say it again: busking is the best thing to do on holidays. Holidays are pretty disappointing, right? There are societal expectations of what one is supposed to do on said holidays, with St. Valentine's Day being the most extreme of all, I daresay. Therefore, you can get swept up on that roller coaster of either celebrating Valentine's Day or defiantly NOT celebrating it, or you can put on the pink socks with hearts on them, smile, and make some money.
I got pretty lucky weather-wise, by which I mean it was dry and above 30°. (My Valentine's Day busking in San Francisco rained out.) However, New England got a little snow last week. By which I mean several feet of snow that still towers over sidewalks on huge plowed snowbanks. I was worried about being able to set up, since my act requires a few square feet of level ground. But the brilliant Sasha figured out what to do:
I set up my tip box with the old Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox sign, just like the good ol' days, and ungracefully climbed on top, getting a bit of snow in my impractical shoes (of course my boots were just in the car). I really liked the effect of being up there, seeing farther than usual, attracting more attention. Since I was quite visible, I found myself really performing, feeling the dynamics and using the whole bellows and stuff (see "Passionate Mode," 2/18/12, Part 2). If there's a day for Passionate Mode, it's Valentine's Day.
Punters seemed to like the change of scenery as well. One made a comment about me on my "alp," and it did give me a "climb every mountain" sensation. Previously I was just in more of a "fiddler on the roof" mindset. For the rest of this post, I will refer to my snowbank as my Alp. Another called my ethereal accordionist-on-the-alp routine "surreal." Many took photos, and I secretly hoped one would make it into a news article about Valentine's Day going on with or without snow (and the brave heroes that made it possible?)
Although my toes did get cold standing in the snow, it felt great to be out again, staring at the big red hearts in the window of Faces, hearing Tim's accordion music wafting across the street, and celebrating the day with my #1 Valentine: my accordion*. (Awww.)
*About that: I found it interesting that people assumed I don't have a "sweetheart" because I was out playing. That busking is a back-up plan. Do waiters not work this night if they're in relationships? Bartenders? Police officers? Oh, Hallmark, you've done it again.
Thursday, February 14, 2013:
1. As I was setting up I talked to this guy who was asking for money. He was very cheerful and offered me his spot, also showing me his well-rehearsed routine: saying "Happy Valentine's Day," flashing a peace sign, then smiling broadly, exposing his tooth, and finally cupping his hand for donations. He's someone I've talked to before, and it was nice having him as a companion on my block. Nice of him to usher people over to me! Before he took off he surprised me by dropping a dollar into my box. Well, I guess good feeling was in the air.
2. A woman walked by holding a beautifully-decorated mini cupcake. She and I talked a bit, and some young women walking by asked where she had gotten it. Sh told them where, and I "joked" that they should bring me one. LOL! A couple minutes later, after they all departed, the original cupcake-tease came back, held out the cupcake, and said something. I thought she was asking me to hold the cupcake for her friend for 15 minutes. You've got to be kidding me! But actually she had said that there was no reason to hold it for 15 minutes for her friend, so she was in fact giving it to me. I guess she got the super-subtle hint. It was perfect and delicious, and the whole world watched me devour it. (Usually I crouch down or turn around for snack breeaks, but that wasn't an option on my Alp.)
3. I got a few requests: a man filmed me for his mother, requesting "Mama's Got a Squeezebox," of course. Another couple filmed me (I vamped the pre-chorus for "I Believe When I Fall in Love With You..." until the camera was rolling to dramatically do the chorus) and they asked if I could do any Zydeco. I can't, but I sometimes wing this one song off the Putumayo Zydeco CD: Rosie Ladet's "You're No Good for Me." I've had Zydeco on my mind, being Mardis Gras season, so this quick dabble satisfied me as well. Lastly, a nice couple asked if I had seen the Fillini film "Amarcord," which I haven't. They say there's nice accordion music in it.
3.5. A man walked by with a "Paint it Black" t-shirt, but I noticed it too late. What an opportunity!
4. Two older men stopped and lingered for a while. I'll call them Statler and Waldorf, since their commentary reminded me of the Muppets' classic hecklers with those names. They were very silly, commenting on people who went by and singing along to some of my songs. They ridiculed a man (after he had departed, of course) who asked me what I was doing and asked a lady with a pizza box, "Is that your pizza?" due to the obviousness of the answers. It was evident that they like to make each other laugh. They showed their sweet sides as well. Statler brought me a hot chocolate, and Waldorf assisted me with my gear when I came down from the Alp. On the subject of Valentine's Day, Waldorf announced that he recently celebrated his 40th wedding anniversary. Wow! That was also the explanation for why he wasn't home with his wife; they had done the Valentine's Day thing many, many times. Later in the evening Waldorf came back, looking for a very expensive bracelet that had gone missing off his wrist. It was nowhere to be found. He was quite upset about it; I hope it turns up.
