The theatre tickets cost a little
beyond my comfort zone, but I bought them.
The place was crowded, every seat filled with people shuffling with
their things, adjusting their coats, and I was hoping they’d settle down when
the curtain went up.
It seemed the moment the lights
went out and the curtain rose, a mosquito began to buzz my ear. I swatted my hand about, but without
success. It was a persistent little
critter. The first actor entered from
stage left. She seemed to be heading
towards a coffee table, center stage.
Again, the mosquito buzzed my
ear. Out of one hundred people, why me? Do mosquitos just know to head for me? A second actor entered, already speaking. I didn’t catch what they had said. I was too annoyed to pay attention.
The lady at the coffee table lit
a cigarette. Good, I thought, maybe the
smoke will chase this thing away. Sadly,
for me however, the other actor was a non-smoker, and snatched the cigarette
from her hand and snuffed it out into the ashtray.
“No!” I yelled, forgetting for the
moment where I was. The actors stopped
and looked out at me, and the audience broke into laughter.
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