Ok, admit it. There have been some places that you have pulled out a whistle and began playing that were just not smart.
To begin…
-I have played in the car. While driving. In both Milwaukee and Chicago.
I have also played at my girlfriend’s house when she had a headache.(I am still kicking myself for that one. I swear I thought my blackbird was quiet enough that she wouldn’t hear it if I was downstairs.)
-I played in a Marquette dorm hall at 2:30 A.M. (my friend is the R.A, and told me to get revenge on his residents because of their shenanigans.) I almost lost a whistle, and a finger, on that one.
I sometimes drive my wife to her university and then I go into the library to study.
Once, going up the stair well between floors, I realized the acoustics must be fabulous.
I took out my trusty sweetone and commenced playing.
When the police came I prepared to plead my usual dodge, temporary insanity,
The nastier looking of the two officers looked at
me carefully and said:
Hey, that sounds great! Where can I buy one of those?
I don’t know about ‘un-intelligent’ places, what is an un-intelligent place anyway?
I take it you mean places where, in hindsight, it was not a good move to start playing?
I had the opposite experience, although it didn’t start out that way.
I was in The Kitchen Bar in Belfast, ‘Norn Iron’ one summer having a few Guinnesses while waiting for a gap between rain showers. You know it’s summer in Belfast when you get gaps between the showers!
I had just bought a whistle for a friend of mine in Australia and had it in a bag sitting on the bar top. I needed a toilet break so I asked a man who was standing beside me at the bar to watch the bag for me while I was away. When I came back he asked what I had rolled up in the bag and I told him it was a whistle. He asked if I could play it, yes I could, could I play something for him, yes I could. “What would you like me to play?” I asked, 'Anything but that diddley-diddley music" he said. I nearly choked! The thing was, the Kitchen bar was known for it’s great sessions and the craic, and here was a man asking me to play anything but diddley-diddley music. I came to a compromise, he liked Country music, I knew how to play The Tennessee Waltz, so I did. I got the first couple of bars off and then the whole (packed to the rafters) bar went deadly silent as I played. I wasn’t getting any signs that it was being well recieved, no nods of approvement, no smiles, nothing but silence. I carried on regardless and when I stopped the whole bar whooped and clapped as one. I said out loud “Thank God for that, I thought you were all going to lynch me!”
That started off a singing session, and we all had a great afternoon. I heard one of the regulars comment to the bar staff “Started off a bit early today Pat”, ‘Yep’ he replied 'And the way their all knocking the drink back, it’s going to be a long night, but fair game to them, you wouldn’t want them walking home now in that rain would ye?"
I don’t remember leaving, or how I got home
After I ratted out the mob and started in witness protection, I made the mistake of pulling out the whistle in the parking lot of an Olive Garden while waiting for my personal pager to light up. Nick the Slick, who was serving 15 - 20 on account of me, had a nephew named Vinny, who happened to be a newly hired busboy after being told to lay low for a year or two. Vinny had heard my rendition of Frieze Britches so many times while were waiting for shipments that the before I even got to the B part he had phoned one of Nick’s lieutenants. Fortunately I caught sight of him as he was reaching under his car seat for his piece and I skedaddled. Now I live in Montana (oops, now I have to move again) where I will learn another favorite tune.
and ceili whistle man, that’s some amazing luck you had. I once played in a bar on camps and the owner told me that I should take that dog whistle to the park and give the retrievers some practice. Can you guess the whistle I brought to the bar?
If you guessed a burke low d viper than you would be correct.
I’m still trying to figure that one out… Dog whistle=low d…
In the car while standing in front of a red stoplight. I didn’t notice that it turned green until somebody left his car and was kind enough to remind me where I was.
This doesn’t really count as a place, but as an experience: In front of Joannie Madden. I was taking her intermediate whistle class one summer at the Boston Gaelic Roots festival. Sitting right down front in the classroom. We were doing “The Otter’s Holt” and suddenly I could not remember a single note. Joannie looked at me like, “What is this idiot doing in my class?” I just shrugged, because it was all I could do.
Wow, y’all make the whistle sound like such a magical instrument, the playing of which will cause exciting adventures to surely follow. I can’t wait until I’m proficient enough to say, “Pshyeah, I play tin whistle, what NOW?” Unfortunately EVERYONE plays guitar, so mentioning that doesn’t get much of a response usually beyond furled brows and a look of general disappointment.
Oooo, a mountain dulcimer gets a worse response, at least in the UK. But I’m taking mine along to the Folk Club anyway, partly to see what their reaction will be (they’re very polite, but some things are hard to hide) and partly to play “Slan chun Carraig an Eide”. Which sounds pretty good, if I do say so myself.
