How to Incur A Piper's Wrath

The bagpipes have a proud and noble heritage, one that hearkens back to the days of chivalry, when men were men and sheep were... well that's another story. Still, one cannot help but be moved when they hear the haunting refrain of the pipes. Why is it then that occasionally you find some who just don't get it? Allow me to illustrate with a short story.

It was a dark and stormy night... (Cliche I know, but true.) Anyway, the clouds were thick and unyielding with the rain lightly falling as I prepared for an evening's work. I was ready, I had my Inverness cape, my hoody, my fourteen hundred layers of garments and of course my trusty Glengarry Cap. I closed the tailgate to my loyal Bronco and set out to battle the elements.

It was 5:00 P.M. on a stormy Wednesday afternoon and my prospects looked dismal. Still, I was undaunted. After all, this was Scottish weather. My destination was the old Capitol theater in the business district of downtown. The opera was playing, it was always a hot spot for potential success. The feature for this evening was a work entitled "Falstaff", an opera adapted from a Shakespeare comedy about an old man's woes as he strove to find love.

After organizing my display, I set about tuning the pipes. Soon I was filling the air with slow airs, jigs and reels. It's interesting how the sound reacts with the moisture in the air. It gives the tone of the pipes a solid, full sound. It seems to carry much further as it bounces from building to building. Llieam was in full voice and tuned to perfection. Each note seemed to be poetry. The reaction I received from the people passing by confirmed my assessment, it was going to be a grand night, despite the falling precipitation. Things went well all night. I played until 7:30 and then went to a favorite spot by Squatters.

I set up next to a street lamp just to the left of the restaurant. The rain had subsided and it turned into a wonderful, cool evening. I met some interesting people and again the pipes did their thing. Wow, this was shaping up to be a wonderful night. Only one gig left, play for the folks coming out of the opera at 10:00 P.M. I decided to rest for an hour and let my pipes dry out before tackling the last objective of the night.

I love my Bronco, it is the perfect rolling office. It is large, warm, affording an excellent place to rest and take in a little classical music. Finally the appointed hour arrived and I again ventured forth into the dark night to ply my trade. All not for profit of course, I mean, I do this for fun not for money.

I arrived at my appointed spot on the corner of 2nd South and West Temple and began to play. Again the pipes gave me a wonderful tone and it was a joy to hear. Soon the folks from the Opera began to emerge and walk toward me. Here is where I will stop my story momentarily and interject a comment or two...

Ok, This is the educational portion of the post. For those interested in really pissing off a Bagpiper, here are a few suggestions.

1. Walk up to the piper and say, "Will you please stop that noise, it makes me sad."
2. Drive by and try to upstage him by honking your horn repeatedly as if to be louder than him/her.
3. Lean out of your car and make lude and suggestive comments to the Piper.
4. Continually refer to the Kilt as a dress or a skirt.
5. Tell him he has a very nice purse.
6. Tell the piper that you just love Irish Music.
And finally I will revisit my story to illustrate the 8th way to really piss off a Piper.

Anyway, as I mentioned, the folks began walking toward me. Soon, the orchestra members began filing past. Most were congenial and polite, some even complimented me on my performance. Then I noticed her. She was about thirty feet away and walking towards me.

She had her fingers in her ears with a pained look on her face as if to say, "Can't you find some other place to make that racket."

Seriously? She has to plug her ears from thirty feet away? At that distance, city buses are noisier than my pipes. No, she was making a statement. She obviously did not like the pipes and was letting me know. I felt a tiny spark ignite deep down in my soul. It was possibly the same one that ignited in the Scots when the English forbade us from playing the pipes so long ago. I watched her as she came, hoping it was just a mistake and she wasn't meaning the obnoxious gesture for me. But as she approached she looked at me and gave a slight shake of her head and proceeded on. On her back she had her Violin.

What? A fellow musician? The nerve! What gall! Something just snapped inside me. I was playing a rendition of "Scotland the Brave". As she neared me, I snaked my way through the crowd and got right next to her. I played as I walked backward, keeping my pipes in her face the whole time. I stayed that way for a good ten or so steps before retreating back to my post.

I know what the reader must be thinking. You brute, how could you? Actually, I felt really bad afterward, I just couldn't help myself. There's a lesson in all of this.

MORAL: When you encounter a piper playing, whether it be in a mall, on the street, or in a park, think before you act. If you don't care for the sound, simply walk another direction. I mean, The piper was there first. By all means, do not feel some noble need to display your distaste in a way that disgraces the piper. It may be your undoing.