A love letter for the cello player….

More often than not when I am playing double bass in public someone will make a mistake and unabashedly call the double bass a cello. I typically don’t correct them any more. I feel like it’s just too awkward for the both of us to endure–of course I am still faced with some level of awkwardness because I am fully aware of what just happened–they may never have to face it. Possibly someday while at the grocery store checking the ripeness of Avocados, this realization may occur in their subconscious, “oh, shit…that guy was playing a bass and I called it a cello…” Hopefully, for them, that will never happen and for their sake I pray they aren’t inclined to striking up more conversations with bassists like, “when I was in Billings, MT there was a guy playing a cello just like you are now.” The victim (bassist) might be incredibly confused and forever wonder what bassist in MT is letting people get away with calling the double bass a cello. Sorry friend, it’s me (as I sheepishly raise my hand).

It’s not that I am trying to be weird about it, it’s just that it’s been happening since I started playing out in public. One of my favorite stories is when a gal put a note into the tip jar and it said (paraphrase mine), “For the cello player…I think you are really neat and if you want to get to know me (intimately), here is my number…” I pretty much think that if she was the biggest babe in the world I still wouldn’t give it a thought to call her. You just can’t go around making mistakes like that, even if you are the biggest babe in the world.

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Thanks Kelly Roberti for the image.

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