Shush

I'm losing track of the days. What did I do last week?

I also lost my daily planner. I'm a bit of a hopeless cause right now.

Anyhow, to the best of my memory, I had work and meetings and a trip to Trader Joe's then drank wine with MB in my pseudo-sort-of-backyard on Saturday, and had a meeting then work then the opening of Dead Man's Cell Phone at Woolly on Sunday.

Stunning work all around. Rebecca creates such a beautiful world--I loved the design, and the play is delicate, specific, unexpected--everything I like theater to be.

Jackie-L got us wonderful seats, smack dab in the center so all-in-all it was a great night.

The one low light: about fifteen minutes into the first act a couple is seated during the late seating break. They have the seats directly in front of us, which also happens to be two down from the playwright and director, and right behind a slew of Woolly folks. And they sit down and immediately the woman turns to her date and starts whispering her way through a full fledged conversation.

Jackie-L and I looked at each other. Was this really happening? I think--well, they'll stop once we get back into the dialogue again (I think it was during a quick scene shift) but no. They keep going. She whispers something, he turns back to her and whispers a response.

The incredible hulk like reaction that rises in me at these moments came on fast and furious and before I knew what was happening I had reached up and slapped the guy on the back of his arm (which was wrapped around his girly-girl's shoulders).

I slapped him hard. I think I shushed him too, which is so totally obnoxious.

Now, it is at these moments that I am suddenly aware that I may have made things much, much worse rather than improving anything.

Fortunately this guy seemed to take the hint and actually quieted his girlfriend himself:

Subtext of his own shushing:

"Hey honey, apparently at live theater the people around us DON'T LIKE when we talk about how great dinner was in the middle of the set up for the entire play that we've already disrupted by arriving late and making everyone stand up while we slide into our seats in the middle of the row. I guess SOME PEOPLE want to FOLLOW THE STORY LINE OF THE SHOW. So pedestrian. Now sidle over to me so I can RUB YOUR LEG FOR THE DURATION OF THE PLAY ideally within the sightline of the people behind me who WISH they weren't distracted by every motion in their line of vision but can't help but be taken out every time I RUB YOUR LEG AGAIN AND AGAIN because after all we are at the theater and I DON'T WANT TO STOP TOUCHING YOU EVEN FOR ONE MOMENT because we are so IN LOVE."

Whatever.

Of course at the reception I ran into them over and over and over again.

I have a real problem with this. At the closing show of Dali the woman two down from me started blowing her nose, as I recall--during the third scene which was all difficult and quiet and subtle and delicate. She blew it once and I was like, "Okay, not her fault, she has some sort of upper respiratory thing. She can't help it". But then she blew it again. And again. At this point she was doing sinus maintenance. "It's all clear now, but I might as well blow it a few more times to make sure it stays clear for the rest of the day".

It was kind of unbelievable.

I turned and stared at her. Bored my eyes into her skull. Wished disasters and plagues upon her and her children and her children's children.

She didn't notice. Her date, who was sitting next to me, did.

He looked uncomfortable and glanced back and forth between my death gaze and his unsuspecting sweetheart several times. Then she put the tissue away.

I thought about saying something after the show but didn't think it was the battle I needed to fight.

I know things happen. I know people sneeze and shift and cough in the theater. I am okay with that. I even know that cell phones sometimes get left on and as awful as that is, as long as they get shut off right away I will not wish a lifetime of misery on you.

But when sustained distractions happen. Where you do it once, then you do it again, and again, and again? Yeah, unforgivable.

I didn't really intend to tell that whole story but there it is. More fun stories that I need to tell: about getting hit on by a woman for the first time on friday night and about my reunion with my class from U of M on monday night.