I was so distracted by the extra bonus attraction at the symphony Saturday night that I forgot what I had initially planned to discuss about my experience Saturday night. Prior to the "moon" incident, I was actually in a bit of a tiz, a bit shocked and horrified about the ordeal I had experienced prior to taking my seat.
In the parking lot of the show, I'd encountered yet another former student of mine -- Missy, a speech and drama alum who was pretty much my right hand all last year as president of the Drama Club. She is off at school now but had returned home for the weekend for a dentist's appointment and to see the symphony. She is a cellist herself, so the chance to see the featured soloist (whom she has known her whole life) was pretty great.
Missy and I walked into the lobby of the Orpheum Theatre which was packed to the gills with people in line waiting to buy last minute tickets and/or waiting in line to go into the theatre itself. We cut through the lobby as best we could and headed over to the empty concession area where Missy's mother was waiting. We chatted briefly and then decided to head in and find our seats.
THIS is where the tiz originates.
We moved out into the lobby and began the process of joining the line waiting to get into the theatre. I joined the line and then stood there and watched at at least five old ladies cut right in front of me. What should have taken a matter of a minute or two ended up taking nearly ten as I was continually brushed past by these elderly women. At one point, we reached a standstill and I realized it was because one old lady had stopped and was holding a full conversation with the ticket taker (also an old lady). My sis had managed to be more agressive or something as she was waiting for me when I finally got through the line. She was standing with a theatre manager (also a former student) and laughing because she could see the look of frustration on my face and had witnessed at least one line jump from a particularly tiny old lady (I probably should have just stepped on her and crushed her, but I was taught to respect my elders!). I said, "Old people are freakin' rude!" The theatre manager replied, "Welcome to symphony night. This crowd is nasty!"
And here's what I was chewing on in the minutes leading up to the beginning of the program Saturday night . . . "WHAT THE FRICK?!???" I cannot wait to be old so I can throw common courtesy right out the window. Now, it would have been one thing if I had kindly stepped aside and let the women go first. And I actually did that as I was initially merging into the line. What irked me was that I was clearly already in line and these old bats just walked right in front of me like I wasn't even there. So take this as a warning, world. When Mel gets old (and it's coming quicker than I'd like to admit), I am going to be the rudest, brassiest, most inconsiderate old broad ever. So watch your toes. The symphony has taught me that with age comes privilege and that privilege is not having to wait in line to see the symphony!!