Staying out in the woods, with a few members of the BSO in neighboring campsites, turned out to be a very pleasant experience. We could see the lake through the trees from the doorway of the tent. I could also go back to the dorm for a shower, or for a sick bay as I had a bad kidney infection and had to spend a few days in bed. James continued to take lessons with Larry and had to be gone for his court date. But I never really questioned him about that, mainly, I think, due to naivite.
Our concerts were amazing: I had never played in such a good orchestra. We also got to play a concert with the BSO: Guerrelieder by Schoenberg which calls for a huge orchestra, chorus and vocal soloists. It was conducted by Seigi Ozawa and was an experience that I will never forget.
The five other bass players in the program and I got to be very good friends. We drove with the other woman bassist to New York City to check out a bass that she ended up buying. We also would go out after the concerts for food and drink and have remained in touch to this day. Before long though, the summer was over and we were packing up to go home. James and I took down the tent and drove in convoy south to return to Miami.
On our trip, we stayed in some motels, but one night we came to a KOA campground. It was close to midnight and the sign said it was full for the night. The office was closed but James said, "Let's go in anyway. There's bound to be an empty campsite." So, against my better judgement, we went in.
The trees were black around us, standing tall, silent giants. Fireflies flitted about, magical flashing pinpoints, forming a kaleidoscope of tiny lights. Driving up and down the rows, we didn't see any empty sites until we were almost to the end. There was a vacant campsite that was marked reserved. "Oh, that's probably for tomorrow," said James. "Besides, it's so late, no one would be coming in at this hour."
Famous last words. After we had set up the tent, gotten into our sleeping bags, and been asleep for a couple hours, we were awakened by voices and flashlights shining into the tent. "Can't you see the "reserved" sign?" shouted a male voice. "Get out of there right now and leave the campground!" The camp host was there with the people who had reserved the site. We sheepishly got dressed, took down the tent as fast as we could and got back on the road. We ended up parking on the side of the highway, a few miles away, and slept until dawn.
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