Violinists Are All the Same

Story Sent in by Candice:

In college, I met Charles, a fellow student. He was a violinist. He asked if he could take me out to dinner and play violin for me afterward. I loved the thought of it, so we made the plans.

At dinner he seemed really on edge. I asked him if everything was okay and he snapped at me. He apologized for it right afterward but it was still unsettling.

After we ate he led me to a studio on campus. I sat down and he played his violin. He started with a slow piece and then sped it up. It sounded good. Then he stopped and said, "Wait, that's not... hang on."

He played the same piece over and over, faster each time. He was becoming more frazzled and I said to him, "It sounded great. Don't get upset."

He stepped close to my face and yelled, "Never tell a violinist what to do and what not to do!" He immediately played a horrible screeching song as he stomped all around the studio, slamming his feet down with each step.

I left without saying goodbye. I waited by the door for a few seconds to see if he'd maybe follow me out and apologize for acting like an idiot, but he just kept stomping and playing. Maybe he didn't even notice - or care - that I had gone. So I went home.

A couple of hours later, I received an email from him. There was no correspondence written, but he had attached a 30-second video he had taken with his phone. It was of himself stomping around the studio and making an awful racket with his violin.


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