LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER–YOU’LL THANK ME LATER

In 5^th grade, I used to go to great lengths to avoid attending piano lessons. Hiding out underneath my mom’s forest green minivan, dipping the thermometer in hot water or eating raw chicken (the latter both to induce a fever of course) were regular activities on Wednesday afternoons. It wasn’t so much that I was radically opposed to learning to read music or sitting down to practice, but rather my teacher’s unbearable breath and routine smoking habits. Regardless of the reason, I never wanted to go. Piano lessons were the ‘arm-pit’ of my week–and for a solid fourteen months, my outlook remained unchanged.

When my mom finally conceded and agreed to discontinue my lessons, I rejoiced wholeheartedly. For a few years after, quitting lessons was one of my prouder moments. But high school came and then college soon followed. With college and going away, my outlook was no longer the same. Over the past eight years, I had picked up both the drums and guitar but even still, I was nothing more than a novice when it came to a that beautiful baby grand.

At The Piano Lounge there is a piano that doubles as the focal point of the room. Before anyone has even had their first drink, the young chap who begins to play is already 50 points cooler than any other person in the bar–including the bartenders. After a couple of drinks, he is now every attendee’s newest best friend. After a few bottles of wine (The Lounge’s trademark drink), he is now giving Brad Pitt a striking “run for his money”. If you haven’t taken the hint yet, women loves pianos, but even more so they love piano players. As the pianist (Until now, the word never sounded so suave) plays request after request, the fixation continues to grow.

Just as it is not even next to a reasonable notion to believe that anyone is following this blog–let alone a naïve fifth grader hell bent on finding ways to ditch his weekly lessons–I still have a message to pass on to all you pianists-in-training. A decent voice and a knack for the piano goes a long way and is certainly worth your teacher’s stinking breath and lungful of cancer. Weathering the storm will give you a leg up on just about anyone else looking to find that special someone. Of course, it doesn’t hurt to take your talents public and play for a roomful of alcohol-induced college students either.

That said, I’m about to give the only advice given throughout this entire blog that a responsible mother might deem as either a saving or educational thought–

Stay in school kids. And more importantly, keep at that old piano. You can thank your moms and I in a decade or so.