Strategies for reclaiming your seat
Greetings from the Ridge.
As global warming continues to raise its hoary head and threaten our extinction, terrorists plot to destroy the Western World, and ingrown toenails now afflict 21% of our population, I know that there are larger matters confronting us than what seems to be bothering me at the moment, but dog-gone it, move over!
It happened again last week. I’d paid big bucks for tickets to a Broadway-bound show and took my front row seat in the 2,000-seat auditorium. Herb was indisposed that night, meaning that the show ran past his 9 p.m. bedtime so I was flying solo. I’d just plopped down and had begun to peruse my program when Bubba One landed in the seat beside me. He was a good old boy who weighed in somewhere just short of the size of a Chevy S-10. This was going to be an uncomfortable evening, so I skootched over to give him as much room as possible. That’s when Bubba Two came in for a landing on my right. Bubba Two was obviously seeing his first professional show since everything seemed to be new to him, including how to sit in a seat. B2 crashed into the landing area beside me, mistaking the small theatre seat for his easy chair at home. I in no way intend to criticize anyone’s bulk, simply the way they handle it. B2 began spreading out like melting butter as soon as he hit the seat. I swear the man’s original shape began to ooze as his frame took over more and more of the seat that I’d paid for. Meanwhile B1 had taken complete ownership of our joint armrest. B2’s armrest had disappeared from sight by the time the orchestra struck up the overture.