—by Susan Koskelin
The booking was a three-hour gig for the opening of a new library. Since I began harp lessons in my middle years, I had been performing only a couple of years. I had developed a step-by-step system for transporting the harp and all of its accoutrements:
- Pack my harp in its case
- Load all accessories into the car (via the house door to the garage)
- Exit through the front door with the harp and lock the door
- Cart the harp across the front porch to the garage door
- Open the back of the van and load the harp
Packing up for the gig, all was going well until step five. I realized I had not opened the garage door. Panic ensued: keys in purse, purse already in car, locked in the garage. Front door locked, back door locked.
Plan B: Quickly run to the neighbors’ house, the keepers of my spare key. No answer. Info about job in folder in car. Can’t call them.
Plan C: Last resort—break window to get into the house.
My elderly neighbor across the street was in his yard and had seen me acting a bit crazy (actually, I think he heard me screaming obscenities). He was on his way over to help. Unfortunately, he shuffle-walked at a painfully slow pace. I yelled to him, “Jim, I need a hammer!” He was only halfway across the street at this point. He said, “Okay, I’ll get one,” and turned around. I realized by the time Jim got back with the hammer, the gig could be over.
I started scouting around for anything that could do the job. I found a brick, broke the window, opened it, climbed through it, opened the garage door, loaded the harp, and was off. Jim was still nowhere in sight, presumably still looking for that hammer.
The job was 45 minutes away. Despite my adventure, I arrived on time. There was one vehicle in the parking lot…a construction truck. Red flag. Something was not quite right. I went inside and found two workmen doing last-minute touch-up painting. I asked what time the open house was supposed to start. They said it starts at 1:00 p.m. tomorrow.
All I could do was laugh as I drove home to my broken window and Jim waiting in my yard with a hammer. •
