I'm sitting at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport waiting to fly to the first gig of my Figarofest, Lafayette, Louisiana. I'm typing this on my Blackberry, so if I manage to get this posted, it will be a small miracle.
I had to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and 20 month-old daughter this morning. It is always a gut-wrenchingly sad moment to leave your loved ones (as if I need to tell you this). It makes me question this lifestyle every time I do it. Consequently, it makes me irritable for the rest of my travel day. It's never fun to go through the belt/shoes/laptop interpretive dance at the security checkpoint, or to say a last minute hail mary, hoping your luggage will come in below weight, but it's even worse when you have left your home and family and entered the unknown.
That's the rub, though, isn't it? If you want the joy (and it is) of singing for a living, you have to take the lifestyle along with it.
On the upside of this day is the anticipation. New cast, new maestro, new town, new chance to sing this glorious score. It comes at a cost, to be sure, but most things of true value do.
So it's a Summit Maibock at the airport bar and a toast to St. Paul, Lafayette, and Mr. Mozart who is bringing us together. And to my Rikki and Nikki, whom I will carry with me in my heart.