"The Band Plays for a Bunch of Drug Dealers"
February 4^th, 2009: Downtown Aquarium – Houston

     This evening's venue takes place at the Downtown Aquarium. Located near Houston's theater district, the restaurant/theme park is a monument to combining commerce with marine life conservation. Housed in the (redeveloped) historical Central Waterworks Building , the park spans over six acres. On the outside guests may ride the 100 foot Ferris wheel  , view endangered white tigers and swamp alligators up close (well...not too close), and take a voyage on a kiddie train that travels through an acrylic tunnel to see sharks swimming overhead. And speaking of sharks,  there are plenty of boardwalk-style games devised to ensnare the wallets unsuspecting patrons. The dinning complex is equally as impressive: Running through the middle of the three-level restaurant is a 500,000 gallon aquarium. Supplied with 200 species of aquatic life from around the globe, it's the largest cylindrical tank in North America. George has brought his family to the park several times, and is excited about playing in the ballroom level tonight. He is eager to get started, though he has no idea of who will be in attendance this evening.

     Since this gig was booked through a production company that the band works for from time to time, the guys don't know for whom they're actually performing for tonight. For all they know, they're playing for a Klan rally or Al-Qaeda or worse! As it would turn out, the venue is actually a dinner for the sales personnel of the Swiss pharmaceutical corporation, Roche. The 100+ year-old, multi-billion dollar drug company is active in over 150 countries, employs around 80,000 people, and leads the industry in oncology and in vitro diagnostics. They're sort of the Microsoft of drugs. Anyone who has ever taken Valium, Xolair, or even Tamiflu, got it from Roche (and it was probably distributed through one of the sales people soon to arrive here tonight).

     George arrives first to the site. The ballroom is spectacular and spacious . And as one would expect, every inch of the place is adorned with oceanic items. Even the overhead lights resemble creatures from the deep . Despite the cavernous expanse of space in this ballroom, the band's area is sectioned off to a very tiny spot near the podium. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens with a certain amount of regularity: The trio is usually tucked into an area that would have made Harry Houdini claustrophobic and expected to exuberantly play without knocking over the other member's equipment. While the guys have actually become quite good at dodging each other's instruments, they still long for a space larger than a 5 x 6 square. Upon seeing the allotted 'micro bandstand' George contemplates if he should change the name of the group to the 'GEORGE POE FIVE' in hopes of acquiring more room at future gigs. Or maybe just a simple disclaimer printed on the band's promotional materials; A line  like 'Band Pictured Not Actual Size' beneath the photo of the trio on the promo sheet.

     George finishes setting up most of his equipment as Lee and Matthew arrive. In the midst of unwrapping cords, and setting up speakers, George decides to have a mini-band meeting (pun not intended). "Hey, as we were getting the tax stuff together, I discovered that we nearly played 70 gigs last year (68 to be exact)." "Wow, that's a lot when you consider we all still work 40+ hours a week at our day jobs." George nods and continues "So our average gig is three and a half hours; if you take 3.5 (hrs) times 70 (events), that equals 245 hours or 10 days of non-stop playing!" "Where do you come up with this stuff?" "I dunno - I just thought that was cool. We're almost as busy as the band Orange Is In." At the sound of this, a smile takes over Matthew's face (though he tries to ignore George's sarcasm). "I read it only takes 30-40 hours of flight time with an instructor to get a license from the FAA to make you a pilot." "We've got 6 times the amount of hours, so what does that make us?" All three take turns raising eyebrows and exchanging shrugs.

     The first person that the guys encounter that's not part of the wait staff introduces herself as Juliana. She mentions that she is one of the evening's coordinators, and is employed by Roche. She admits that she is not the band's point person, "That will be Marilyn, but I can answer some brief questions". Matthew (as the delegate of the group) begins to acquire as many facts about the company and tonight's event as quickly and unnoticeably as he can. Lee and George noticed Matthew's ability to put strangers at ease years ago - he is, after all, a chaplain. They both appointed him to be the department head of the band's 'SCHMOOZE DIVISION'. During the pre-event moments, Lee and George offer the obligatory handshakes and name exchange, and then quickly fade to the background for Matthew to lay on the charm. The thing is, his actions and gestures are sincere, as he genuinely strives to get to know the host or hostess. His refined social skills/tactics flow like Sodium Pentothal through the veins of his interviewee subjects. George has nicknamed this process 'The Extraction Period'; a pivotal time before a show in which Matthew will gather much-needed intel on the audience the band will be working for. Matthew continues with the inquest, while suppressing the urge to tell Juliana that her company's name, Roche, is actually French for 'Boulder'. Gratefully, she is quickly whisked away to some pressing matter that needs her attention on the 2nd floor of the restaurant.  Lee and George finish setting up .  

