Two years ago I had season tickets to our local theater company, but I let them lapse last year for some reason that is now not entirely clear. This year I’ve been buying tickets to individual productions, rather than committing to the complete season. This past weekend we saw Moliere’s The Miser, which I was not initially too eager to see. Period pieces don’t generally capture my attention, much less my imagination, and that seemed to be verified by the first act, which created just the right atmosphere for a short nap (the kind where you drift off for a longish time and then your head jerks in an unsightly manner, causing you to open your eyes and rapidly scan the area in case anyone caught you dozing). I was ready to leave at intermission (but only after a decaf cappuccino and chocolate chip cookie), but decided to persevere. The second act redeemed the play and the Main Line audience seemed to lose the stick that usually remains firmly planted up their collective ass long enough to laugh at the crude, bawdy humor.

I haven’t been downloading much from iTunes recently, although this weekend I did purchase Raul Malo’s version of Beautiful Dreamer, from a CD of Stephen Foster songs. Every so often I consult my iTunes Wish List to see if any of the songs I covet have been added to the available list (e.g., the Poozies’ Another Train, Nick Lowe’s All Men Are Liars, Loudon Wainwright’s I Wish I Was A Lesbian, etc.). Perhaps these belong to a certain category of songs that are destined not to be offered for download. Or maybe nobody else but me gives a crap about listening to them.

Today I am flying to Denver on one of the nearly-out-of-business air carriers that populate the air transportation landscape these days. As long as they honor my award tickets for our winter vacation, I’ll be happy. Short term goals seem appropriate given their current fiscal condition. Anyway, as push-back time approached and the plane appeared to be fully boarded, I overheard (sitting in the first row has more perks than just better legroom) the gate agent tell the chief flight attendant that there were 3 people who were running for the plane and who had originally been scheduled to sit in first class. His warning was that “there will be yelling”, and seemed to portend a great conflagration of argument from the dis-seated trio. The flight attendant subsequently played whisper-down-the-lane with the staff at the rear of the plane, and also notified the pilot. I’m surprised she didn’t alert the air marshals on board. The family group (father, mother, prep-school-looking son) bolted onto the plane with nary a complaint, although they did all look fairly harried. Since this flight took off reasonably early, it’s very unlikely that they had an earlier connecting flight. Rather, it’s probably the case that traffic was heavy, someone overslept, they had to return home to turn off the stove, or maybe to water Aunt Bertha before they left. I’m sure the tight-lipped recriminations were flowing between the three back-of-the-plane, middle-of-the-row seats to which they were relegated.