My first year in college, I was a music major. More specifically, I was a vocal performance major. And in my performance classes, we didn't do fluffy show tunes. No sir. We did full-on, balls-to-the-wall opera.

I enjoyed it, but my curiosity eventually led me to other majors, as I didn't love it enough to try to make a career out of it (which is no easy task). I took the easy way out and studied practical things.

Anyway, the Google ski trip was last week (no, not all week). I was there Friday and Saturday. Friday night, we were in one of the convention rooms at the party. I, admittedly, had been drinking. On stage, there was an improv comedy group that had been hired for the evening.

From the stage, they announced that the next game would be an "improv opera." The folks I had been standing with knew my background and pushed me to volunteer. As nobody else in the crowd had a hand up, they called me up onto the stage.

At this point, I'm dressed in a plain blue polo and a pair of ratty jeans. I stumble up, and hand off my beer to one of the actors. I'm sure they expected not much more than a drunken frat boy performance.

The opera starts after somebody yells out "narcolepsy!" as a topic. The actors begin their warbly, quasi-operatic voicing of a scene where a young lady brings home her new narcoleptic boyfriend to meet the parents.

After a bit, I make up some throw-away lyrics, belt them out, and blow the room away.

Rapturous applause.

Thanks so much.