5. Finally, a police officer appeared on the horizon. I discussed with Statler and Waldorf that my minutes on the Alp were numbered. This prophecy came true when the officer arrived, and nicely asked me to get down before I hurt myself. I tried promising not to hurt myself, but eventually gave in. It was okay, since Tim was playing as well I figured it would be good to diversify the entertainment that night and enlist Flaca, which I could only do on the ground. After passing Waldorf my accordion and climbing down, the cop asked for my permit. That doesn't usually happen! But we were good to go.
6. Later, a man walked by and commented that I had come down from the snow bank. I told him that the police had asked me to. He yelled "Fuck the police!" and continued saying something, but I didn't hear what it was because I was desperately trying to communicate to him non-verbally that the police officer in question was right behind him. Oops. I hope he heard enough of the conversation to understand the context, but Statler and Waldorf insist they saw the officer puff out his chest before following this innocent man across the street.
7. This guy wasn't the only one outraged by the censorship (if that's what you want to call it). I explained to another inquisitor why I was no longer on the Alp, and he exclaimed, "That's ridiculous! You should be able to play wherever you want!" I began justifying the rules regarding liability and stuff, but he interrupted me to say, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to Northampton!" Well, in that case....go on. "I'm calling the mayor!" he promised. "No, no, that really won't be nec--" "I'm calling the mayor. TOMORROW!" And then he dramatically turned on his heel and walked away, justifiably knocking into other passersby. Hey, maybe I'll even get a heated letter to the editor! But honestly, I don't care whether or not I'm allowed to play on snowbanks.
8. Speaking of calling the mayor, I'm going to do so as well. Or rather, I'm going to write a letter. My visitors/patrons last night included David, the ever-so-friendly parking enforcement man (see "Changed My Opinion," 12/31/12, #5). He's one of my all-time favorite "people in my neighborhood" employees with whom I interact while busking, and he delivered the news to me that he is no longer employed on the parking enforcement team. I told him, sincerely yet jokingly, that that occupation is for mean people, and he's not nearly mean enough. He corrected me, hinting that he had been "quitted," as he said, for being TOO mean. I offered to write a letter to the mayor, and he didn't argue. If anyone can write a reference for this guy citing achievement of both profession and character, it's me.
9. A young man stopped and asked, "Do you chew gum?" What kind of question is that? At first I thought it was a euphemism. But I said yes, and he put a piece in my box, explaining that it's a "really nice fruity kind." Oh, awesome! It wasn't the only candy I received last night: as expected, I also got a little bag of candy hearts. I also got a home-made Valentine featuring a message along the lines of "Chris Rock loves you." Hey, that's all I need!
10. There was a chatter. Maybe the worst one yet. He was a standard slightly-over-the-hill man smoking a cigarette and demanding my attention. I'm okay with quick breaks and conversations, but when people are walking by, I don't need to hear about all the opinions and quotes you got for your car, and how you finally got the best deal. Etc. This one was particularly bad, since he actually said, "I should let you get back to work" a few times mid-story. But didn't. He also proclaimed himself a social butterfly, mentioning examples of his people skills. "I could be cooped up at home, but I prefer to come into town, hear people like you play, and be a social butterfly." Hear people...what? Play? Well, I haven't played for about 18 minutes... You'd really think people would get the clue when I start just actually playing, or looking at the clock. I suppose I have to stay positive and take it as a compliment, that I'm easy to talk to. This man, as many others have done, confided his former struggle with addiction** to me, so I suppose my Psychology degree can be put to use when I offer words of encouragement.
**I originally wrote "addition." I think I need a break from elementary school subbing!
11. Many people commented on the fact that there were two accordions out that night. We were the only two buskers, and there was just a road separating us. Luckily Tim and I are friends, and our acts are very different. We're not in competition. Afterwards, we had compared the comments we got, always including the classics of "Ooooooh, you've got competition!" and "You should play together!" Why would we possibly do a thing like that?
After I packed up I checked in with Tim, and we both spoke to a young man who also has a Bachelor's in Psych. He writes a blog, and his Valentine's Day project was to go on a bar crawl and assess the numbers of singles vs. couples. Interesting; I'd like to read it since I'm so into breaking apart the psychology of holidays (sounded sarcastic, isn't).
Before I sign off and go to bed, in preparation for playing at the Winter Market tomorrow, I will confirm my mother's worst fears by sneaking in the final professional inquiry I was asked by a "passerby," delivered from the passengers' seat of a moving car speeding behind me: "How much?" Oy. Happy Valentine's Day!
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