Can I borrow your pants?

I can’t believe how funny things are sometimes. I got to the country club the other night to sing, and to my surprise, we were singing in a barn behind the country club. My sax player pulled up, and as he got nearer and nearer, I got a little worried that he had some sort of impulse to drive the van directly into the structure. The guys and I pointed out to him that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea and he applied his foot to the brake in the nick of time. It was dark, and dirt shimmered like the reflection from a disco ball through the beacon of light that shot through the cracks in the wall as it lit up with a thick layer of smoke from the barbeque. I thought, “hmm…I need to change my shoes.”… I immediately placed my Pradas back into their dust bag, threw on a pair of strappy sandals and messed my hair up a little bit. I figured that it would be better if I could blend in a little…yeah…I like to pretend that I blend in…don’t get me wrong… I know that messy hair and black sandals likely wasn’t going to do it in this place, but it was a nice try! – especially since I had just witnessed the men in camouflage shorts basting the chicken with a large mop. Note to self: Don’t eat the chicken.

People started arriving in their jeans and sweatshirts. The guys in the band, who were wearing tuxedos, seemed to be a little more out of sorts than I was. This seemed strange to me too since I am not exactly a “barn, smoke, dirt” kind of girl. There was low phi music playing through bullhorns that were strapped to the ceiling of the open pavilion. I wasn’t exactly a huge fan of the bullhorn. It tended to remind me of gym class as a kid when my asthma and runny nose kept me from being picked for the kickball team until there was no one left for the popular team leaders to pick. They’d look around behind me, as though they hadn’t figured out that every other person had been chosen and all that was left was the snotty headed, flute player who was never going to make it to first base, if she even managed to line her foot up with the ball as the pitcher whipped it at her head at home plate. The gym teacher would activate the bullhorn (right next to my head…um…thanks!), “kkkhd! OKAY! Calia is on this team. Let’s start!”…Oh well…It turned out all okay though…those kickball players are kinda fat now and I became a personal trainer and aerobics instructor. Hah! Whose cardiovascular system is crankin’ now people?… “kkkhd! Race you to home!”…oops…sorry…I’m getting petty again!

So here we were out in the filming of Deliverance. I could hear the dueling banjos playing in my head as I sang “I Will Survive!” I don’t know why I get so distracted during that song. Either I’ve sung it for so many years that it’s on autopilot in my head…or perhaps it was the 400 pound girl in her 40’s who was blatantly hitting on my singer in her “skinny jeans” and sweater as she strutted around in front of him?…yep…that was it.

Time flew by and the sun went down which topped off the temperature to a balmy 40 degrees. I got out my watch so I’d know exactly what time I caught pneumonia. I leaned over to my singer and asked, as I often do, “Can I borrow your pants?” We giggled as usual at the visual we always get of what he would look like standing there with no pants…and what I would look like wearing a 6 foot 4 inch tall man’s pants…and how they really wouldn’t go with my black spaghetti strapped dress and high heeled shoes. All in all - Fun for everyone!