What not to do (names changed to protect the guilty)

Three baroque flute players walk into a bar . . .

OK, it wasn't a bar, per se, it was a seafood bar in Seattle's Pike Place Public Market. And I suppose the only beginning more lame, in terms of gripping the reader with a sense that adventure is imminent, would be something like, "we were sitting in a bar drinking chardonnay," unless that is the beginning of people getting the stuffing beaten out of them ["We were sitting in a bar drinking chardonnay. It was a hot summer day and the wine was chilled. We didn't realize it was a biker bar whose local patrons thought classical music dorks would be fun to torment . . . "]. But I digress. There actually is something relevant to performing music and baroque flutes here.

Three baroque flute players step up to a seafood bar. A place well-known and well-loved and the food is well-enjoyed, and well, not often enough. Two of the players order the freshly made clam chowder. It looked and smelled delicious. The third player orders, in retrospect wisely, the grilled salmon sandwich.

The meal was enjoyed by all, and the gang was ready to continue the sightseeing before heading back to watch the finals of a tennis match, and then get ready for the concert. Priorities, you know.

On the way back home to watch said tennis match, player 1 notices that the inside of his upper lip is in distress. It actually hurts. As they get closer to home (and the TV) player 1 begins to panic. "My lip is cut on the inside!!! What will that do to my playing? Am I ruined for life? Will I need plastic surgery to correct this? What am I going to do??? I've got to get in the house and, tennis be darned, play a few notes to see if it has messed up my playing!!!" So the driving gets a little more reckless. Players 2 and 3 exchange glances ("what is he doing? Why is he driving like this??"). They get to their destination, player 1 dashes madly into the house, runs to the bathroom, turns on the light, washes his hands, grabs his upper lip violently, turns it inside out, and leans towards the mirror. *GASP*! He can SEE the cut. A hideous gash (about 2mm long). He runs out of the bathroom grabs a flute, and starts playing . . .

Everything is fine. The cut has absolutely no effect.

Player 1 says to the others: "I cut my lip with the plastic spoon at the seafood bar. I was completely panicked, especially after I saw the huge, enormous gash in the mirror. But once I played a few notes, I realized that everything was fine. Sorry to disrupt the tennis match."

Player 2 says, "I cut my lip too. But I just figured that if it was damaged, there was nothing I could do about it, so I stopped worrying."

Player 3 said, "the sandwich was excellent."

The moral of the story: watch what you put in your mouth. Protect your investment, especially on the day of a concert.