The power couple

The 2,000 seat auditorium is filling fast. Two minutes or so to go before the start of the concert. All the seats in our row are occupied except for the two to my left which adjoin the side wall so their occupants, if any, will need to squeeze past the full row to reach them.

Late arrivals are streaming down the aisles then doing the sideways crab crawl to their seats.

Then they appear. The power couple.

He is in his mid-twenties, growing a thin moustache which is barely hairier than his 8pm shadow. He is wearing a skinny suit, slightly crimped behind the knee joints from tightness and day long wear. He has slip on shoes and is either stocking-less or wearing skin toned socks. He looks like lamb posing as debonair mutton.

On this winter’s night she is dressed for a balmy summer’s evening on a verandah wearing a loose short sleeve pastel coloured blouse, light skinny jeans and towering stilettos.

Both carry auditorium friendly tiny plastic cups containing red wine. As each of us in the row stands in turn the couple slides by careful not to spill a drop of wine. They are not so much protective of our clothing but of the minuscule amount which surely won’t last till interval.

They take their seats at the row’s end and, entrance made, they share a whisper.

Fifteen seconds pass by, 105 seconds now to performance time. Nothing has happened yet, so she decides it is time to make her way out minus the plastic cup and wine. I decide on a semi raise rather than a full raise and she exercises additional caution to avoid my protruding knees. The others in the row take my cue and follow with semi raises of their own. She ambles off casually into the flow of other latecomers, smaller numbers now, who are almost racing down the aisles to reach their seats.

Another fifteen seconds passes. Although no-one in my hearing has said a word, it seems he feels the need to make an announcement. Apparently speaking to no-one in particular but everyone in general he says ‘I saw Ramin in back to back concerts in New York last year and he...is...ah...may...zing.’

‘Oh really?’ is the response from the row behind.

‘Ah...may...zing’, he reiterates.

‘And I saw Anna on her opening night at the Regent’, he adds.

No response from anyone. Maybe nobody is interested in Anna?

Sixty seconds to performance time.

She has reappeared and the audience member on the aisle decides not to rise; not even a semi rise. Each of us in turn, as though by unspoken concensus, follows suit. This slows her progress but undaunted she continues with ostentatious care to ensure her summery skinny jeans make no contact with the roughage of our wintery apparel.

Thus reunited, the power couple is ready. The auditorium lights are extinguished. The concert can commence.