Dramatic Dvorak

The Interlochen Bowl was abuzz. It was the final concert of the summer and the World Youth Symphony Orchestra was playing Dvorak’s Symphony No.9, From the New World. All week long, the campus had tingled with excitement. It was as though Lady Gaga was coming to camp. I sat down next to my friends, two rows from the front. We were packed into the seats, as tightly as sardines in a tin. Behind us, multitudes of people sat sprawled out on the grassy lawn. There must have been thousands. Sitting facing the Bowl, an old open air bandstand, I could see the lake glimmering in the evening light beyond. The crowd roared with enthusiasm. Proudly holding their instruments, the musicians filed in. Then, they began to play and time seemed to stop.
One, two, three movements went by. Adagio, largo, scherzo. Moderately slow, very slow, quite fast. I sat there, fixated on the musicians. The string players were mesmerizing to watch. Their bows stroked in perfect unison. Mechanically. They moved to and fro, entirely caught up in the music. Jung Ho conducted with vim and vigor such as I have never seen. He danced around his small podium. Jumping and waving his arms, he brandished his baton. Convulsing to the music, he was out of control.
Then came the moment I’d been waiting for. Movement four, allegro con fuoco, fast, with fire. The strings were tense. It was like the final minute of a close game. Then, the horns came in. They were loud. They were dramatic. They were like a giant explosion of passion and fire and sound. At the first note, I jerked around to face my friend Rachel, inexplicably excited. It was as though we were telepathic, for at exactly that moment, she turned to face me, a wild passion in her eyes. We grinned at each other, thrilled beyond measure, like little kids on the mornings of their birthdays. It was over in a flash. And the audience exploded with applause. I jumped out of my seat to join the standing ovation. I felt overwhelmed. I was on sensory overload. The final chord was still ringing in my mind. I couldn’t get enough of the music.
The musicians stood to take their bows. But once didn’t cut it. The applause rained down for what seemed like hours. I spotted my best friend, a violist in the second row. A blinding smile radiated from her face. I called her name. I know she couldn’t hear me over the endless elated screams of the audience. It didn’t matter, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. It had been an amazing summer of music. There couldn’t possibly have been a better conclusion.