Last night my parents, family friends, Rasmus and I drove all the way to Philadelphia in the pouring rain (about a 2.5 hour drive), excited about attending the annual opening night of the Philadelphia Philharmonic. We checked into my father’s club for the night, the Union League, got dressed for the evening, and had a beautiful dinner at one of the club’s several restaurants. We all had a great time catching up, talking to Rasmus about Norway, and the McKeans about their various exciting ventures and family, and of course the playbill for the evening.
We joyously walked three blocks to the Orchestra, toasted champagne, took photos, and found our seats.
After a strangely long wait (we go to this every year), the President of the symphony came on stage. She was pleasant, welcomed us to the event and annual fundraiser for the year, stating, “The Philadelphia philharmonic is one of the best in the country if not the world, and unfortunately you won’t be hearing them tonight.” The musicians had gone on strike. My heart sank. We had awaited this evening and it was such a disappointment, especially since we had guests with us! But the musicians had an argument with the labor union and they simply couldn’t come to an agreement.
Luckily, we are a pretty flexible group, so we ended up going back to the club, and sitting in the bar room for the rest of the evening. It was a great time. We reminisced, told funny stories, and just had a blast. My father then took the group for a tour of the art collections throughout the club.
Altogether it was a lovely night, and I’m glad we turned lemons into lemonade.