August, 1998, Montevideo, Uruguay

Paolo Esperanza, bass-trombonist with the Simphonica Mayor de
Uruguay, in a misplaced moment of inspiration decided to make his own
contribution to the cannon shots fired as part of the orchestra's
performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at an outdoor children's
concert. In complete seriousness he placed a large, ignited
firecracker, which was equivalent in strength to a quarter stick of
dynamite, into his aluminum straight mute and then stuck the mute
into the bell of his quite new Yamaha in-line double-valve bass
trombone.

Later, from his hospital bed he explained to a reporter through
bandages on his mouth, "I thought that the bell of my trombone would
shield me from the explosion and instead, would focus the energy of
the blast outwards and away from me, propelling the mute high above
the orchestra, like a rocket."

However, Paolo was not up on his propulsion physics nor qualified to
use high-powered artillery and in his haste to get the horn up before
the firecracker went off, he failed to raise the bell of the horn
high enough so as to give the mute enough arc to clear the orchestra.

What actually happened should serve as a lesson to us all during
those delirious moments of divine inspiration. First, because he
failed to sufficiently elevate the bell of his horn, the blast
propelled the mute between rows of players in the woodwind and viola
sections of the orchestra, missing the players and straight into the
stomach of the conductor, driving him off the podium and directly
into the front row of the audience.

Fortunately, the audience were sitting in folding chairs and thus
they were protected from serious injury, for the chairs collapsed
under them, passing the energy of the impact of the flying conductor
backwards into row of people sitting behind them, who in turn were
driven back into the people in the row behind and so on, like a row
of dominos. The sound of collapsing wooden chairs and grunts of
people falling on their behinds increased logarithmically, adding to
the overall sound of brass cannons and brass playing as constitutes
the closing measures of the Overture.

Meanwhile, all of this unplanned choreography notwithstanding, back
on stage Paolo's Waterloo was still unfolding. According to Paolo,
"Just as I heard the sound of the blast, time seemed to stand still.
Everything moved in slow motion. Just before I felt searing pain to
my mouth, I could swear I heard a voice with a Austrian accent say
"Fur every akshon zer iz un eekvul un opposeet reakshon!" Well, this
should come as no surprise, for Paolo had set himself up for a
textbook demonstration of this fundamental law of physics. Having
failed to plug the lead pipe of his trombone, he allowed the energy
of the blast to send a superheated jet of gas backwards through the
mouth pipe of the trombone which exited the mouthpiece, burning his
lips and face.

The pyrotechnic ballet wasn't over yet. The force of the blast was so
great it split the bell of his shiny Yamaha right down the middle,
turning it inside out while at the same time propelling Paolo
backwards off the riser. And for the grand finale, as Paolo fell
backwards he lost his grip on the slide of the trombone, allowing the
pressure of the hot gases coursing through the horn to propel the
trombone's slide like a double golden spear into the head of the 3rd
clarinetist, knocking him unconscious.

The moral of the story? Beware the next time you hear someone in the
trombone section yell out "Hey, everyone, watch this!"