So, NYC TV has a show about New York independent music called New York Noise and they were kind enough to do a feature on me. The feature's climax involved me playing ukulele at a Bar Mitzvah party in front of a few hundred 12 and 13-year-old kids. This turned out to be one of the most nerve-shredding experiences of my life.

I like to think that the crowd was on the verge of rioting before I started playing, that it wasn't entirely my fault. But I'll never know for sure. Either way, I tried to talk to the kids before I started playing. I playfully called up the Bar Mitzvah boy but he did not come up to the stage. There was only silence. All attempts to relate to the savage mob failed. They did not laugh at my jokes, so I just started playing.

I learned the hard way that music does not soothe the savage 12-year-old. With the first strum of my ukulele, the kids mobbed me, trying to pull my ukulele from my hands as I played (probably so they could smash it!). They were screaming, "Give it to me! Give it to me!" It was very difficult to continue playing, but I persevered (there were cameras on me!). Then the kids discovered that if they struck the mike stand, the microphone would smash me in the face! They loved this because it was clear I had to choose whether to stop playing and stand back from the mike or to endure repeated face-smashes! They were challenging me to submit to them, to stop playing. And like the many heroic characters I've seen martyred in the movies, I refused to give up. I think I was behaving sort of like Jack Nicholson from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest or maybe Mel Gibson in Braveheart? Or perhaps I closer resembled Wile E. Coyote, being repeatedly smashed only out of my own vanity and ego, for no real meaningful purpose at all.

Either way, I thought it would be over when I got off-stage, but it was far from over. I went to the bathroom to calm my nerves and call my girlfriend. But before I could actually make the call, a 13-year-old walked in. He saw me holding my phone and asked, "Who are you calling?" I said, "My girlfriend." He said, "Are you sure it's not really your Mom?" I said, "Wow! You really caught me! You really outsmarted me on that one!" but the kid just smirked as if I was trying to disguise truth with sarcasm...I knew there would be no convincing him. Sure, it's pretty ridiculous that I needed this kid's approval and was moved at all by him making fun of me, but that's how it was. I reverted right back to my miserable 13-year-old self, in a state of perpetual humiliation, never understanding how these kids could come up with such insulting things to say, and how they could be so emotionally invincible, so well defended against responses! When I was 13, I remember actually wondering if my enemies had somehow gone to a school for insults over the summer (now that I think about it, I should probably try to open a "school for insults" for nerdy kids to attend so they can defend themselves).

Then things got worse. Suddenly, the whole bathroom was full of 13-year-old boys. They were standing between me and the door. I was trapped. One boy (man? was he yet bar mitzvahed?) said, "So, no offense, but your music's really bad." This was where retorts started running through my brain! I thought of saying, "Yeah, well, no offense but you're really not one to be making fun of anybody. I mean, look at yourself! You're four feet tall, covered in pimples, wearing braces, dressed ridiculously in clothes to big for you...the list goes on!" I figured it was a bad idea to get involved in a back-and-forth insult match with these kids for many reasons. First of all, that's pretty objectively a pathetic thing to do, to go all out on some pathetic 13-year-olds who don't know how to be anything but obnoxious. Second of all, there was a good chance that they'd still win, that my insult wouldn't affect them and they'd just say, "How old are you? 26? And you're trading insults with 13-year-olds? What a loser!" Then there was the third possibility that they'd suddenly start crying or something, which would have brought me great satisfaction.

I kept my mouth shut and pushed past them as they shouted after me, calling me "40-Year-Old Virgin!!! 40-Year-Old Virgin!!!"

When I got outside the bathroom, I found that the crowd had grown and I was awash in a sea of 13-year-olds. I was trying to wade through them (it was seriously like wading because they were so little, only reaching up to my waist) to get outside where I would be safe, but everywhere I turned, there was some kid waving at me and calling, "Michael! Michael!" I'd say, "Yes?" and then the kid would say something like, "You suck!" One girl stopped me wiith her friends and said, "Hey, Michael, you were really great before!" I knew what was coming so I clenched my teeth and said, "Thanks." The girl's face twisted into a cartoonish approximation of surprise. "Wait!" she said. "You were serious about that music you were playing? I thought it was a joke!" She and her friends all laughed. I thought, "Are you serious wearing that dress and makeup? Don't you understand that you're 12 years old and hideous and you can't pull off dressing slutty? Have you ever looked in a mirror?" But once again, I kept my mouth shut. Then these girls continued. "You're like the 40-Year-Old Virgin!" she said. "Are you a virgin? You are, aren't you? It's okay. It's okay to be a virgin. Are you a virgin?" I broke down and actually said to them, "No, I'm not a virgin." They said, "Yes you are. It's okay. You can admit it." This was the do-or-die moment. I either had to attack these girls about their own virginity or get out of there. I made my choice. I ran away, defeated.

Anyway, the moral of the story, as I see it, is that it's feeling good about oneself doesn't really come from inside so much as it does from surrounding yourself by a world that understands you and appreciates you. I don't think of myself as terribly insecure (though my music may suggest that?) but I have to admit that when I found myself in someone else's world where I was unanimously despised and treated with contempt, it was very difficult to feel good about myself, like to preserve any dignity at all. I don't blame myself for that. I tend to think that even the most confident people would crack a bit under these circumstances, or maybe it was just me?

So, you can watch the New York Noise episode that contains this Bar Mitzvah performance (though unfortunately not the entire parade of horribles...most of this occurred off-camera) here at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teBrZxk3Kx0