     As Matthew relays what he has learned to Lee and George, the guys are accosted by a fast-walking woman in a power (silver) business suit. The woman does not offer a greeting or identify herself to them. She simply taps her French nails on the edge of the tip jar on the piano and orders "No." Then aims her finger at the business card holder and demands "Take those away too. We hired you to play for us tonight, not promote yourselves to others. Everyone here tonight will be from out-of-town, so you won't get any business from them anyway." She turns as if her high-heeled shoes are attached to a swivel, and gallops off to prevent some other 'vendor uprising'.

     This abrasive exchange sets off a chain reaction within the band. At first the guys are stunned that Matthew didn't even get a chance to lay on the charm with her. Then reflex kicks in:  "What was the deal with that suit?" "What do you mean? How it was all silvery looking?"   "Yeah. I think that silver power suit was more insulting than she was." "Well, you know what they say...'Every crowd has a silver lining.' The laughter returns. "Who was that anyway? Do you think that was that Marilyn?" asks Matthew. George responds "I don't know if she's in charge or not, but I'm doing what she says because...I'm a little afraid of her." Matthew strains his neck in time to see the silver suit pass by one of the ballroom's open doorways. "Yeah, I bet that was Marilyn. It's a good thing she didn't see what we did in the hall to their entry logo!" "Yeah, you got that right." gulps George.

     After a quick sound check, the band disperses to various parts of the facility. Each are in awe of the marine life gathered in this place . Lee heads out to the second story balcony that's eye-level with the Ferris wheel. He's surprised by a flurry of activity as thousands of birds zigzag through the sky around the structure .  He thinks to himself that they must be drawn to the smell of fish around this place. The entire area looks like an outtake from Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. Meanwhile, on the ground level George and Matthew end up together in the gift shop. After a quick perusal of items, George settles for a shark mask for his 5-year old son .

     A few minutes later, the two reunite with Lee in the ballroom. George tosses the mask to Lee and says "Hey put this on. They said we're supposed to wear these tonight while we play." Even though Lee does not actually believe this, he puts it on for a few minutes because he thinks it's kinda cool.   

     It's 6:30 - The trio begins playing. The ballroom is empty except for dozens of strategically placed wait staff. Matthew motions one of them over and learns that the evening's guests are on a scavenger hunt elsewhere in the building. So the band plays on for another 15 minutes or so 'sans-audience'. The salespeople begin to trickle in to the ballroom. A few minutes later the placed is filled to capacity. The ballroom roars with the sound of Roche employees laughing, calling out to one another, and trying to out do each other's antidotes. The band is fueled by the surge of kinetic energy, and the music mimics the electricity of the room. The trio sounds great. Even the silver suit lady acknowledges this as she whizzes past the bandstand. George avoids eye contact, but she offers an appreciative nod to Lee. Lee bobs his head back to her in rhythm to receive the compliment.

     Throughout the evening, the guys enjoy watching the salesmen come up to the podium area to enter the door prize drawing. Each confidentially approach with scavenger hunt card in hand, they smugly announce to the Juliana's crew that "THIS is the winning card".  The ladies are remarkably polite as they act as if it's the first time they ever heard this line tonight. Matthew and George find it curiously amusing it is that these people literally tell this same 'joke' over and over not knowing that this stale line was used just 5 minutes before they 'thought it up'.

     It's now 8:30 - the trio takes a break. As is his custom, George heads to the foyer to phone his house to sing lullabies to his two children. Matthew and Lee head out to the front deck (the deck away from all of those crazy birds). The coolness of the fresh air feels good to the skin. On the street level, they see the caravan of the six Trailways buses that brought the party here tonight.   Lee and Matthew discuss the new musical direction that the trio is going to add to the repertoire - an Acid Jazz set of original tunes. As a joke, George has nicknamed this new movement 'Acid Reflux Jazz' in an effort to keep the three of them from thinking too highly of themselves. He has said "Whatever this exploration ends up being, it should still be fun for the listener. Not like some of the self-indulgent, high-minded stuff reserved for jazz elitists."

