Big and Small

Big, Small. Big, Small.
     My mind chewed on that one as I lay in bed, the sound of music and laughing outside my door drifting off just in time for sunrise, and I caught a couple winks before construction began outside. I had a big night, and I was in for a small amount of sleep. Earplugs, I thought, next time remember earplugs.
     I was at a big gathering centered around a small instrument.
     I was at the 2003 Ukulele Expo in Providence, Rhode island, which oddly enough, is the smallest state.
    The trip here had been fairly uneventful. I got up Monday morning at 4:00am. My flight did not leave until 6:45, so I figured I was OK. The airline recommended that I get there at least 30 minutes before departure, which I did with time to spare. I checked my bags , which was surprisingly quick, then wandered off to find my way to the gate. Then came security. The line was big. Each time I turned a corner, it stretched on to the next. I finally got to the end, where a helpfully security person was chanting,"45 minutes to security check point" I looked at the big clock on the wall, then at my ticket . The big clock said 6:00am. My ticket said 6:40am. "Crap!" I muttered. It became a chant. "Crap, crap, crap, rap, crap, crap..."
   The line moved a few small steps and stopped, moved and stopped, finally making it to the check point. I was lucky to get through with out a body cavity search, and was putting my shoes back on as they announced the final boarding call for my flight. I began chanting again, in rhythm with my jogging,"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap..." I reached the gate as they were closing the door.
We landed in Minneapolis for a plane change, and took to the air again. The flight was smooth. I ordered a couple double Rum and Cokes and sat back to write. There is something different about drinking on an airplane. I don't know if it is the altitude or that the bottles look so small that I always order extra, but I always get hammered with relatively little effort, and also sober up quickly and smoothly. So there I was, I cruising along, jotting down some notes about the trip when I glanced out of the window and saw that we were now over the Ocean. No big deal, except that this portion of flight was from Minneapolis to Rhode Island, and last time I looked at a globe, there was no ocean between the two. Then I realized that I was not looking at the Ocean, I was looking at a big lake.
Lake Michigan, by my quick figuring.
     If you have never seen the great lakes, then you have no idea what I was seeing. I grew up in California, and biggest land locked body of water I ever saw was Lake Tahoe. but now here looking and seeing no land anywhere made me feel lost. For a moment I felt very small. Sure this awe may have been partially Rum inspired, but still, it was one big lake, and I was impressed.

We arrived in Rhode Island, and were hit with humidity that only someone who is from there or been there can really understand. It was like being draped with a hot wet blanket. We caught a cab to the college, and maybe it was the "I am a tourist" tee shirt I was wearing, but our $20 cab ride took a "short cut" and ended up costing over $40. But, we were there, and other than getting out of my now wet clothes, and getting the Ukuleles unpacked, not much else mattered. I got my room key and settled in. I had a roommate, but they had not arrived yet. The room was bleak, but the price was right, and I was fairly sure I would only be in it while sleeping, so that was fine. I took a shower and put on fresh clothes, but was immediately soaked again upon stepping outside. I decided right there that this weekend was going to be spent in the air conditioned sanctuary of the college facilities.

My first stop was the screening of "Rock that Uke" (which I enjoyed thoroughly) and then it was time to see who was who. There were a lot of familiar faces, the Santa Cruz Ukulele scene being well represented, and a lot of familiar names. But I was meeting many people face to face for the first time, though I had done business with some or corresponded online. On the other hand, I was not hard to spot, Being at the time the only one wearing a fez. It amused me that the first thing most people said was "you're a lot taller than I imagined". I would just smile. True, I am a pretty big guy, and with my fez I top out at about 6"6' or so. I am sometimes startled at my own reflection when I see just how small a Ukulele looks while I am playing it. I guess that is what they were seeing now. But all around were small Ukes and Big smiles, and it was hours before it hit me that all I had to eat since 4:00 am this morning was a bagel.

