The show must go on

It’s the end of flu season, and virus stops for no man- or performer. Odds are, in a group of 90-odd people that work together in close proximity, someone has got something, and that something, gotten from someone, is also being given to someone. Yet hardly do you see anyone faint, cough, sneeze, spit (except for brass players, and that’s “condensation”) or spew. Run offstage? It must be life-threatening.

Musicians are the masters of hiding the symptoms of illness while on stage. We all have our tricks for getting through a performance- special vitamin/antihistamine/ibuprofen/cough-suppressant cocktails. Our former Maestro Christoph Eschenbach used to hand out packets of Emergen-C (a fizzy Vitamin C powder) and drink Windex (pronounced VIN-dex, and smelling suspiciously like Gatorade, but that’s what he claimed he drank!). And that was before the guy did it on “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” Once I disguised my hacking coughs during a Mozart Symphony performance by only coughing when the timpani played. Luckily, my phlegm was tuned in “E.”

Of course, the worst is the Tour Virus. You can imagine how quickly that goes around, bolstered by the closed air systems of busses and airplanes. In recent years we’ve had the “Chicken Pox” Tour (Singapore), the “Really Nasty Strep” Tour (Europe), or the “Fever and Cough That Went On and On” Tour (last trip to Carnegie). For the poor Tour Doctor that accompanies us thinking to get a little sightseeing in, at times it’s more a triage in the field situation than a vacation. And the rest of us go around trying not to breathe the contaminated air too deeply, wondering who Patient Zero is.

In a scenario usually only present in an Orchestra Personnel Manager’s worst nightmare, the last two weeks here at home shall now be known as the “Horrible Stomach Virus That Decimated Subscription Concerts #11 and 12 With A Special Emphasis On Viola Players.” This highly contagious and quick spreading little bug made quick and gory victims of the lower string section, moving in an orderly geographical fashion. We should have had a large red cross painted on the Second Viola chair, perhaps with the words “Lord Have Mercy Upon Us.” Everyone who sat in that chair (and it was a different person every night, as people kept getting sick and people had to move up to fill it) got “it.” Without getting into graphic detail, a stomach virus is probably the one virus that cannot be borne on stage. Especially not for pieces of music that last longer than 20 minutes. So for the last two weeks colleagues, their numbers reduced by up to 30%, valiantly struggled to redistribute notes so all parts were covered, and played louder. Because through thick or thin (ugh, literally!!) cold or hot (chills/fever) rain (see last week’s blog), sleet, or snow, the show must go on!