Not a funeral, but still inappropriate. I was with my mother and sister at the symphony, acting appropriately and formally adult. Partway into the second piece, the soloist walks onto the stage and sits down in a chair directly in front of and facing the conductor. She then proceeds to sit there, staring at the conductor basically at crotch-level, hands folded primly in her lap, as the music plays on. Minutes pass and she sits there, completely immobile. More minutes pass, there is a pause in the music, it starts up again and yet she does not sing. All we can think about is this soloist. Why did she come out so early, is she really a soloist, is she ever going to sing? More minutes, and then, finally, she stirs – one hand slides out of her lap and dangles limply at her side. My sister stage-whispers across my mother to me, in her best David Letterman, “She’s HYP-MO-TIZED.” We lost it. We had to take turns scurrying to the lobby to stop laughing just to set each other off again when we sat back down. We haven’t gone to the symphony together since then which is just as well as they probably wouldn’t let us in.
I was at a school information night for students and parents who were interested in joining out ourdoor ed. group. The (new) principal of one of the schools got up to give a speech which is when I found out she had significant difficulty with pronouncing r.
Everything was going OK until I whispered to my friend next to me: “Should we ask her to pausewelease Wodger?”
At least three people had to leave the auditorium.