A group of us went and had a fantastic late night Italian meal, and returned just in time to catch the last of the official Ukulele jam session. After security kicked us out, we made our way back to the dorms where people began to gather in the common room. First beer arrived, then a big bottle of Tequila and a bowl of limes. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the release of all the tensions of travel and anticipation. We drank big and played Ukulele into the small hours of the night. inhibitions were lost and beginners and pros strummed side by side. Solos were taken, lyrics butchered, songs made up, and by the time I stumbled back to my room at 3:30 a new percussion instrument had been created using pistachio shells in the body of a Uke. This was my kind of party.

I caught a couple hours of sleep, and then headed over to the main hall for breakfast. The room was buzzing with activity, and dominated by an actual working 20 foot tall Ukulele. People were having a great time posing in front of it, dwarfed by it size. Saturday was spent showing my Ukuleles, selling stickers and CD's, and again meeting old friends for the first time. It was also a chance to see, and better yet play, some of the finest Ukes available. Not only was it a treat to see them in person, but even more so to meet the amazing Luthiers who had built them. The day was over too fast, and after the Saturday night dinner banquet it was time for the concert.
Ahh the concert.
What do you get when it is about 90 degrees, 90 percent humidity, and you put a couple hundred people in a room with no air conditioning? In this case you got a treat. A top notch group of performers that kept your toes tapping and seemed to be over too soon. Then it was back to the dorms for more beer, more playing, more singing, screaming and mayhem and moonshine.
And it was evening, and it was morning, on the second day.

    I woke up still slightly buzzed and looked at my watch
    7:00
    Outside was a dull gray. it could be 7:00 am or PM, I really could not tell.

   My roommate was still passed out, so I figured it was safe to assume it was morning, and laid back down. I had barely closed my eyes when I heard voices in the hall, and suddenly it was 9:00. I got up and headed over to the main hall for breakfast. I had left all my gear there the night before, so set up was easy. I drank a couple gallons of coffee, and started putting out my Ukuleles. People straggled in, wearing crooked smiles and sunglasses, exhausted and happy. Heaping plates with bagels and pastries, drinking coffee and OJ, bracing for the day. It was not over yet. Sunday was much like Saturday. People went to classes and lectures, wandered and shopped, or sat in small groups, swapping tales from the night before. Today was another open Mic, and many people took advantage of the mass distraction to slip away quietly. None of us wanted to say goodbye.

    The event officially ended at 5:00 PM, but a hand full of us were staying over, and we met in the dorms again that night for one more go around. One by one a small group gathered, bringing food and beer, and refusing to really let it end. I was doing pretty well for having had almost no sleep in three days, but suddenly the couch was became very comfortable. I blinked and the song changed abruptly, and I knew that as much as I hated to leave, it was time to go to bed. I thanked my fellow players and said a quick good bye, and went back to my room.

     I got ready for bed and turned off the light, and for the first time saw that the last inhabitants had covered the ceiling with a glow in the dark constellation. My small cell of a room became the big outdoors, and I fell asleep under the stars.
And it was evening, and it was morning, on the third day

    I awoke excitedly to the sound of singing and Ukuleles playing, but as I sat up it faded, and I realized it was a waking dream. A ghost sound left behind by the shear amount of music that had inhabited the halls over the last few days. It felt a little sad.

     I gathered my things and went to wait for a cab. I went to the common room, now empty, and sat down. The air was thick with the still lingering smell of stale beer, limes and cigarette smoke.
It was oddly comforting.
I got out my Ukulele and began strumming , but after the last three days, it sounded very small.
I said a last silent good-bye to those still sleeping, and those who were already gone, and began my trip home.

    This trip showed me the Great lakes, the worlds biggest Ukulele, and even the mighty Mississippi. But these all seem small against the backdrop of friendship and talent I had the honor of enjoying over the last three days.
I will end this end this by borrowing something I learned watching the film,
"Rock That Uke":

      Neil Armstrong, upon returning from his trip to the moon, had to spend time in quarantine. According to photographs he spent some of that time playing the ukulele. Here was a man who had just traveled farther than any other human being, had tasted the vastness of space, and after that incredibly big journey could still find solace in an instrument so small as the Ukulele.

I am going to go play now.