“Do you know Pink Martini?” My future husband asked me this question in 2002. It was our first date and we were exploring musical commonalities—a critical topic area for determining the likelihood of a second date.
“I LOVE Pink Martini,” I gushed, my legs and feet buried in the sleeves of the fleece that he’d retrieved from his car. It was a cool night in August, and we were having dinner on the patio of a restaurant in Bellingham, Washington—the ‘half-way’ point between his Seattle home and my Canadian residence. “I just saw them in concert earlier this year, but would love to see them again,” I said, coyly alluding to a potential future outing.
A Pink Martini show is an experience. A many-member ensemble based in Portland, they stand out for the fantastic vocals of lead singer China Forbes, and their magnificent arrangements of both original and classic pieces.
I first experienced them in Vancouver, and they opened with Ravel’s Bolero. It soared to such fantastic heights that I almost stopped breathing. (Bolero also has special meaning to me because British figure skaters Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean skated to Olympic gold to it in Sarajevo in 1984. That is your figure skating geek fact for the day).
When I found myself at a non-profit conference in Portland in 2005 and randomly heard that the band would be taking the stage at the Crystal Ballroom that evening, I almost stopped breathing again.
“What? When? How do I get there? Are there still tickets?” I yelled at the messenger. She quickly searched on her laptop for the phone number for ticket information.
One call and we had our answer: sold out. Well, that wasn’t going to stop me! There must be scalpers in Portland, I thought. Probably on bicycles, but around just the same.
Dilemma number two: I was to have dinner with my work team that evening, an outing that was being hosted by our Executive Director. Skipping out would be a total CLM (career-limiting move).
As we dined, I sat on the edge of my chair, ready to bolt. “Ah, yes, well, that was a great conference. Just a great conference. Learned a lot. And a lovely dinner tonight, thank you. Dessert? Why, no. I’m just going to be on my way now.” And bolt I did. Show time was less than thirty minutes away and I was on the other side of downtown. In my little kitten heels with semi-matching handbag, I ran like the wind.
Breathless, I happened upon the one and only scalper just around the corner from the front door. “I need one ticket! Just one! Thirty-five dollars? Okay, excellent.” Everything was coming together. Then, “Cash. Cash?! Shit shit shit shit shit. I don’t have any cash. Where’s the closest ATM?!”
The scalper looked a little afraid of me, and with good reason. I was steps away from seeing a beloved band, and he held what was quite possibly the last ticket for the show. I wasn’t quite foaming at the mouth, but almost.
With no ATM directions forthcoming, I ran to the door and immediately accosted the impeccably-dressed gentleman who was holding it open. “Love Pink Martini. Didn’t know they were playing. Scalper has one ticket. Have no cash. Need ATM. Where’s ATM? Help!” It all fell out as one long word. Sweat was beading on my forehead.
The gentleman paused for a moment, and then gently propelled me over to the box office window. He went back inside the entrance and spoke to the ticket-window staff from the other side of the glass, then motioned for me to stick my arm inside the window opening. My wrist was stamped, and I was in the door. The gentleman, it turned out, was Pink Martini band member Timothy Nishimoto.
I refrained from hugging him as I probably would have squeezed the last inch of air from his musical lungs, instead relying on my gushing excitement to convey my appreciation (and I also mailed him a card afterward). The show itself was amazing, I grew taller with every note, and I was a happy, happy girl.
These dear memories all came back to me just two weeks ago as I was sitting in Seattle’s Baguette Box and eating a drunken chicken sandwich. Lo and behold, what came on the radio? Pink Martini’s version of Bolero. My heart expanded three sizes. The piece immediately evoked the artistic perfection of Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean in that once-in-a-lifetime performance, it made me remember a very good first date and how you just know when it’s totally right, and it made me think of that time in Portland when a random act of kindness made for a truly memorable event. It’s hard to chew when you’re smiling, I discovered.
Ken Kailing says
I like it; it works. And I like Pink Martini too, have them on my i-pod in fact.
Laura Zera says
Yay! And given that, we should totally double-date! 🙂
dianewordsmith says
They’ll be in Seattle on Dec. 3!
Laura Zera says
I know! But it’s a Christmas-themed show and that’s just not my bag…!
Kendall says
I like it; it works. Never heard of Pink Martini but am about to look them up. (don’t have a date (yet) for doubling but can we still be friends??
Laura Zera says
Ha! Absolutely. And I think that you would dig Pink Martini.
Autum says
Great post, Laura! Loved it. 🙂
Laura Zera says
Thanks, Autum! And I fixed the typo/deleted your other comment, cause I have the power! And yes, it has corrupted me. *Sigh*
Autum says
Excellent! Thank you. 🙂
Jo VonBargen says
Oh, what a wonderful post, Laura!! You drew me in and had me holding my breath every inch of the way! What a fabulous story teller you are! A fine read, indeed.
Laura Zera says
Thank you so much, Jo!