Is this an invite?
When audiophiles visit for a listening session
One of the great aspects of this audio hobby is meeting new people and having them visit your listening room to hear your stereo. One of the worst aspects of this hobby is meeting new people and having them visit your listening room to hear your stereo.
Have you noticed that it is often the impatient and demanding people who keep the world moving? What would it be like if four people approached a four-way intersection and everyone had a stop sign. If not for the impatient and inconsiderate fellow in the blue Audi who really didn’t even stop, everyone else would have sat there the rest of their lives waiting for the fellow citizen to proceed first. The world needs a few inconsiderate people, for the rest of us kind gentle souls to hate and thank!
I have met a number of interesting and knowledgeable people through AudiogoN. One of the guys I encountered lives in the same city as I, when we learned this we decided to get together and listen to some music. Ermylmeyer told me he had several weeks of vacation arranged and that he could come over any time after May 25th2005. I include the date so people will understand when this happened, if they read this years from now, or incase they read it years ago. Ermylmeyer is not his real name, his name is Greg Ritter, but for the sake of protecting his reputation he will be called Ermylmeyer for the rest of this account. I invited him to come of the 25th just so if he had made other plans for his vacation, I would not be interfering.
It is fairly easy to observe the fact that some people simply don’t know when it is time to leave a party, or any social event. I’m not talking about you and me, since we are a little too self-absorbed to make this error, but other just do not know when to say good-bye. These folks, in combination with the polite host, are a tragedy waiting to happen.
I went to work early that morning to finish up several projects, so I could have the afternoon free for Greg’s visit. I was home by noon, and dusting the turntable when the doorbell rang. When I got upstairs from my basement listening room Greg was waiting patiently at the door. At this moment I should have known that only bad could come of this situation, but being the fool I am, I was none the wiser.
Greg had his arms full. He had brought a bottle of wine, or was it single malt scotch, a number of CDs, and several LPs. I helped with the burden, and we made our way down to the basement, put on a CD and let the system warm up. I asked if he would like a drink, and Greg asked if I had any organic tea. I brewed a pot of tea, and we listened to the rest of the CD. When we switched to vinyl, the listening began in earnest. Greg made all the right comments, and asked almost all the right questions, like “Wow that LP never sounded like that before,” and “The treble seems to go on forever without being strident or over-etched,” and “What the heck is that awful smell?”
It was the baked beans from the day before, but he did not need to know that!
After several hours of listening and several pots of organic tea, my wife arrived home and shouted a greeting down the basement stairs. “Oh, I better get going.” Greg suggested. “Don’t go now, we still haven’t listened to the 200 gram pressing of “Time Out.” It was about an hour later that my wife came down and informed me that dinner was ready. “I really should...” he began. “Do you have plans for dinner?” I asked.
“Well not really.” So we went up. By the time Jill announced dinner, we had finished the bottle of wine Greg brought and opened another one of mine. During dinner we talked about a lot of things that none of us remembered, and finished another bottle of wine. After what felt like hours Greg suggested he had better get going. I asked him if he had somewhere to be and he admitted he did not. He settled back in the sweet spot full of wine, tea, and dinner, looking every bit as miserable as he felt.
I began to play music that sounded progressively worse with the hope that he would be compelled to go, but his manners would not allow it. The sky was dark, the sliver of a moon hung high in the sky and we were listening to the second Headeast album, when Jill came down. Greg nearly pleaded to both of us “I really have to get going.” Jill, who was tired and unhappy with the noise, asked with slightly veiled sarcasm if Greg would please spend the night.
Greg misunderstood her tone, groaned and said he would be glad to stay. Jill rolled her eyes and stalked off, but Greg did not see it since his head was in his hands and he appeared to be sobbing.
I put Greg up in the guest room. He was broken hearted at having missed the chance to flee, when it was available. He meant to leave all day, but...
The next morning when Jill came downstairs, Greg was at the kitchen table finishing his breakfast. She tried to ease him out of the house with a joke. “If you stay any longer, I’ll have to charge you room and board.” An unhappy young man shook Jill’s hand, took out $400.00 and handed it to her, then he burst into tears.
For the next few weeks he was withdrawn, and clearly did not wish to talk. He spent most of the days in the listening room. He drank pots of tea and listened to even the most obscure or trivial music I owned. He sat in the chair and talked to the picture of Annie Lenox on a Eurythmics album. His health faded so fast that soon not even Annie Lenox recognized him.
Finally, at the end of one month, the day his vacationed ended, he passed away. I happened to go into the basement when the moment arrived. His face lit up with joy! “At last the angels are coming for me. I really must leave! Good-bye.”
