Arm Wars

Please sit down and enjoy the show....................

We enjoy live theatre and have season tickets to a world class playhouse.  Not only do we have a set date every 2 months, but something we both like . This months production of West Side Story was long anticipated and looked forward to.

We sit in the same seats for each performance. The seats were chosen for their location and position in the theatre where we could enjoy optimal viewing of stage and sound.

As we entered our row, Mr. Man noticed our seats were missing or occupied. It was a sold out performance, and we knew we were in the correct row. There were only two seats open, so I told him to just sit down, these were fine and there was no reason to make everybody start checking seat numbers and readjusting.

The woman sitting next to me asked if there was a problem? I told her  , "No, just a seat number confusion but its all good".  As we took our seats, the woman occupied the entire armrest and was seated , turned to her right and leaned over into my space as if she was seated on a lounging couch. Obviously, she has not been schooled in arm rest or seat etiquette?

As I sat down, her large purse/bag was in my foot space. I nudged it with my foot back into her space.

"THAT is a Gucci" she said. Whatever. Gucci was out of bounds and I flash her my winning smile and shrug.

Ironic that we are at a production featuring turf wars and lost love . 

 As the Jets and the Sharks start performing their sinister fight dance and finger snapping, I am engrossed in the arm rest war to my right. There is no way I am going to tolerate this woman leaning on me and dominating the arm rest for 2 full hours. I've done this dance before and no way will she win against my 100lb. body weight advantage against her glammed up figure and stick arm.

  We begin our silent war. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, the gentle pressure to push each other off began. I made a sudden jerky move with my shoulder, disguising it as a shocked laugh,  which caused her to change position- and in the split second her arm was off the rest, I moved in and clutched to it like a star fish on rock.

She made the sucking -seething sound with her teeth. I could feel her anger and resentment. Guess we're not going to be Besties.

I'm not sure if she was trying to punish me for sitting in the wrong seat or because her Gucci got the nudge. Regardless, she was ticked and it was eating at her. There was palpable annoyance emanating from her. Maybe she was an aspiring Thespian who didn't get cast in this play?

 I really didn't care too much about the arm rest after a while, because I leaned to my left onto Mr. Man and we cuddled throughout the rest of the first Act. Her "hmphf's" were only a source of amusement to me.

At intermission, most of our row of 60 left for the lobby. I opted to stay, and solve our seat mystery. Noted our seats were number 24 and 48 and out of sequence with the rest of the row. Obviously, something loathsome had happened to our original seats since we visited them in March, and these were their replacements. Mystery solved. Same location, different seats. Mr. Man was reassured upon his return. I remained standing to let the other patrons pass and sit down. My neighbor and her girl friend were returning, but changing tactics on the war front. She switched seats with her larger than me friend. Usually, big girls try to shrink themselves to occupy less room. This girl was going for the opposite. She too, leaned to her left, her shoulder now fully in my seat territory and her arm too! Another designer bag was also at my feet.  This tactical move didn't even faze me.

 I waited for her to settle in, sat down on top of her arm and kicked her purse aside toward her friend two seats over.

I don't think the girl was too vested in the arm rest war. She gave it up  pretty quickly, and leaned over toward my former neighbor. I may have smelled fear, but I know she was getting sweaty leaning against my overheated body.

Mr.Man and I  thoroughly enjoyed the remainder of the show.

 Although there was theatrical bloodshed and woeful singing, I realized there is a "Time for Us" and I'm part Jet and Shark, and no actual blood was let between me and the Seat Fighter.

There was no sorrowful good byes between any of us as we left the show. We can only hope these are not the season ticket holders for those seats for next season.

Until next time, I'll keep practicing my sinister finger snapping and the "Gucci Kick".... just in case!