catheroominations

Inevitably in a class or seminar there is always one annoying person who asks the most questions, makes the most comments and generally slows down the pace of the class or seminar. Always there is this person. Why is that? Is there a club of these people and they sign up to sit in each of these classes or seminars? Every single day? Seriously. There is always just one. So they all must call each other to make sure that specific course is covered.

And at concerts there is always at least one person in the general vicinity who stands out. Whether they’re flailing about in an attempt to dance, or whistling loudly, or singing off-key, they’re there. And last night they were right there. Sitting next to me.

Oh, she was excited to see Lyle Lovett. It must be noted that the venue where Lyle plays is quite…sedate. Well, not sedate, but it’s not the type of place that lends itself to crowd surfing or even standing up until encore time when the place gets jumping. The Mountain Winery in Saratoga is a lovely, intimate place to see a concert, and most people are polite and mellow don’t cause a ruckus. But this woman in the seat next to mine was quite annoying as hell the character. She was dressed in all denim. Denim capris, denim (chambray really) short sleeved shirt with buttons down the front and some applique of some sort, and a denim baseball cap. Oh, and on her feet? Cowboy boots of course, because, duh. Lyle Lovett! But cowboy boots? With capris? Really?

I knew I was in trouble as soon as I took my seat. In a sea of concert goers, she was the only one with her arms up. I think her eyes were closed as she tipped her head back and swayed, as if in a religious trance of some sort. Fine, Lyle had a gospel choir backing him up, but this was Lyle Lovett and His Large Band, not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. She was so into her swaying, that a couple of times her arms smacked my head. So Matte gently tapped her arm so she’d sway back to the right, away from my skull. There was a lapse of time, and she said (finally), “Oh, sorry…next time I do that, just elbow me in the ribs.” Uhm, yeah. I wouldn’t be doing that, but thanks for snapping out of your hypnosis to realize there are people next to you whose personal space you are invading.

I can appreciate someone being into the music, but her reaction was just so odd for the tunes Lyle plays. The swaying stopped soon afterwards, but it was replaced by laughter. She laughed loudly at every lyric, even those that were not funny. And she’d laugh loudly, and look at me to see if I thought it was funny too. Usually it was not, but she looked for my approval at each guffaw, coming up empty every time.

After every song, she yelled “YAAAAAAAY!” and clapped and “YAAAAAAAY!” and said “Mighty fine. Mighty fine.” Adding, “that’s what we say in the Bluegrass country. Mighty fine.” Great. Thanks for that.

Oh, and the singing. She didn’t sing well. I preferred the laughter to the singing actually. But at least it kept her from talking to Lyle. We were not sitting close to the stage at all, but when Lyle spoke of performing since the 70’s and how a lot has happened since then, my seat neighbor reminded him, “Yeah, you’ve been married and divorced since then!” referring to Julia Roberts, of course.

My seat neighbor seemed drunk and smelled of Lancers and stale Pall Malls.

It wasn’t just me, either. She was quite noticeable to the rest of the crowd. People in front of us kept turning around to see who was being so loud. She didn’t seem to notice or care. She just kept up her conversations with herself (and Lyle although she could not hear). Her reactions were always delayed and awkward and she was driving me nuts. Lyle started one of his more famous hits, one that every Lyle fan recognizes at the first 2 notes or so. She didn’t react until he began to sing, when she again said, “Yaaaay!” and “That tickles my fancy!”

Her husband was sitting next to her the entire time, and not once did he say, “Calm down maude.* You’re making a scene.” I would hope, that if I were being that annoying, someone would tell me.

*That may or may not have been her name. But it probably was.