A few weeks ago, I had a distant relative call and ask if I would mind running the sound for her wedding. Being the exceptionally nice (not to mention blood-related) guy that I am, I accepted the challenge. I asked the normal questions. What type of mixer do you have? What's the speaker configuration? How many people are you expecting? All questions that resulted in a long cricket chirping sound. So, when I asked "Would you like for me to bring my system", I was floored to hear a "No". Apparently, the wedding chapel offered a "premium sound system" rental that was included with their wedding package. And, so, the drama begins.... Since I was traveling through the bowels of Hades, I mean, Atlanta rush-hour traffic, I showed up to the Friday rehearsal at 7:15. Of course, it started at 7. To my utter amusement, the only remnants of what may be construed as a sound system lay piled in a dusty corner alongside a TV cart. My stomach started to crawl like I just downed a handful of shrimp chimichangas from a room-temperature all-you-can-eat Mexican buffet. My worst fears were realized when I looked at the front of the 80-pound 4-channel head and it said, "P-E-A-V-E-Y". No faders, no mutes, no aux-anything, just raw, late-70’s 4-ohm thunder. Wow, this is going to be fun. Since the Pre-19th Century chapel designers didn't care much for sound-booths, I knew that I was doing this show "in the raw". This one might not go on my reference CD for future resumes. First, I had to roll this squeaky-wheeled TV cart to the most hidden place I could find, partly because of the unwritten rule of sound that engineers should be “transparent” and partly because a sense of impending doom suggested I stay close to an exit. This strategic position just happened to cut off the guests' entrance to the Groom's side of the chapel. I had no more than chalked the wheels on the cart when a big-haired wedding planner rushes over to "help me out". Apparently, she too was a sound professional, so she ushered me over to the over-flow wing at stage right. Now, I don't know if you've ever been in one of these old, cross-shaped churches, but they used this building style to embarrass people into showing up on-time. If you were late to these churches, you had to sneak in the over-flow section that is directly in the sight-path of the entire congregation and offers little, if any, view of the person speaking at the pulpit. So, let me get this straight... I can't see the preacher to get my cues for songs, but everyone in the audience will be looking right at me when I screw up. Fantastic. Now I’m settling into my "sound pew", so it's time to power up. I squandered a (no kidding) neon green extension chord from one of the Hispanic fellows outside trimming the lawn. I thought, "Well, at least no one will trip over it". Right. As I scour the chapel for an outlet, I realize that the architecture has once again trumped my ambition to remain unnoticed. There are no outlets to be found. Between the bustling of big-haired wedding planners and bridesmaids, I heard a welcome sound. It was a hair dryer coming from somewhere around the baptistry. Can you see the brief glimmer of hope, here? And, as you could imagine that hope was squashed when I ran the cable to the outlet and found the people who installed the electricity in the building (somewhere around the 1920's) had not yet heard of a ground wire. Well, being the ever-professional that I am.... I broke off the ground on the plug and jammed it in, another act that won’t likely make my resume. The next challenge was one we all remember from playing coffee houses and fraternity parties. I had two 25-foot speaker cables. I was about 15 feet from the left speaker, but about 35-feet from the right…. Sounds like we’ll be crankin’ this puppy in 2-ohm mono! … hey, man, don’t judge me… So, now I’ve got power. I’ve got the speakers connected. Now, let’s get this party started. The Groom hands me a list of songs he wrote on the back of a tithing envelope. Thankfully, each song has a listing like, “Song 7 on CD #3” and “Song 9 on CD #6”. Then, he hands me a CD wallet and walks away. Guess what’s inside? Yep, it’s 8 discs with “Maxell” written on them. … ~insert cricket sound here~… The disc problem was quickly solved, but now I have the joy of getting the sound FROM the CD to come through the speakers. Luckily, being the intelligent, recent med-school graduate that she is, the Bride brought along her Boom-Box to make sure we had something to play the CD. No, not a CD player, not a CD deck, but a real, live, won-it-as-a-door-prize Boom-Box! “Thanks… no, really…. Thanks” Four make-shift adapters later, we have something closely resembling music coming from the speakers. ~insert cheers of joy here~ But where were the singers that were on the playlist? Where were the friggin’ mics? Stay tuned for Day 2’s exciting conclusion…
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