The Piano

Some of my first memories include sitting down at my antique white grand piano with my Grandmother, whose hair matched the color of the keys.  She would hopelessly try to get me to sight read while I insisted on playing by ear.  My grandfather would sit at the accompanying drums trying to follow the musical whims of a 7 year old who liked to bang on the keys to make the low notes as loud as possible.

That piano had traveled with my family from Florida all the way to Hawaii as a gift for me.  I enjoyed it and played it through high school.  My mother made the decision to drag it all the way back to Florida up to the 4th floor of her Delray apartment.  It then journeyed to two different Hobe Sound houses and then back to the 4th floor of the Delray apartment where I am sure it will stay because moving it again might actually kill my mom.

I hadn't considered buying another piano until my second year of law school when Justin and I moved into "the ponce."  We casually looked at a church yard sale for used furniture (this was before bed bugs... no soft surfaces!) when there it was standing right next to the book shelves - MY piano.  The price tag was only $150, a small price to pay for...WAH.  Justin hit a key and it sounded horrible.  We looked at each other.  We hit a few more keys and some sounded better than others.  I didn't care, I knew this piano was going to be mine and it seemed completely logical.  I paid an extra $75 to have 8 high school boys carry it across the street for me.

The piano in its most recent home

I liked it because it was OLD - I thought it had a lot of character and history.  The original price of the piano was embossed on its side - $500!

Someone even marked some dates in pencil! 4-30-32 and 5-4-32

It tuned up perfectly and Justin and I both got to learn and play many songs through law school.  We gave each other concerts where he would play my favorite, the girl with the flaxen hair, and I would play the Super Mario Brothers theme song and, of course, In the Mood.

After 4 great years, I had to leave Atlanta behind, but I wasn't about to leave my piano.  I may have left it with Justin, but anticipating the separation, he had purchased a super fancy digital piano and didn't need mine anymore.

There were lots of things I didn't anticipate about moving this piano to New York.  In law school, I could play the piano anytime because I was home during the day and we didn't have close enough neighbors to bother.  In New York, the piano is right up against a neighbor's wall and I'm only home at times highly disturbing to play loud music.  The wood also did not love the temperature changes.  If it was tuned in warm weather, it immediately went out of tune as it got cold.  I began playing less and less.

Finally, Mike bought me a (super sweet) digital piano (with earphones for playing anytime).  

I knew that was the beginning of saying goodbye to my piano.

Finally, I decided to just do it and put the piano up on a piano adoption website.  I got about 20 people looking for a piano donation!  After accidentally promising it to two people (yikes!) I gave it to the guy who actually came to the apartment to look at it.  (Then shed a few tears for the other girl).

The guy didn't come to pick it up - he sent two very large Russian men to remove the piano from my apartment.  At 9am after a late night out, I sleepily answered the door and let the men in.  "Shaina, Sit," they kept telling me as I cleared space to move the piano.  "The other guy is paying you," I kept insisting while being forced to sit on my own couch.  I finally called the other guy on speaker phone and everything was sorted out.  

The piano left quickly - I didn't have time to cry and say goodbye like I normally do with inanimate objects.  I just smiled and know that it's going to a good home.  So long, Piano.  Thanks for carrying a tune.  :)

Trapped

One of my worst nightmares came true and I survived.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am terrified of being trapped.  It's certainly not a rational fear but I have completely lost it on a few occasions.  I think the first time I ever had this feeling was when I was young and thought it was a good idea to climb into a cardboard box.  My siblings closed it and wouldn't let me out and it was one of the scariest feelings in the world.  This issue runs so deep with me that when I die, I do NOT want to be buried... you know... just in case.

I'm off topic.

Friday I was flying down to Florida to visit my mom for her 65th birthday.  I was so excited to see her and I left work in a terrific mood!  The bus driver even gave me a student discount without my even asking for one!  There was no traffic and the security line was short.  Life was good...

I approached the gate agent and asked for them to assign me a good seat.  He had an exit row at no extra charge!  In addition, he told me that the flight was oversold and they needed 9 volunteers to take a later flight in exchange for $400.  I toyed with the idea but decided that it was supposed to rain later and I really wanted to see my mom ASAP so I declined.

I boarded the plane and texted my mom telling her that I was on my way!  The plane had just filled up when CRASH - lightning struck really close by and the sky opened up.  The captain came on and said that the ground crew had to run inside but only had 5 more minutes of preparation once the rain stopped.

The flight attendant then came on and gave me my final chance.  Apparently the plane had a weight and balance issue (seriously, who heard of this on a commercial flight?  I was on an MD-88) and they had to take another passenger off the plane.  This time they were offering $500 to go on a later flight.  It did bother me that the giant aircraft would only fly after potentially removing the whopping 150 lbs of me and my suitcase put together.

I strongly considered the deal this time and quickly called my most reliable phone a friend - Justin - who happens to be an expert on both weather and air travel.  After considering the options, we decided since I was already on the plane I should just stay put.  He saw weather scattered all over the east coast but it was clearing up in New York.  I figured I'd stay.

The passengers were all getting wary.  The rain finally had cleared up and we anxiously awaited pushing back from the gate.  We finally pulled away and there was an audible sigh and cheer from the plane.  Our joy lasted only minutes before the captain came on to tell us about the long line of planes ahead of us.

