Years ago, a co-worker was offered several tickets to see Deepak Chopra at Severance Hall in Cleveland. He offered me two tickets and I gladly accepted. I tried to convince my husband to go, but he had no interest. I gave him the this-can-improve-your-life plea, but he continued to decline. So I invited my friend Sharon. We looked forward to an evening out with perhaps some spirituality thrown in.
We arrived at Severance Hall and showed our tickets. The usher told us to continue walking up the stairs. We got to the next level, and the usher on that floor told us the same thing. We arrived at the next floor huffing and puffing and I told the usher there that he better not tell us to continue walking up another flight of stairs. He looked sheepish. I said so we have to continue walking, huh? And he smiled and said yes.
As it turned out, our seats were in the highest part of the concert hall, which is very high. OK, we had expected better but we still looked forward to this evening. Til we sat down. These seats had the smallest amount of leg room I have ever experienced. I am someone who needs to stretch her legs out frequently, and this wasn't working real well. We finally arranged it so that Sharon, who had an end seat, moved her legs to the aisle so that I could use her leg space for my legs.
Deepak started talking and told a few amusing stories that had the audience laughing. Then he got into the serious stuff. My mind started to wander. My mind has always wandered when I'm forced to sit and listen to someone, but I somehow thought this subject matter would engage me. Wrong. Several times I tried to pull my brain back in, but by that point, I had no idea what the man was talking about. That was when Sharon turned to me and whispered "I have no idea what he's talking about." I should add here that Sharon and I have a bad habit of laughing, uncontrollably, at the most inopportune times. Many years ago, we had gone to see Terms of Endearment, and the entire theater was in tears, and it struck us how funny it was that all these people had paid money to go and cry, and we became hysterical. In the midst of all the sniffling, you could hear our snorts as we told each other to shut up, because if one wouldn't stop, the other wouldn't stop.
So there we sat, in our tiny seats, laughing hysterically, as Deepak gave his words of wisdom to his large audience. We could not stop.
Intermission could not come soon enough. As soon as it came, we looked at each other and didn't have to say a word. We both stood up, grabbed our purses and walked out.
Down the many steps.
When we finally got to the bottom, there was a table set up, with Deepak. No people were there yet. He was there at intermission to sign books. And we had to walk right past him to get to our cars.
That got us started all over again.