     After the break, the trio begins to play and sing non-instrumental tunes. They perform as many ocean themed songs as they can come up with like BEYOND THE SEA, SEA OF LOVE, etc. Eventually they resort to songs that mention anything aquatic like MAC THE KNIFE which starts out "Oh the SHARK bites with his teeth dear..." This silliness continues right up until the door prize drawings are announced. There's a lull as the presenters attempt to gather the attention of the room. It's at this point that Matthew and George wish they had taken all of the digital cameras from the table. "Hey George, we should have opened those up during the break and taken pictures of ourselves." "Oh that would've been great! Can you image someone getting prints made a month from now a they see a picture of us?"    "Or even better, we could have taken a picture of one of our business cards!"   "Yeah-In your face Marilyn!" "Man! I wish we would have thought to do that earlier."           

     As the winners of the door prizes approach the podium, the guys realize that the only thing worse than how some of the salesmen obnoxiously claimed to have a winning ticket is the fact that some of them DID actually have a winning ticket! It's a seven and half minute parade of "See I told ya so, Sweetie." aimed at Juliana's workers. George whispers to Matthew "Those ladies do not get paid enough to put up with these clowns."

     After the 'ceremony', the trio returns to playing. By 9:00 most of the evening's guest are back aboard the buses rolling towards the hotel. A few stragglers remain at various tables scattered around the ballroom. The room is noticeably looser and relaxed. Other than the sporadic laughter erupting from these remaining guests (around 30-40 in all) the trio's music is punctuated by the chingeling of cutlery being scooped on to plates by the busboys. The music mellows. Matthew requests George to play IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE  MORNING  (one of Matthew's favorites). George's voice swells to a crescendo and then falls to a whisper as he sings "...that's the time you miss her, the time you miss her most - of all."

     George motions to Lee to turn off the sound system, and the three begin to pack. George notes that this is the earliest that the guys have ever finished playing - ever. It's only 9:30 PM. After a few minutes of wrapping chords, the boys are invited by the staff to help themselves to the food. George heads over to the 8^1/2 foot palm tree made of fruit he's being eying all evening  . Lee makes a path for the oversized shrimp table. Matthew dives into the sushi table. He calls out to George who's returned with a plate piled high with pineapples, strawberries, and watermelon. "Hey George, they have sushi over here!" "I see that, no thanks." "I thought you liked sushi?" "I do but it's just kinda weird for me with all these fish around here." "What do you mean? The fish can't tell."

     You can always tell how well the band performed by how absurd the after-gig conversations are. The better the gig - the more inane the pack up chatter is. The trio must feel it went really well considering that George and Matthew have entangled themselves a ridiculous debate about eating raw fish in front of other fish. The discussion ends with statements comparing eating sushi in front of sea life with Mcdonald's Mayor McCheese selling out his burger brethren. "He's a hamburger-man selling hamburgers! Who in 'burger-ville'  elected this guy? And what were his campaign promises?" Changing the topic, Matthew observes that "I always felt that McCheese  and his friend Grimace were kinda Sid and Marty Croft rip-offs anyway."      

     As the night draws to a close, Matthew and George continue their tradition of licking all of the ice sculptures in the ballroom as Lee looks on.       "I can't believe we get paid to do this." Lee corrects them "Well technically you don't get paid to do that." George tries to persuade Lee "You should join us, Lee." But he refuses "How about if I just wear the shark mask again?"

     Despite the slowness of the service elevator that's probably powered by sea turtles, the guys still mange to get their vehicles loaded in record time. The spray from the building's man-made waterfall delivers a thin layer of mist on their cars. Everything is quiet now. Just as the busyness has subsided by  the rustling Roche employees, the once squawking birds are all dormant now. Lee suspects the birds to be positioned out of sight in various perches of the Ferris Wheel, but a wary gaze upward reveals nothing. The conversation slows between the three. Matthew tells a Woody Allen joke, as Lee and George robotically sort through the keys in their hands. A few more jokes later, the keys are replaced by handshakes, acknowledging a job well done. The three troubadours aim their vehicles northward, and roll out of town to their next adventure.

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