Those weren't my pants

Well, tonight's gig with the orchestra went fabulously. All the wrong notes were played by people other than me, and I got some great feedback about how the saxophone blended with the rest of the ensemble. So, all you frustrated classical saxopohonists out there, know that a blow was struck for equality tonight.

Of course, the night wouldn't have been complete without something going disatrously wrong, and sure enough, the third worst thing that could have happened to me before a gig happened. It all went down when I was changing into my tuxedo about fifteen minutes before the downbeat. I grabbed my clothes, and as I started buttoning up my shirt, I discovered that my tuxedo pants - a very important piece of any musician's concert attire, you must agree - were nowhere to be found. I couldn't believe it. My first time soloing with a full symphony orchestra, and I left my stinkin' pants at home.
I looked at my watch. Fourteen minutes until the concert starts. My solo was in the first piece, and I didn't even have enough time to run to Wal-mart. Heck, I barely had enough time to make it to my car.

So I just started laughing, because, really, when you forget your pants at a gig where you're responsible for representing your department, else can you do?

Luckily, Greg came to my rescue. Greg, who is pretty close to twice my size, who also happened to be wearing black pants that day. I thanked him profusely and climbed into his cavernous pantalones, cinched up his belt and tucked it into the belt loops (it wrapped around me almost twice), and went on my merry way, all the while hoping that they wouldn't make me stand up to play.

Fortunately, no one really noticed, since they sat me in hte back in between the second clarinet and the first horn. Still, it was a fun night. And I can now tell people about that one time when I had to play an orchestra gig without my pants.