I was called in to play for two corporate events at the Detroit Opera House this week.
And of course, what the prima donna in me reveled in the most was having my own dressing room and parking spot. Also, having bottles of mineral water served to me on silver trays, already opened, didn’t hurt.
I like being fussed over.
So I thought I would be really let down when I returned to my regular bench, at my regular gigs, where I get my own water, park my own car and fight for table space to eat my dinner on set breaks in already overcrowded back-of-house offices.
But I didn’t miss all the special attention.
Instead, I missed the feeling of the pianos that I am used to playing on.
Like old familiar friends, each one was comforting and reassuring to the touch.
Not all the things I am tasked to do come with the applause and show-stopping arias.
It’s nice when it happens. Even thought the most important work usually happens behind the scenes, without even so much as an overture.