Like a comet

Last night I took my sister to see the OKC Philharmonic, headlining Itzhak Perlman on violin. They first played Weinberger, then Mr. Perlman came on stage. Everyone stood to applaud, and as I watched him go on, I got chills. I couldn't believe this guy was...(let's see, back row of balcony...) standing a little less than a mile from me. He performed Mozart with the symphony. His solo parts were sweet, and I closed my eyes.

And jammed my finger into my left ear.

All around me were people who obviously wanted to be there, very quiet and still. Except the guy to my left. He brought his eight year old daughter who had a miserable cold. So my entire experience of the extraordinarily gifted, world famous violinist went like something like this...



...peppered with punctuations of this...



but it was that slurpy miserable nose-blowing...the worst nose-blowing of them all. Fortunately they left at the intermission. I was pissed, but went on to enjoy Tchaikovsky's Symphony in E minor, Op. 64. It was beautiful and intriguing. I've always loved Tchaikovsky, and last night I realized it was because he uses so many strings. The symphony had six bass, TEN cellos, and a thousand little violins.