I’ve never been to a gala before. I figure since I bought a whole season’s worth of tickets to the ballet, I might as well go ahead and splurge for the pricey pre-season gala. I paid $75 for a ticket in the balcony! Happily, I was in the front row. Even that far up and close to the ceiling, if you have front row seats, it doesn’t matter what section you’re in; you’re pretty much golden. Unobstructed view. I was thinking this during tonight’s performance. I had a great seat, great view, but I bought very expensive box seat season tickets. Go figure. The ballet starts this coming Tuesday at 8pm. Tuesdays are my night. Looking forward to the 75th anniversary season.
I go to the ballet solo. All by my lonesome which I don’t mind. Lately I’ve lost my lust for romance. Maybe it’s the cold weather. All I want to do is drink my own bottle of wine and sit on the couch with my space heater right in front of me. The ballet gala celebration is one of the biggest social events in San Francisco. And I’d never been before. I should be excited, perky, ready to pounce on the richies in their tuxedos, right? Not really. I grabbed my program and studied astutely the dances, the dancers, the composers, the choreographers. While fixated on my program, I heard someone ask me a question, “Do you come to these galas all the time?” I looked up to a smiling black guy–damn good looking.
“First one actually. God, there are a lot of people here. Do you come to the ballet all the time?”
“Yeah, I went through the ballet school. I dance for Smuin now.”
“Wow, that’s cool! Great company.”
He was really sweet and walked me through the interesting details of the program. “Oh watch out for that one. Someone who’s choreographed for Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake did that one, specially made for tonight.”
“OmiGOD that is so cool. So it’s like really modern.”
“More like hip-hop. I’m talking HIP-HOP, girlfriend.”
After we parted ways, I thought. Yeah, ok, I haven’t lost that loving feeling. I still have a romantic streak. All is not lost. I peered down from the second floor balcony onto the main floor. Hundreds of people were milling about.
Let’s see if I can make this work; I wanted to play a game. Bingo. I zeroed in on a good-looking guy probably in his late thirties with two friends–a much older woman and another guy his age. The three of them were standing by a pillar sipping champagne and chatting. That’s him. Ready, set, go. I descended the staircase, walked over to the pillar, and passed directly in front of him. I could see his head turn and follow me as I walked over to the main table where champagne had been set out for all of the gala attendees. I grabbed my glass of champagne and headed back around in the same direction. He continued to stare at me with his head turning as I walked further away. I was elated.
Then I turned around, locked eyes with him and winked. I just as quickly turned around again and ascended the stairs, smirking the whole way to my seat.
And that, my friends, is the start of the ballet season.