All I ever really needed to know I learned on high school band tour

Greetings from Arizona!


Where adventure begins . . . and never ends!


Adventure I

So much for the Bellagio! After a fabulous clinic at UNLV it became apparent that perhaps taking 60 teenagers to The Strip on a Friday night during the NBA All-Star weekend was not such a great idea. Of course some of us had come to that conclusion long before others, but eventually a consensus was reached and plans were changed to Plan B, which involved getting away from the melee as quickly as possible .

Only somehow long after the switch to plan B, the driving directions for Plan A remained stuck in the driver of my vehicle’s head and we managed to spend 2 1/2 hours driving bumper to bumper from UNLV to the nearest freeway exit, which happened to be on the other side of The Strip anyway. We saw just about everything except for the fountains.

And George and Brad and company.

Lessons I

Sometimes the harder you try to avoid something the faster it sucks you in.
And never make weekend vacation plans for any city hosting the All-Star game, especially not Vegas.
Vegas is the grand illusion.


Adventure II

The next day found us in Phoenix. Here I was surprised by two sweet serendipities: One, a little southwest mex joint called qdobas makes mighty fine food. If you are ever in Phoenix you must go there to eat their food. Two, Rembrandt was in town. Deep within my heart, an urgent cry for flakiness was heard and I learned that if you generally prove yourself to be a responsible and reliable person sometimes it’s OK to bale on high-school band students. Especially if Rembrandt is involved. Besides, I thought it was a great teaching moment as I practically skipped out of the parking lot of their scheduled concert and promised to be back soon. Kids should witness adults getting excited--and therefore sometimes even flakey--over unexpected pleasures such as good art.

Lessons II

Trying local fare can be a good thing.
Always leave room in your schedule for spontaneity.
Especially when Rembrandt is involved.Obviously this was not part of the exhibit, but it was located across the street and so aptly depicts how happy I was to blow the concert venue for the MOA


Adventure III

Later that day we arrived in Tucson, where I was given the charge to take a student to the local University Medical Center, which, I learned, is the only trauma center in the entire region. Having spent more than a few nights in the ER either as patient or family, I was prepared to camp out there for some time.

But what I did not expect when I arrived at 8:40pm was that all three waiting rooms would be full and we would begin our long evening's journey into morning waiting outside.

What I did not expect was that when we finally saw a doctor--a little after midnight--she would only be a resident, which meant we would have to wait another hour or so before the attending physician would come in and repeat the exact same examination again. In its entirety.

What I did not expect was for her to tell me it would be another hour and a half or more for the strep test—and that was assuming the lab "didn’t lose the orders or the swab." “I prefer you do the rapid strep test,” I said politely. “This is the rapid strep test,” she said.

Fortunately after Nurse Ratched left and Glenda the Good Nurse arrived with the prescription, Glenda also was so kind as to give me directions to the nearest pharmacy to which I and my charge would be safest to travel well after 2am in this strange border town.

Feeling rather proud of myself for having safely carried out my chaperone duties above and beyond the call, I pulled into the hotel parking lot looking forward to at least a few hours of much needed rest.

Lessons III

If one has to be sick, one should never choose to be sick on a Saturday night in Tucson.
Sometimes the term “rapid strep test” can be a misnomer.
For every Nurse Ratched, there exists a Glenda the Good Nurse. And that's a good thing!


Adventure IV

Is merely a continuation of Adventure III, which I thought was over. But it had only just begun . . .

We arrive at the hotel and I realize that one, I have no way to get into my room and two, I have no place to park the Yukon and the attached percussion trailer. The night clerk informs me he cannot give me new room keys and that there are two buildings and I should be able to park by the outer building and wake up my roommate to let me in. I drive out to the outer building only to realize that one, I would need a keycard just to get in the building and two, this is a very seedy hotel. While I consider my options I observe several vehicles drive up to various spots outside the hotel and watch their respective occupants engage in suspicious behavior. I also watch as a man who may or may not be a guest comes out of the hotel and props the door open as several other men who very clearly are not guests start going in and out of the hotel and walking up to the various cars and also engaging in suspicious behavior.

