There's No "I" in "Team"

I've mentioned here before that I sing in a non-professional choir.

Tomorrow is our big twenty-fifth anniversary concert extravaganza and, wouldn't you know it, the little germ squadron that has been plaguing the V-meister for the past three days is now attempting to penetrate (I said penetrate!) the fortress of my immune system.

I'm not actually sick yet, mind you, but I can feel it coming.

Which is why I've been chugging expired packets of Emergen-C all day long in an effort to stave off illness. Let's hope the homeopathic warrior antigens win out, because have I mentioned that the success of this entire performance is hinged on my participation? It takes a special kind of talent to lip sync those really high notes in such a way as to leave the audience none the wiser.

Lithuanian choir is an extreme hobby, my friends. You don't just sit it out if you're feeling a bit under the weather. You hook yourself up to some IV fluids, offer up a little prayer, and hope you don't fall off stage.

Why, I sang in our twentieth anniversary jubilee concert five years ago with only half a functioning larynx, thanks to a nasty case of laryngitis. I was unable to speak for the entire week after the show, but that's what you do when you're a church choir supah-stah.

Just last night during rehearsal, an elderly alto almost passed out during the Mozart Mass in D. We had her lie down on a pew for a few minutes while someone took her blood pressure and fed her some Werther's Originals, and she was back on her game in no time at all.

Anyway, in between Emergen-C cocktails, I took my mom up on her offer to babysit the kids for a few hours and had a blissfully solitary lunch at a local cafe.

I was going to be all high-tech and post from the coffee shop, but I experienced some connection issues. Unable to get online using the cafe's network, I went balls-out and hitched a ride on some random unsecured wireless network named "Killer" that popped up on my screen.

Then I started sweating bullets, because isn't that like the equivalent of hacking into the FBI mainframe?

The connection was dropped after about two minutes (they were on to me) and I wasted the remainder of my lunch spree debating whether I should go ahead and turn myself in to the police station around the corner.

OK, not really, because I also have outstanding parking tickets.

But I did feel a bit criminal.

The End.

(And I hope I don't get sick.)