I had more plans to plug on through the “songs from musicals” series, but after this week I just didn’t feel like it. It’ll return over the weekend or at the beginning of next week.
A week ago, Friday night, we headed to the Civic Center Music Hall to see Jerry Seinfeld. He was fantastic! Now that I’m an adult I tend to go into things with much lower expectations. I think it’s some kind of defense mechanism against being disappointed.
I bought the tickets as a surprise back when I got one of my first paychecks from the new writing gig and I was a little concerned about how the situation was going to turn out. See, the tickets had been on sale a week already and I had to wait until I had enough money in my account to buy them, and by the time I did there were like 8 seats left in the entire place.
EIGHT.
All of the really cheap ones were gone (and honestly, Civic Center? There were only like 2 rows of the cheap seats) so I was already going to have to pay $20 more per ticket. There were only 2 open seats that were anywhere near each other and they had two filled seats between them. It had to be a couple, or two singles who purchased seats next to each other. Surely they would let us sit together.
I bought them. Of course, a few days later when the show was sold out they scheduled a second show after the first because of the popularity, but I’m an old lady and I can’t even remember the last time I went to something that started after 8pm, much less 9:30, so that wasn’t an option.
The day of the show arrived and I donned my new Ariel scarf, ready to sit for an hour or so and laugh, determined to enjoy myself.
But if I’m honest with you? I was a little worried for weeks beforehand. I mean, the two people between us would be kind and let us sit together, right? They had every right not to. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head.
What if they aren’t together and just want to sit in the seats that they bought?
What if they’re like Sheldon Cooper and have determined the acoustic sweet spot and that’s where they’re sitting no matter what?
What if they’re just jerks?
What if…come on, it IS a Seinfeld show and this is exactly the sort of situation I could see Jerry and Elaine finding themselves in.
We arrived, took the stairs (and HELLO that is a workout in 3.5 inch heels), and found our seats. We waited and waited and waited. I’d told Kevin he was in charge of this negotiation because me and even the idea of confrontation don’t get along. (Unless you are Mathis Bros Furniture, then all bets are off). It was almost time for the show to start and still, no G8 and G9 (we were G7 and G10). I started to get comfy. Maybe they decided not to show.
And then I saw them. Creeping down the aisle, trying not to slosh their beers around. The lights were already dimming when they made it to our row and I think they would have taken their seats and not known any better since they were the only two empty ones. They sat and Kevin leaned over to the man and asked if it would be okay if we just kept G9 and G10. Honestly, I’m not even sure that the guy heard because the applause was starting for the first act.
So, like many of my life situations that I expect to end with the crashing of cymbals and all kinds of calamity…everything was fine.
That’s what Jerry looked like from where we sat. Since I’ve been watching him on TV almost every day for the past 10 years, and frequently converse with the people I see on my TV, I had to fight the urge to respond to some of the things he would say. Now, I was a loooong way away so a) he would not have heard me and b) I would have just seemed like the crazy lady shouting things from the audience. But it’s another thing that, well, maybe it doesn’t prove this, but I think it sorta reinforces this thought that I’ve had for a while — I don’t think I get star struck. Like…at all. I mean, who gets the urge to shout at someone in a crowded room like they know them, when they don’t know them?
Not getting star struck may have something to do with my issue with not wanting to annoy them in public, but I’m thinking that shouting from the audience is pretty counterintuitive on that point.
And maybe it’s not that I don’t get star struck, it’s just that I’ve got worked out in my head that they are way more likely to become my friend in real life if I just act normal around them. Right? That’s what I thought.
Oklahoma girl through-and-through. Writer, aspiring domestic goddess and totalitarian dictator. Taking on the world one carb-induced coma at a time. Co-host of Picture Shows & Petticoats. 
