Some of you may remember that last year my choir sang "The Messiah" with other choirs from the region and an English conductor/professional choir/orchestra. During the rehearsals we got to know -- at least by sight -- the members of the other choirs. A certain blonde soprano from another choir (el Orfeon) who sat behind us drove me and my choir's sopranos absolutely nuts...for all my singer-readers, she was one of those sopranos. Screaming at the top of her shrieky voice to be heard over everyone else, not supporting at all, overshooting every.single.note so that not only was she yelling, she was extremely sharp. On top of that she was a huge brown-noser (how's that for good English vocabulary...imagine explaining that to a group of students. I've done it.), agreeing out loud when the conductor made comments, raising her hand every.time.he asked a rhetorical question, laughing loudly at his sort-of-funny jokes. Ugh. It pisses me off to remember it. Anyway, she had a nice-looking, brown-haired friend who sat silently by and seemed pretty steamrolled by blondie. They were the only sopranos in that choir under the age of, say, 50, much like me, Maria, and Cristina in my choir.
One day I was waiting for the bus to go to rehearsal, getting more and more anxious about being late. I saw nice-looking-brown-haired girl waiting at the same bus stop. She got on a bus I wasn't sure would take us to the rehearsal space, but since I was already late and I figured she knew better than I did, I followed her on. As the bus took a hard right through the tunnel over to the other side of the city, I saw a look of panic cross her face, mirroring my own. Nodding to the score in her hand I asked her if she was going to the rehearsal, and she said yes, but that we weren't going the right way, and she didn't know what to do. We got off at the next stop and ran as fast as we could back through the tunnel to the bus stop we'd started at, laughing the whole way, stopping in the middle to catch our breath. I was thrilled to have a new sort-of-friend. When we finally got on the right bus, we sat together and chatted. I found out she was from Santander, had a husband, and a few other general facts. She was very sweet and friendly, and she complimented my Spanish, which of course made me like her even more. We got to rehearsal, late, and snuck in to our respective seats. From then on we smiled at each other but never got another chance to talk. Partly because she was always with her obnoxious friend.
Fast forward to my new job at the energy consulting company. When I started in November I made a point of taking up my workmates on their invitations to go "tomar un cafe" at noon every day. I felt shy but knew that it would be the best way to meet people and feel included in the office. Little by little I got to know the guys (there was one other girl but she left soon after I started and never came out for coffee), and they got to know me. One day I mentioned to Eduardo, the very blonde non-Spanish looking head engineer (yeah, they're all super smart and technical-like, and I ask such questions as "What do you mean the electricity goes in a circuit?" Ok, maybe not that bad, but almost.) that I sang in a choir. He said his wife did too, and said she sang soprano in el Orfeon. I was horrified, thinking annoying blondie was his wife. As disappointment set in -- bummer, and I thought I liked this guy. If I find out he is married to her, well, there goes that -- I casually asked if his wife was blonde. He said no, that she was brunette. "I know her!" I said excitedly, trying to hide my relief. I told him about how I'd seen her score and followed her on the bus, and how nice she was. "Ohhh!" he said. "You're the American girl she met when she took the wrong bus that day! Yes, she is very nice, but never follow her directions anywhere!"
One day I was waiting for the bus to go to rehearsal, getting more and more anxious about being late. I saw nice-looking-brown-haired girl waiting at the same bus stop. She got on a bus I wasn't sure would take us to the rehearsal space, but since I was already late and I figured she knew better than I did, I followed her on. As the bus took a hard right through the tunnel over to the other side of the city, I saw a look of panic cross her face, mirroring my own. Nodding to the score in her hand I asked her if she was going to the rehearsal, and she said yes, but that we weren't going the right way, and she didn't know what to do. We got off at the next stop and ran as fast as we could back through the tunnel to the bus stop we'd started at, laughing the whole way, stopping in the middle to catch our breath. I was thrilled to have a new sort-of-friend. When we finally got on the right bus, we sat together and chatted. I found out she was from Santander, had a husband, and a few other general facts. She was very sweet and friendly, and she complimented my Spanish, which of course made me like her even more. We got to rehearsal, late, and snuck in to our respective seats. From then on we smiled at each other but never got another chance to talk. Partly because she was always with her obnoxious friend.
Fast forward to my new job at the energy consulting company. When I started in November I made a point of taking up my workmates on their invitations to go "tomar un cafe" at noon every day. I felt shy but knew that it would be the best way to meet people and feel included in the office. Little by little I got to know the guys (there was one other girl but she left soon after I started and never came out for coffee), and they got to know me. One day I mentioned to Eduardo, the very blonde non-Spanish looking head engineer (yeah, they're all super smart and technical-like, and I ask such questions as "What do you mean the electricity goes in a circuit?" Ok, maybe not that bad, but almost.) that I sang in a choir. He said his wife did too, and said she sang soprano in el Orfeon. I was horrified, thinking annoying blondie was his wife. As disappointment set in -- bummer, and I thought I liked this guy. If I find out he is married to her, well, there goes that -- I casually asked if his wife was blonde. He said no, that she was brunette. "I know her!" I said excitedly, trying to hide my relief. I told him about how I'd seen her score and followed her on the bus, and how nice she was. "Ohhh!" he said. "You're the American girl she met when she took the wrong bus that day! Yes, she is very nice, but never follow her directions anywhere!"
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