Full moon. Cool Chicago summer night. Corner of Wellington and Lincoln. St. Alphonsus, a large church with an improbably ornate gothic doorway, where the entire cast of The Mysterious Elephant was hiding out in the shadows, musical instruments in hand--two guitars, a banjo, a violin, a French horn, a children's xylophone, some hand percussion.
A guy named Micah had asked us to help us surprise the woman he described as the love of his life. A few weeks ago, he told us, they had a magical moment when they watched Mysterious Elephant and drove home singing "Oh, elephant, elephant." He wanted to give her another magical moment because, he said, she deserved to have a lot of them.
So we watched them come across Lincoln, out of what looked like a garden party. He led her up the steps. Scott (in semi-costume as Cristoff: fake dead arm paired with a red T-shirt and shorts) wobbled up to them. I think maybe she thought he was drunk at first. But then she recognized him. We heard a peal of delighted laughter, and we came out of the shadows onto the landing. (Is it a landing when it's outside? Especially when it's outside a church? Porch seems too modest a word. But anyway.)
We sang the Elephant song, with the last lyrics changed:
We surprised you
Micah has asked us to
He'd like to ask you...
And that was when he showed her the ring. I think by then most of us were already crying. She was. She kissed him like she meant it. Everyone applauded. There was a cheer from the garden party. The cast turned around and walked back to the recording studio.
My god, I love being an artist. It's hard, it's impossibly frustrating and contrary, there's no money to speak of, but I wouldn't trade a moment like that for the world.
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