A Night at the Theatre

First, let me say that I almost never stick up for myself. I HATE confrontation and avoid it at all cost. Even if it means giving in even when I know I'm right. I started crying one time at O'Charley's because Leo made me tell the waiter that he got my order wrong. I just feel so horrible telling someone that I think they messed up or they are wrong. So yeah, I don't like ruffling feathers...AT ALL.

That said:

I am a theater junkie. Especially musical theater. It started back when I was eight years old and my church did a presentation of "South Pacific" and I played the lead character's daughter. I memorized every word to that show, lines and music, at just eight years old. Since then, it has just grown and grown. I could probably sing you the words to every song in over 100 shows. The "Showtunes" genre on my Zune is easily 5 times bigger than any other genre on there. I know, I'm a geek. But I absolutely love it. The sets, the costumes, the lights, the stories, it is intoxicating to me.

My mom gets me (and herself) season tickets to the Fabulous Fox every year for Christmas. And I'm talking GOOD seats. The seats where you get to see the intricate beading on the costumes, every little detail of the set, and the beads of sweat on the actor's foreheads. I love our seats. And we have seen LOTS of shows. Let's say I know my way around the Fox, and I know where my seats, my beloved seats, are.

"Wicked" is in town this month. Our tickets were for last night. And while I do love this show (I've seen it several times now), I do...I tend to get a little "theatre snob" syndrome going on. I don't know what it is, but for some reason it makes me mad when people jump on a show bandwagon because it becomes a huge success, yet they know nothing of all the other equally, if not more amazing shows out there. Yeah, "Wicked" is a great show...but I don't even think it would make my top ten...and yet half of Atlanta was milling about the Fox trying to find their seats in the sold out show.

After the usher scans my ticket to get in I don't even look at it. We sit in the same seats every time. I know where I'm going. This particular night Lori, my sister, was with me, and my mom had gotten another ticket, but she wasn't sitting with us. So we separated in the lobby and told mom to meet me at our seats when it was over. I drug Lori past all the people waiting to be shown their seats and marched down to the front of the theatre. I pointed out our seats to her and she excused herself to the little girl's room. I continue on my bee-line for row J seat 65...where I sit for EVERY SHOW.

Ah, a lady is sitting in my seat. She's probably confused.

Heather: Excuse me... but what seat do you have?

Lady: Oh, am I in the wrong place?

Heather: I'm sorry, but I think this is my seat. Maybe you are down a couple.

Lady: But this is where my friend is sitting. (Pointing to the empty seat next to her.)

Heather: (growing frustrated because I have to be able to read everyone's bios in the Playbill BEFORE the show starts. And Confused Lady was cutting into reading time.) Well, maybe they are in your seats. (pointing to the couple in the next two chairs).

We go back and forth a bit and I keep reiterating that these are my season ticket seats.

Now everyone in the entire row is rummaging around looking at their tickets and checking the numbers on their chairs. They are comparing tickets and trying to talk me out of my stance. I am growing more and more annoyed with incompetent theatre-goers and my high-horse practically penetrated the atmosphere.

Heather: (now beginning to get a little more hostile) I sit here every show. These are my season tickets. These are my seats. (Clearly these people don't come here often...the one's I harbor secret snobbery toward, the ones who only know of "Phantom of the Opera" and "Les Mis" and "Wicked"...and now they are trying to take my kick-ass seats.)

Lady: Maybe your seats are on the other side?

Heather: (Again, growing increasingly impatient and slightly LOUDER) Ma'am these are my SEASON TICKETS. I SIT HERE EVERY SINGLE SHOW.

I basically snatch her ticket out of her hand and look at it. To my horror it says J 65. I could feel the blood flushing my face. I know what happened. Damn Ticketmaster double sold the seats. I was furious. I angerly climbed over the now full row of people witnessing my spectacle and march over to the usher.

Heather: (Now I am beyond angry. Looking back, I don't think I would have recognized myself the way I was talking to these people. Not rude, but very very direct....which I NEVER do.) Excuse me, these are my season ticket seats and these people have the same ticket. I sit here for every show that you guys have and are you going to tell me that now these people are going to sit in my seat? I COME TO EVERY SHOW AND SIT RIGHT HERE. So is this how it works? You just sell tickets and who ever shows up first gets them? ( I continue ranting, probably something to do with being a Fox Patron, season ticket holder, and sitting here every show.)

Usher: (obviously frightened and doesn't know how to respond to me...poor girl was just hired to show people where to sit, not to deal with irate "Season Ticket Holders".) Um, I'm sorry. You can go talk to the guy with the vest. (She points up the aisle.)

Heather: Oh, believe me. I will.

Before I went, though, I had to wait for Lori to return from the restroom because I didn't want her to have to face the angry mob alone like I just did. She was just a rookie herself. I was going to take care of this.

Standing in the aisle, 10 feet away from the orchestra pit I am standing, fuming, waiting for Lori. Mumbling things regarding "season tickets", "every show", and "always sit in these seats".

I look around and see just about everyone in my section's eyes are on me. I make contact with a couple that were looking at me with a bit of sympathy and I again reiterate for the onethousandth time that these were my season tickets and I know I'm in the right place.

Suddenly a thought crossed my mind.

Nooo.

Couldn't be.

I dig through my purse for my ticket.

I literally felt the blood rush from my head. I probably turned ghost white, and a little lump came to my throat, and everything got a little dizzy.

Through my blurry vision there it was.

J 64.

It was the first show of the new season... and yes, our seats had moved. They were the exact same, just mirrored. (At the Fox the even numbers are on the right side of center and the odd numbered seats are on the left.)

I was so embarrassed, I couldn't even apologize. I ran up the aisle with my tail between my legs praying to intercept Lori along the way. I finally found her, and guided her to the two empty seats on the other side of the theatre. Telling her of what had just gone down, and how awful I was, the ONE time I tried to stick up for myself.

I didn't have time to read the bios. But it WAS a great show. Even if I did have to climb on the bandwagon.