Cross-Eyed (Dec 2001)

As many of you know, I am a member of the NYU All-University Gospel Choir, an organization that I wholeheartedly love. Last Thursday, we gave our winter concert at a local church, and the concert itself went very well. Let me take you back, however, to approximately an hour before the concert began...

When I say that everything was going wrong, I underexaggerate. EVERYTHING was going wrong. Our special guest artists had not arrived, we had lost our CD player, the security guards could not get the door to the chapel open, and, above all, the back room that we normally use to relax and to hold our belongings before the concert was taken away from us. We are a 50-member choir. None of us are quiet people. The only space that we had to wait (for approximately an hour and a half, mind you) was in a small, cramped hallway that led to the chapel where we were going to perform. Imagine the chaos.

After approximately a half hour of waiting, we finally were moved to a new hallway that was just as small and cramped. However, it DID have a few wooden beams that were stacked on top of each other so that we could sit down. I plopped down onto one of the beams and breathed a sigh of relief. Only to hear the words "LOOK OUT!!!!!" being bellowed from approximately ten sopranos.

Allow me to define the term "Gospel Choir Soprano." This is not any old soprano. This is not the nice old grandmotherly soprano from your church choir back home. This is not the cute little child sopranos that make you cry with the innocence of their voices. This is not even the operatic soprano with the Viking hat on that graces the Met. This is a banshee. These ladies have voices that could blow the quills off a porcupine. When they yell, "LOOK OUT!!!!," you LOOK. No questions asked. No time to even THINK about doing anything differently.

So I looked. And was promptly smacked square in the face with an 8-foot-tall wooden cross.

Yes. That's right. A large... wooden... CROSS.

Before I reflect on the irony of this statement, allow me to explain to you what had actually occurred. Apparantly, as I was sitting down, there was some jostling going on in the tenor section and a small tenor named Mariano was caught amidst the commotion. In the jostling, he somehow managed to stumble into the cross, which was precariously perched against the wall right next to the place where we were all sitting. The cross began to tip and the sopranos began to yelp.

The result? Near unconsciousness and utter chaos. I can now proudly tell you what seeing stars feels like. It's actually not all that cool. Also not cool is being unable to feel your face and having to put your hands up to it every few seconds to check and see if you were bleeding. Once my vision returned and the numbness subsided, I becaome quite indignant that I was struck by a CROSS while about to sing the gospel. I also became convinced that I would have black eyes the next morning, which was actually sort of a cool possibility. Much to my dismay, I was only left with a big knot above my eyebrows and a great deal of lost pride, which could probably be found scattered about in that infamous hallway.

However, the next day I was informed by a knowledgable individual that anyone who suffers even the mildest of concussions (which I probably had managed to accomplish) will have the same brain scan for a week as an individual who is in a coma. Learn something new every day, I tell you... that definitely made up for the lack of black eyes.

'Till next time!