Shakespeare in the Park Line

This is the chair I sat in while waiting for Shakespeare in the Park tickets. For 5 hours.

It reminded me of going to the beach. Okay, that's my beach chair, so that's kind of obvious. There was also a little sand in the chair, left over from the beach. But when I go to the beach, I pretty much sit in that chair. I don't mind. I like sitting in the chair.

Behind me in line was a woman with two girls, maybe 2- and 4-year-olds. She had Twister, puzzles, snacks, crayons, and so on. Each girl had two five-minute total meltdowns over the course of the morning, so overall that was pretty good. I asked the woman to let me know if I could help her out in any way, aside from making sure she got an award when the wait was over.

People kept asking me, many in foreign accents, what the line was for. I never summoned the nerve to lie. I'm pretty sure I would have made an inappropriate reference to Michael Jackson. I did consider, "Line? What line?" Couldn't do it. Character flaw.

At one point, a toddler in a stroller dropped an apple she was eating. Her mother didn't notice, but I saw the girl's hand reach plaintively out of the stroller, longing for the return of the apple. No luck, though, as the mother pushed her along. The apple sat there for about 20 minutes. I watched runners glance down to see what it was; I watched bikers swerve slightly to avoid it; I watched a tiny terrier on a leash use all his strength to pull his owner three feet to the right so the dog could grab a taste, to no avail. Finally, a 200 pound bulldog came within striking distance, grabbed the apple, bit off half of it, and left the other half rolling away. It came to rest in the road, and it remained uncrushed when the line finally started to move.

Forty-five minutes later, "Sorry, no more tickets. Thanks for coming."

Next time, I'm sitting 7 hours in that chair.