How does she find them?

Friday night found the Redhead Editor, daughter, sister, and brother-in-law at Dorothy's play to which she was working "fly," the position in backstage theater that brings things down from on high. It was a production of "Appointment with Death." The weather was cold, and this was the postponed play from October so not many people were in the theater. A middle-aged gentleman with a bouquet of roses said "excuse me" before squeezing past us, and my sister said hello to them. What a coincidence. They had gone to high school together 40 years ago (in "outstate" Missouri). He sat down a seat away from Mabel.

The play begins. Intermission. Starts up again. Mabel taps my arms to show me that father with flowers has nodded off. Pretty soon she started laughing, her body shaking with giggles. People started looking her direction, and I socked her with my elbow and told her to grow up or some such thing. More staring, and then I realized he was snoring so loudly and the stares weren't for her giggles, but for his hibernating bear-life noise coming from his orifices. His daughter had one of the leads in the play and I was embarrassed for her yet very sympathetic for this man, still in his suit from work nodding off on a Friday night. But for the grace of God go I, as my mother would remind me. The young woman in front of us, a sister of another cast member, kept jabbing his knee to wake him up and then whipping around so he didn't know who poked him. Wonder if he thought it was Mabel. Tears were rolling down her face in laughter.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon while Dorothy is at the closing performance at the play while Redhead Editor's family attended Hotel Rwanda. If you have not seen this movie, drop everything and get there now. It is very difficult to watch, but you must. It's only showing in one theater in St. Louis so it was packed. Packed. Families separated by inconsiderate people who take their 2 seats in the middle of the rows. People shoulder deep. Probably 500 people. Ok, I exaggerate. I assured Mabel that the audience at this theater would not be the rude movie audience of Crestwood, Ronnies, or Des Peres because this was an artsy fartsy theater, and the movie-goers meant business. Within 20 minutes, the man next to Mabel must add something to the plot and with his face forward, instead of leaning next to the woman he was talking to (his mother, his wife, his hooker, as Mabel said), talked in a normal speaking voice as if we had invaded HIS livingroom. I BET HE'S DRIVING OVER BODIES. (He was.) I BET SHE WENT TO THE ROOF. (She hadn't.) LOOK UNDER THE BED. (They weren't there.) I wanted to tell him Shhhhhhh like my sister would have had she been there, but I was so afraid that as loud as he was in conversation, he would have attacked me, and I will admit that I was a little afraid of him. At one point, he belched... not a demure burp, but a fraternity beer belch. She, of course, started giggling like she had Friday evening with Mr. Snores-a-Lot. At 21, she can still be so immature.

Afterwards, we all headed to the bathroom and I saw Mr. I CAN TALK AS LOUD AS I CAN DURING A MOVIE and gave him the evil eye. I'm sure he knew what I was thinking.