Toreador! Please don't grope me at the opera.

We went to see Carmen last night, since we were given tickets by friends who could not go due to a scheduling issue. They were really good seats, right on the edge of the upper loge. I haven't been to the opera since I was a teenager, and C had never been. It was just the thing to top off a day of high melodrama. [Thanks to J&T for the tickets and the advice that C not read the synopsis - I think he felt just the supertitling alone was too intrusive.]

The kid maintained a moderate level of activity throughout the performance, in decreasing order of activity: Act I, Act III, Act IV, Act II. [Act II was my least favorite too. The Gypsy dance should make you want to get up out of your chair; nothing really perked up until "Toreador" and that was because a wave of recognition went over the auditorium.] The movements were not quite as violent as they were during the last (bad) musical theater we saw, so hopefully that was approval.

I would also like to note my first "Oh my, you're pregnant," moment with a stranger. At the end of the second intermission, I needed to use the facilities and walk around a bit. As I was making my way down the stairs (which were not super steep but my balance has started to be a bit wonky so I was being cautious), there was an older woman who was leaning against the wall on the stairs. To be fair, throughout the night she seemed to be taking care of a much older woman and she looked at this moment like she was having a breather.

Mistah C (who had been walking on my left) steps ahead of me and down since there wasn't enough room for us to walk two abreast on the stairs with this woman leaning on the railing. I take my right hand off the railing, stepped to the left around the woman (which was not the most graceful movement with the balance issues in heels), and stepped carefully back towards the wall to my right. Once I pass in front of her, she has this panicked look of, "Oh, you're pregnant - and you're wobbly,"and makes a grab at my hand to steady me. Unfortunately, I am just stepping onto the next step down and she grabs my right breast instead.

"Oh, no thank you, that's very kind, I've got it," I say while she's grabbing at me, slip out of grasp and plod down the stairs. While on line for the restroom, the woman sees me and shrinks away, embarrassed. I tried to give her a benevolent smile, but my face might have been frozen into its "Will you be QUIET?" glare. (I do have a good look of death. Itchy woman with the loud pants behind me began a conversation with her neighbor during the start of the third act, and I turned around and glared so hard he stopped mid-sentence.) Honestly, she did mean well so I hope I did manage a forgiving smile at her.

So I apparently looked pregnant or klutzy or both. The poor woman.