Well, having
satisfied my urge to criticize an $8 fee so that a two ton inanimate vehicle
might be authorized to cover a 70 square foot patch of asphalt for two hours,
the pain in my psyche, (though not in my wallet) was ever so slightly assuaged.
Did I use
the word, ‘slightly?’ And did I mention I am slightly more than slightly
introverted; at least in regard to one facet of the ‘malady’? (I thought so). It
might be helpful, at this point, for my readers to understand that given such a
prestigious event as “Swan Lake,” as performed by The Russian State Ballet, it
is my habit to do everything in my power to compensate for my ineptitude. Thus,
I had attired myself in my one and only black business suit and attractive
burgundy pullover, (and was pleased with the effect).
It was only
as Jean and I walked towards the portal of the Lakeland Center that I realized
…how desperately overdressed I was. For in spite of the nature of the event and
the caliber of the troupe which was scheduled to perform it, men in slacks and
shirt sleeves preceded me to the door. As a result, those old feelings of
insecurity came creeping over me for an altogether different reason.
My attempt
to dress for the occasion singled me out from the majority of the other men in
the auditorium. But as a consolation prize it was insightful to be (so
experientially) informed that only bare chests and saggy pants were prohibited
in this stratospheric environment.
Having been
directed to Orchestra seats J7 & J8, my wife and I proceeded to make
ourselves comfortable. However, I can tell you that my slightly more than
slightly introverted psyche was, by this time, much more comfortable than the
seat upon which I had installed my derriere. For you see, though the entire row
was vacant, save my wife and I, and another couple, the cushion upon which I
sat was a bit narrow for my hinder parts. And as unfortunate as this happened
to be, every armrest in the theater was intended for the use of…the left and
right arms, respectively, of the occupant and their nearest neighbor.
Needing a
diversion from my anatomical misery, I glanced towards the stage and noticed
the orchestra pit was filled with adults and children of various ages. And I
thought to myself, “Self, remind me never to choose a seat in the orchestra
pit.” How absurdly eye-numbing, and neck aching it would be to sit three feet
below a host of 20 ballet dancers; doing what ballet dancers do best. But it
was then I thought, “to each his own,” and settled back to watch the Russians
‘strut their stuff.’
Well, about
this time Tchaikovsky’s composition filled the auditorium. And since neither
Tchaikovsky, nor an orchestra representing his melodious score could be seen in
any corner or level of the place, (certainly not in the orchestra pit) I
rightly presumed we were listening to what has been referred to as, ‘music in a
can.’
(to be continued)
By
William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 49.Copyright pending.
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