THE FOLLOWING WAS WRITTEN DURING OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER 2005,
FOUR YEARS AFTER THE ATTACK ON THE WORLD TRADE CENTER.
From Project Manager To Piano Man
Fate Plays a Hand
Over the weeks and months that followed, New York - lower Manhattan in particular - gradually returned to "normal." Except for security-sensitive locations like the stock exchange, the barricades, cones, and ropes were removed. The rancid odor disappeared, the dust cleared, and after 100 long days, the smoke finally stopped rising from Ground Zero.
Still, what made it continually difficult for those of us who worked in lower Manhattan, is that many of us were forced to look at the gaping hole of Ground Zero on a daily basis. The company I worked for had two buildings, one located south of Ground Zero, the other located north of it. Whenever I had to traverse from one building to the other, I had little choice but to walk by the massive grave site. Also located in between my company's office buildings was Trinity Episcopal Church. While I don't call myself a "religious" man, I am indeed intensely spiritual with a deep faith in and a very private, personal relationship with God. Many a day I would duck into Trinity Church during my lunch hour, or on my way back to my office after a meeting at our second building, just for a few minutes of solace. Outside the church, the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple roared on, as if seemingly in defiance of the 9/11 madmen who tried so desperately to break our spirit. But inside the church was an instant and unexpected escape from the Manhattan mayhem, a safe and comforting retreat that offered the perfect environment for a few moments of quiet reflection, meditation and prayer.
About a year later, in September 2002, I found myself ducking into Trinity Church for one of my lunchtime respites. My heart was particularly heavy this day. The previous twelve months had been so difficult. The malaise from the events of 9/11 still weighed down on the city and the country. I grew unhappy with my job and tired of living in New York.
As I sat quietly meditating in the church, I felt an overwhelming sense that big changes were looming in my life. But it wasn't clear to me what those changes would be. I prayed for guidance, and I remember distinctly saying to God, "I know something has to change. I don't know what it is, but I know if I place it in your hands, you'll lead me to the right place."
The next morning my boss called me into his office to tell me that the company was eliminating two project manager positions, and the two with least seniority were the unlucky two. I was one of them. Remembering my prayer from the day before, I actually let out a giggle when my boss delivered the bad news. "You seem to be taking this well," he said, puzzled. As he droned on about severance pay and company policies, I half-listened, somehow comforted in knowing this unexpected and seemingly random turn of events was actually fate playing a hand.
Cocktail Party Wisdom
At the time this all transpired, I was supplementing my income by moonlighting one or twice a week as a piano bar entertainer at a local restaurant. I had regularly sought these gigs ever since my first paying gig during my junior year in college, when I played piano at a four-star restaurant down the road from my campus. After moving to Washington, DC in 1993 to pursue my master's degree and begin a career in politics, I continued to play and sing at private parties to help pay the bills, and a few years later, I was the featured entertainer at regular weekly gigs at two different bars. I had always dreamed of making music a full-time living, but I felt I didn't have enough music education, training, or experience to simply shift gears from project manager to piano man. So I went on pursuing my "day job," even though the only time I was truly happy was when I was singing and playing piano for an audience.
I saw the loss of my project management job as a window of opportunity to truly make some positive changes in my life. I could have simply looked for another job in the same field, but I felt that was not what I was meant to do. It was time to think outside the box. I recalled a cocktail party I'd attended at a friend's apartment in New York City sometime in 2000, I think. There was a beautiful grand piano in the apartment, but it was covered up for most of the evening. As the cocktails flowed, one of the other guests removed the cover and started playing the piano. He sang while he played familiar sing-a-long tunes, and everyone seemed to enjoy the impromptu performance. After he finished, friends who knew of my abilities asked me to take a turn at the keys. I sat down at the piano and played a few numbers.
Afterward I struck up a conversation with Mark, the other piano player, a guy about my age who lived in Chicago. He explained that he was a piano bar entertainer by trade, splitting his time seasonally between a piano bar in Chicago during the warmer months, and cruise ships during the cold months. "You could do cruise ships," he said to me, "based on what I just heard you do here." The idea was something I'd never considered, but it wasn't anything I could realistically entertain at that time, since I had just moved to New York from Washington, DC and had just started a new job. Still, I took the information Mark shared with me and tucked it away in my mind. I forgot all about it… until two years later.
Fast forward to September 2002 and my state of misery. Soon to be unemployed. Ready for change. I remembered that conversation with Mark two years prior, and thought this might be the perfect time to look into becoming a piano bar entertainer on a cruise ship. I didn't know the first thing about cruise ship employment, so I went online and bought every book I could on the subject. I didn't even remember Mark's name at the time, nor did I have any contact information for him. So I called the host of that cocktail party, gave him a vague description of "the other piano player, a guy from Chicago." That was enough for the host to know who I was referring to, and he gave me Mark's contact info.
I called Mark, reintroduced myself, explained my situation, and asked for advice. He was extremely helpful, and soon I found myself gathering the necessary components of a promotional kit to send to cruise lines and talent agents. I had never needed a promotional kit, so I had to start from scratch to put one together. I had professional "head shot" photos taken. With the help of a friend in theater, I wrote a performing arts resume. I rented a video camera and taped myself performing at the restaurant, then edited the video myself with off-the-shelf video editing software. On a wing and a prayer, I put the promo packs together and shipped them off to cruise lines and talent agents who work on their behalf. The next step was the most nerve wracking: waiting.
Leap Of Faith
About ten days later, I received a call from Norwegian Cruise Lines. They had received my package. The gentleman I spoke with told me they wanted to hire me, but that I had to wait until late January or early February to be placed on one of their ships. He asked me to stay in touch and we would speak again after the holiday season about getting assigned to one of Norwegian's vessels.
A couple days later, Carnival Cruise Lines called me. They had a piano bar position open on a ship called the Victory, explained the gentleman on the phone. "When can you start?" he asked. I was thrilled to accept the offer, but I explained that I needed to give notice to my landlord, move my belongings to storage, and take care of other personal issues before I could start my new job. Carnival offered to keep the position open for me for one month.
In the mean time I had received other offers, but on Sunday, November 24, 2002 I walked aboard the Carnival Victory as their new piano bar entertainer. I remember the music director showing me around the ship, and when we walked into the piano bar, I was terrified. Never before had I performed in a venue where people were seated directly around me at the piano, staring at me in the face! As if that alone wasn't enough for this newbie to adjust to, the grand piano was set upon a raised platform that slowly rotated 360 degrees like a Lazy Susan. (I didn't like the rotating platform at first, but now I actually prefer it; I'm disappointed when I work on a ship where the rotation doesn't work. I think about that first day and have to laugh.) Only a few hours later, with my suitcases barely unpacked, I was opening the piano and beginning my first evening of work in the Victory piano bar. Elton John's "Your Song" was the first tune I performed that night. To this day it's often the first song I sing each night I start work in a piano bar, and the last song I sing on the last night before leaving at the end of a contract.
Now in my tenth year as an entertainer with Carnival, I've had the honor of being selected for six new ship launches, or "inaugurals." More importantly, I've cultivated a large and loyal base of fans, many of whom make their vacation choices depending on which ship I happen to be on. These wonderful people plan their vacation days and spend their hard earned money based on where I'm performing and when. I cannot think of a greater compliment for an entertainer. Many have become personal friends. I thank God everyday for these blessings.
My life as an entertainer has been a wonderful and amazing journey. I have a feeling that the best is yet to come.
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