The band I play in has a modest number of outdoor summer concerts, usually on town greens or parks. Fun when it's nice out, less so when it's windy (stands toppling, music flying -- inconvenient for us, though no doubt brilliant entertainment for the audience).
Somehow we snuck in another concert venue, semi-last minute (ie only three weeks notice).
The date of that concert?
My birthday of course!
Geez.
I mean, I don't make a big deal about my birthday. This year it falls on a weekday, so I'll be going to work and doing normal stuff.
But making someone play Sousa marches and old show tunes on their birthday (to say nothing of having to wear that summer band outfit of ours)?
That's cold, man. Just ... cold.
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