Finally he was able to do what each of us had wanted him to do for a month.
Have you noticed that it is often the impatient and demanding people who keep the world moving? What would it be like if four people approached a four-way intersection and everyone had a stop sign. If not for the impatient and inconsiderate fellow in the blue Audi who really didn’t even stop, everyone else would have sat there the rest of their lives waiting for the fellow citizen to proceed first. The world needs a few inconsiderate people, for the rest of us kind gentle souls to hate and thank!
I have met a number of interesting and knowledgeable people through AudiogoN. One of the guys I encountered lives in the same city as I, when we learned this we decided to get together and listen to some music. Ermylmeyer told me he had several weeks of vacation arranged and that he could come over any time after May 25th2005. I include the date so people will understand when this happened, if they read this years from now, or incase they read it years ago. Ermylmeyer is not his real name, his name is Greg Ritter, but for the sake of protecting his reputation he will be called Ermylmeyer for the rest of this account. I invited him to come of the 25th just so if he had made other plans for his vacation, I would not be interfering.
It is fairly easy to observe the fact that some people simply don’t know when it is time to leave a party, or any social event. I’m not talking about you and me, since we are a little too self-absorbed to make this error, but other just do not know when to say good-bye. These folks, in combination with the polite host, are a tragedy waiting to happen.
I went to work early that morning to finish up several projects, so I could have the afternoon free for Greg’s visit. I was home by noon, and dusting the turntable when the doorbell rang. When I got upstairs from my basement listening room Greg was waiting patiently at the door. At this moment I should have known that only bad could come of this situation, but being the fool I am, I was none the wiser.
Greg had his arms full. He had brought a bottle of wine, or was it single malt scotch, a number of CDs, and several LPs. I helped with the burden, and we made our way down to the basement, put on a CD and let the system warm up. I asked if he would like a drink, and Greg asked if I had any organic tea. I brewed a pot of tea, and we listened to the rest of the CD. When we switched to vinyl, the listening began in earnest. Greg made all the right comments, and asked almost all the right questions, like “Wow that LP never sounded like that before,” and “The treble seems to go on forever without being strident or over-etched,” and “What the heck is that awful smell?”
It was the baked beans from the day before, but he did not need to know that!
After several hours of listening and several pots of organic tea, my wife arrived home and shouted a greeting down the basement stairs. “Oh, I better get going.” Greg suggested. “Don’t go now, we still haven’t listened to the 200 gram pressing of “Time Out.” It was about an hour later that my wife came down and informed me that dinner was ready. “I really should...” he began. “Do you have plans for dinner?” I asked.
“Well not really.” So we went up. By the time Jill announced dinner, we had finished the bottle of wine Greg brought and opened another one of mine. During dinner we talked about a lot of things that none of us remembered, and finished another bottle of wine. After what felt like hours Greg suggested he had better get going. I asked him if he had somewhere to be and he admitted he did not. He settled back in the sweet spot full of wine, tea, and dinner, looking every bit as miserable as he felt.
I began to play music that sounded progressively worse with the hope that he would be compelled to go, but his manners would not allow it. The sky was dark, the sliver of a moon hung high in the sky and we were listening to the second Headeast album, when Jill came down. Greg nearly pleaded to both of us “I really have to get going.” Jill, who was tired and unhappy with the noise, asked with slightly veiled sarcasm if Greg would please spend the night.
Greg misunderstood her tone, groaned and said he would be glad to stay. Jill rolled her eyes and stalked off, but Greg did not see it since his head was in his hands and he appeared to be sobbing.
I put Greg up in the guest room. He was broken hearted at having missed the chance to flee, when it was available. He meant to leave all day, but...
The next morning when Jill came downstairs, Greg was at the kitchen table finishing his breakfast. She tried to ease him out of the house with a joke. “If you stay any longer, I’ll have to charge you room and board.” An unhappy young man shook Jill’s hand, took out $400.00 and handed it to her, then he burst into tears.
For the next few weeks he was withdrawn, and clearly did not wish to talk. He spent most of the days in the listening room. He drank pots of tea and listened to even the most obscure or trivial music I owned. He sat in the chair and talked to the picture of Annie Lenox on a Eurythmics album. His health faded so fast that soon not even Annie Lenox recognized him.
Finally, at the end of one month, the day his vacationed ended, he passed away. I happened to go into the basement when the moment arrived. His face lit up with joy! “At last the angels are coming for me. I really must leave! Good-bye.”
Finally he was able to do what each of us had wanted him to do for a month.
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