"Sorry I don't have better news, folks, but I am estimating with this many planes in front of us, it'll be about an hour."  My heart sank.  We had already been sitting on the plane for 1.5 hours and now we had another hour to wait!  I pulled out my laptop and began typing up my notes from earlier in the day.  I kept myself busy with work and sporadic texting even though the cell service was not good.  Finally it got close to the hour mark and the captain came back on for an update.

"Sorry, folks, I know it's not raining but there's some weather all around us and no one can take off or land." UGH - that was frustrating to hear.  I figured it'd be another few minutes for a storm to pass and then we must be at the front of the line since we've waited an hour already... "Then, when they start letting us go again, there are about twenty five airplanes ahead of us."  Twenty-five?!  How is that even possible when we've been waiting for so long!  At 2 minutes per plane, that's almost another hour we have to wait after the storm passes.  I took some deep breaths and tried to mentally prepare myself for another hour.  That's when the captain crushed my spirits, "And, folks, we have to save some gas so I'm gonna go ahead and just turn the engines off,"  okay, fine, "and sorry about this but that means the AC is gonna go off too."  WHAT?  It's been 95 degrees out and I have already been stuck in this metal death tube for 2.5 hours and now you're turning the air off?  I'll survive by looking out the window to the real world.  "So, it might get hot in here, if you wouldn't mind, folks, please lower your window shades to keep it cool."

I'm going to die.


I jumped from my seat to run to the bathroom while frantically trying to call my mom.  When she finally returns my call 20 minutes later, I am a puddle - sitting on the floor of a hot and stuffy airplane while pretending to focus on my note transcription.  "I didn't have my phone because I thought you already took off!"  ouch.  I yelled some nasty things at her while she sweetly tried to give me advice that I wasn't listening to.  My heart-rate was up and so were most passengers, making the plane feel even more crowded.  I kept my head down and focused.

After the next hour (3.5 hours in) the captain came back on with some good news.  We were going to move to the other side of the runway!  Some of the other planes had to go back to the gate so we were going to be moving up in the line!  The engines and lights blazed into life and I immediately shot up and stuck my head in the air vent!  Sweet cold air!  I felt like a fish in oxygen deprived water, sucking at the bubbles that come from the vent.

Of course, it was a brief moment of relief because as soon as we got to the other side the engines were cut again and we were returned to darkness.  I crumpled back to the floor as the flight attendants started passing out food.  I greedily began eating packages of pretzels - one after the other until ten empty packages stained the surrounding area with salt.  I hadn't looked up in about 15 minutes.  When I did, I began to realize that I was not alone in my feelings.  A small girl cried quietly in the corner, a young man had his head in his hands as he listened to something on his beats by Dr. Dre headphones, a woman dressed in leopard print yelled at the flight attendants about the passenger bill of rights, a middle-aged... WAIT!  The passenger bill of rights!  They can't DO this to me!


I started my texting frenzy again.  "Look up the passenger bill of rights!  What does it say!!!!!"  I knew the airlines couldn't keep passengers sitting on the runway, but for how many hours?  Three?  Four?  Seven?!  I really wasn't sure!  Now the whole plane was chanting!  One of the flight attendants addressed us over the speaker, "I'm sorry - none of us have ever encountered anything with the passenger bill of rights.  We don't want to tell you any wrong information."  I got a text saying it was three hours.  We were clearly approaching that mark.

Everyone was extremely agitated when the captain came on again, "Sorry again, folks, it looks like we're going to have to go back to the gate."  There was an audible boo.  BOO?  My inner self was jumping up and down cheering!  We get to go back to the gate!  I'm not gonna die!  Is that a tear?  Keep it together, Shaina!

We arrived back at the gate.  "What a smooth landing!" someone joked.  There were more murmurs that maybe we would go back to the gate but they wouldn't actually let us off.  Fortunately, that wasn't true.  They did not give us any information and I hurried off the plane.  I looked around and realized that not only were we at a different gate, but we were in a different terminal!  I guess what did I expect?  We were out on that plane for FOUR AND A HALF hours.

The entire airport was in chaos.  They were announcing canceled flights left and right.  The board was a disaster of delays and cancels.  I looked at someone in a long customer service line, "What are we supposed to do now?" I practically yelled at him.  "I'm sorry," he looked at me sympathetically, "I don't even know what flight you were on."  RIGHT.  I am not the only one in this mess.  I felt the tears that I was holding back surfacing.  I darted for the door.

In the fresh air the tears began streaming down.  I saw a taxi cab and ran for it.  "PLEASE TAKE ME HOME!"  I pleaded.  "I'm sorry, honey," the driver said with wide eyes, "I'll get in trouble!  Go to the taxi line."  I stumbled to the taxi line and the tears began to subside but I was sniffling.

It was a short ride home.  Julia looked at me confused as we arrived home.  "Aren't you going to Florida?"  Here come the tears again, "NOOOOO!"  She gives me a hug as I begin babbling again.  Then she rushes to make me a drink.  A strong drink.  Yes, I think.  This is what I need!  Julia is having a party that is about to start and I decide I am going to turn this night around and have the best night ever!  I begin my frantic texting again and make tentative plans all around the city.  Julia's friends have all shown up and so have more drinks in my hand.

I am perched on the floor, listening to their stories when I apparently fall asleep.  I am slightly nudged and stand up and stumble to my bed, which is cluttered with piles of clothes, bags, and a ukulele.  Julia brings me some water and I push everything over and promptly fall asleep again in all my clothes with my knees bent in the air.  I don't wake up 'til morning.