Sunday, March 30, 2008

Last weekend while in DC, we took in a show in Bethesda called My Father's Jewish, My Mother's Italian and I'm in Therapy. It was very entertaining and funny and I'm glad we saw it, but that isn't the story. It's always a story with me, right?
We decided to go to the early show and then do dinner so we could get up early for our flight the next morning, so as a result the crowd at the 5pm showing was, shall we say, older. Like, they- ate-dinner-before-the-show-in-order-to-get-the-Early-Bird-Special-at-the-diner-down-the-street-old. So we're sitting there right before curtain, and the guy behind me says, "Can you scoot down in your seat so I can see?" First of all: Theatre Manners anyone? Secondly: I didn't even have my Mall hair on, so I don't see what the big whoop was! I'm not THAT tall and I don't sit in a booster seat at theatre events...much. But I compromised and scooched down just a bit. By the time intermission came around, I needed to sit up straight again and I figured maybe he would be okay with half of the show under his belt.
So the lights go down. All of the sudden I start feeling wind on the back of my head. Oscillating wind. The man was BLOWING ON MY HEAD to get me to scoot down again! Go ahead, pick up your jaw. After a few of these breezes, I shot a look behind me that most likely made him reach for his Life Alert button.

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