Well done, thou good and faithful jazzbos...

Well I used to smile when I was a pup,
sailing down the Nile in a china cup
with the recipe for a lovely day
sticking out of my back pocket...

But it wasn't always such a pretty signt,
'cause we used to fight like cats and dogs
till we made it up in the ballroom...

"Ballroom Dancing"
by Paul McCartney

Another gig has come and gone - this one was a County Historical Society dinner dance. Not much moolah, but what does one expect these days?

This gig (and really, all gigs in general) give me the "fly on the wall" view that I enjoy. Granted, gigs like this can make me cranky.

Why?

The concept of the guests treating us like "the help". I mean, we are there to work, and our occupation just happens to be performing for them. However, the concept of "decorum" doesn't exactly exist with audience members.

One example: at the beginning of the evening, I happened to encounter one of the Historical Society officers/board members/high muckety-mucks.

She was an elderly woman with a helper dog at her side because she was hard of hearing. However, irony does prevail - she was complaining about the music levels being bothersome to her. (Her hearing aids were squealing and she was worried about the dog being upset).

So, since I'm the gracious Sudiegirl that I am when I mill about to check sound levels, meet guests, etc., I informed our band manager of it and adjusted the volume levels the best I could.

The lady wasn't happy, and apparently she lives by the principle of "If I'm not happy, you won't be either." While Len (our fearless music director who was recovering from a nasty summer cold) was conducting a number, she (and her leader dog) marched up to this man to complain about the music's volume. One of the alto sax players swears that she flew in on a broom, but I think that's a bit harsh. I think Len's ears turned as red as my hair.

Now keep in mind the following:

A. We as a band were seated fairly close to the air conditioner and generators placed outside. Therefore, it sounded like a construction site in the middle of New York City without us even adding anything to it. You can bet that the musicians had trouble hearing each other. (One was amazed that he could barely hear ME - and I'm still not sure if I should take it as a compliment.)

B. In addition to our music and the cacophony of machines outside, you also have clinking sounds of silver on china, dinner conversations, wait staff rushing around, sterno buffet heaters ablaze, etc.

Therefore, the only solution the music director and the band manager found that seemed to please her was turning the stage left speaker around to face the band. Logical, no?

Well, we thought so. However, toward the last stretch of the evening, another officer came up to tell me that the people on his side of the room (which also was the deaf dog lady's side) couldn't hear me. I thought, "Gee, that's odd..." and told him I'd check on it.

Guess why they couldn't hear me on her side of the room?

Yep - you got it.

**Author's note: due to a request from Edward H., I was asked to discuss how the band was affected by the background noise. Well, I won't hesitate to say we were challenged. Len frantically directed us, and even though some pieces were potential train wrecks, we managed to make it through. As usual, a few smart-ass comments were made about the trumpets being too loud, but that pissed off a few people. I hope the trumpet jokes stop - they are getting a bit old. Anyway, in true STBB fashion, we came through all right. Now, back to our regularly scheduled entry.)

In case you haven't figured it out from other posts, the way I entertain myself with down time is watching people dance and examining the outfits of the female guests. I form the same opinions regarding both every time. Ya wanna hear 'em? (Sure you do - or at least humor me since you're here...)

1. With regard to clothing and general carriage of self? Money doesn't buy good taste, or even help you rent it.

Examples? Sure!

****Rich, barely senior citizen females that have very dark tans are not human.

They are strips of beef jerky that happen to shop at Lord and Taylor. I kid you not. I saw these two women who were very darkly tanned, and they looked like leather.

One was wearing this halter-style dress that had some kind of op-art black and white motif on it, and every time she took a turn on the dance floor I was reminded of this "mood lamp" I had in junior high that made me dizzy when I turned it on. Furthermore, the dress was NOT flattering, as it was cut on the bias and accentuated her hips in a way that was less than sightly as I almost put my water glass on one of them. I'll bet she paid retail for it too.

The other woman had on a black and pink '50's style cocktail dress, and it seemed like she was trying to channel Audrey Hepburn. The dress was pretty cute, but it just seemed a little young for her. Thank goodness she was at least wearing it in her size as opposed to eight sizes too small for her.

They both were fairly trim, with rapidly declining muscle tone, so they had the floppy soggy old lady arm thing going on. (And before anyone remarks that I sound cruel, I just want to say this: you can't tell me that the same things aren't going through their heads. You know why? Because I'm a woman, I use the women's room, and that's where you hear the cattiest remarks known in history being made. Amen.)

****Next example: the Amazon Ballroom Dancer Chick.

First of all, this woman was so zaftig (that's German for "stacked"), she even got MY attention. She was probably close to six feet tall in her heels. She had the style of pants that are called "car wash pants" because they have the sheer crepe material sewed on in strips so they look pretty when you twirl. (Picture at right should show you what I mean.) She was wearing really nice pumps with the pants that didn't stick out and looked comfortable.

So far, so good.

But she had a fitted camisole top on, and that would have been fine if she didn't have love handles poking out of it. Maybe I'm just too modest for this world, but it's one thing to show some cleavage and another thing to show tummy that's not intended to be shown. I think it's because I am insecure about it myself that I am aggravated about it in others...typical Sudiegirl behavior. Oh well...still, it was not a good look as far as I am concerned.

However, our bari sax player really wanted to give her a thorough examination because he could have sworn from across the room that she had bronchitis due to the extensive swelling in her chest.

Too bad he's a urologist - I reminded him of this too.

We'll talk more about Amazon Ballroom Dancer Chick in a moment - I'm moving on to the next topic:

2. With regard to dancing: white people really need to relax. However, don't get so drunk that you are too relaxed and you almost pass out on top of the band vocalist.

I really feel by now that I am an authority on this, between watching people dance and dancing my own bad self. Therefore, I will list some theories and principles I have acquired over the last several years.

*****First Principle: even if you've studied ballroom dancing at Arthur Murray or your local community college, it's OK to smile. You ARE supposed to be having fun. Hell, even Fred Astaire smiled at Ginger. (and YES, I'm referring to Amazon Ballroom Dancer Chick and her equally tall boyfriend. They looked like they were trying to solve complex equations instead of dancing and being with someone they like.)

*****Sudiegirl theory #1: I truly believe that when a polka is played and white people come out on the dance floor, all the black people in Heaven come out to watch. They all giggle their butts off at us too, and really, we do deserve it. Last night was probably the highlight of their heavenly existence - we almost had three couples crash into each other. Here's a theory within a theory...the polka is the white race's punishment for what they did to the black race. It ranks right up there with country and disco line dancing.

*****Second Principle: If you're not a good dancer in the first place, you will not be a better dancer by adding any of these things:

A. Extra steps

(I nicknamed one of the dancers "The Twelve-Step Program" for just this reason.)

B. Extra Beer/Wine

*****Sudiegirl Theory #2: Apparently in the Baltimore, MD area there is a belief that if a woman head-butts a man in his solar-plexus, this will make both of them better dancers. However, this is only true if she sticks her right foot out after she headbutts him. (Don't ask me - I just observe these things. Call me "Jane Goodall".)

Overall, even though there was not much cash involved, it was a good time for exercising my anthropology skills. And really, wasn't it worth it?

Sudiegirl