At this point I go back to inform the clerk about the action outside his hotel (yes, it’s well after 3:00am on a Saturday night) and firmly request keycards for my room, as well as an escort to the second building. He kindly obliges and lets us in and then locks the building door behind us and asks us to call him when we get into our rooms safely. My young and still sick friend S., who is now also completely exhausted, cannot get into her room. Her roommates will not wake up. So we go to my room and call the clerk, who agrees to meet us at S.’s room. Before we leave, I learn from my roommate that a creepy drunk guy has been stalking our girls—even after he checked out of the hotel—and that our group has been in lockdown for the night. On our way to S.’s room to meet the clerk, I notice that a door down the long and deserted hallway has been left ajar. This creeps me out big time given what I have learned about this hotel and the fact the rooms have been open to the public for the entire night (not to mention a few scary movies I may have watched in my youth). So after we finally get S. safely locked down I ask the clerk to accompany me to my room. He assures me he noticed and closed the open door, but as we approach my room we both notice that now the door of the room right next to my room is slightly open. He knocks, then turns on the light, and opens the door. Fortunately there are no dangers lurking behind door number two, but it is clear that mischief has been afoot. The place is trashed—chairs thrown across the room and on the bed, bottles and pizza boxes strewn around. And it’s obvious no paying guest did this.

The clerk locks the door and I finally get into my room by about 3:45. Only the room is filthy. The tub faucet leaks loudly and echoes throughout the room. There are hair follicles from the previous guests lurking in the shower (this is a huge pet peeve of mine). The bathroom door won’t shut and the bed is seriously mushy. I am still cold after sitting under the frigid ER AC for a decade, and my pajamas are in the car and the heater doesn't work. I sleep horribly for about two and a half hours and then I wake up still pretty wired over events of the last 10 hours and worried about the security of our kids, their stuff and our vehicles. Not to mention that by now the outside door right next to my room is banging closed every two minutes.

I decided I needed to repack the car and finally—because there is now daylight--locate all the things I needed but went without the night before. I also feel an urgent need to get in the car and scream "Holy Freakin' Crap!" a few times and to find my stuff so I can brush my teeth and brave the shower long enough to wash the grime of Tucson off of my skin. This task requires digging through several dozen two-litre bottles of soda which are stacked miles high in the back and is impossible to complete without numerous incidents of said full bottles crashing down on my hands and on my feet.

During the 15 minutes I am repacking the car, I set off the car alarm twice because more of last night’s activities appear to be continuing and I know I am not safe. I lock myself in the car, but each time the coast is clear and I exit the car the alarm goes off. After I am done I realize that the door to the building has once again been propped open (I later learn that the sliding glass doors in some of the students’ bedrooms are also unsecured). Eventually I get my shower and we check out of the hotel, I with the general manager’s phone number safely tucked away in my pocket so I can give him a piece of my mind.

Lesson IV

It’s never a good thing when your find yourself in the desolate halls of a seedy hotel--for which you paid good money--and you realize the best defense you've got against the ills of society is a 21-year-old male stranger.
Yelling out loud in a locked car can be very therapuetic.


Adventure V

By early this morning I was thankful that at least a couple of our destinations seemed to turn out OK. Not to mention much more appealing than some of our previous accomodations.Montezuma's Castle

Today was our day to go to the Grand Canyon. Despite having been previously warned by cjane that it’s just a hole in the ground and my constant nightmares that some kid who thinks he is invincible—preferably not mine—will end up over the edge, I’m actually getting excited!

My excitement dwindles, however as we approach the park.
It's clear that while on a clear day you can see forever, during a floggy blizzard you can't see squat!
Ain't that grand?
So the students are relegated to taking pictures of themselves

What a disappointment! All that way and the big hole is full of fog! I decided to have a good time anyway and so I went shopping for some killer souvenirs for my kids. And for me. And some cactus taffy. And I take pictures for some nice Canadian tourists and try to kill a little time, hoping for a miracle. . .








. . . and finally we are rewarded when the mists of cloud and fog start to thin and part. We can actually see the other side.



And the bottom.

In spite of the frigid cold we all had a great time. I think we enjoyed it more because initally we knew we weren't going to get to see it.

And, thankfully, although I nearly had a panic attack when I realized that all the adults had left me behind and responsible for a bunch of kids who thought it would be so fun to lean over the rail or walk much too close to the unfenced edge, we didn’t lose a soul.

Lesson V:

Sometimes when you expect to get nothing you are more satisfied with what little you do get than you would've been if you had gotten the whole thing.