Gotta agree with that, Diki. All I wanted them to see is me and the keyboard, but with more than 3,800 songs roaming around in the cobwebs of my aging mind, there were times when that 9-inch netbook PC came in handy. Most of the time, however, I just left it closed and it went into a standby mode. The only bad thing about the standby mode is it took about 30 seconds to recover, thus 30 seconds of dead air, which as you are well aware, seems like a lifetime when you have a packed dancefloor and people headed for their seats.

I always loved it, particularly when I was performing the nite club circuit in Baltimore's Little Italy, and some drunken fool would climb on the stage and ask you if you had "House Of The Rising Sun" or some other song, in that machine while they were holding a glass of beer in their hand over the top of my keyboard. I usually responded by saying, are you bringing me a beer, at which point they would back away a bit, clutching that beer as if were a life ring thrown to them from a sinking ship. I then usually responded saying "There are no songs in this machine - they're all up here" pointing to the side of my head. Then I would sneak into the music finder directory, where the songs are listed alphabetically, use the scrolling wheel and quickly select the song. I probably played "House Of The Rising Sun" a couple thousand times in my 30 years on stage, so no need to look up the lyrics.

I clearly remember one job where I was filling in for a friend who was recovering from a heart attack and spent six weeks in rehab after a pacemaker implant. He was really having a tough time and it was a Saturday Night job, a time when I rarely worked doing the senior circuit. There were three couples sitting at a table 20 feet in front of me, they were constantly talking, often very loud, when a lady got up from the table and came over to the piano bar where I had my keyboard setup. She was totally blasted, and began talking to me while I was playing and singing a song. She was obnoxious, to say the least, and finally I just stopped playing, left the mic on, and said "Maam, do you realize how difficult it is to play a song, sing that song, and talk to you at the same time? She gave me a weird stare, turned around and walked quickly to the table and in a loud voice said "Frank, I told you it was him singing, and it's him playing the songs, too." I almost wet my pants I was laughing so hard. Her husband/boy friend gave me a nasty look, got up from his seat and I didn't see him again the rest of the night.

This again, was in Baltimore's Little Italy, at a restaurant that has long since gone out of business, called Dela Notte, where the keyboard was pretty much totally hidden from view, and you were surrounded by a piano bar and you sat behind a huge Steinway. When my friend came back to work, I greeted him with open arms and said "I'm damned glad you didn't die - I'm outta here!"

I was glad to back entertaining the wonderful people I met doing the senior circuit, daytime jobs, no getting home at 2 a.m., no drunks to contend with, better pay, middle of the day, every day of the week.

All the best,

Gary