Encounter at the Symphony Ch. 01

David confronts a thief brandishing a knife to retrieve a purse stolen from a lady.

Something that I never expected and that caught me by surprise, I witnessed a crime, at of all places, at the symphony. An affront to who I am, feeling personally violated, I was angered that he'd disrespect such a beautiful institution by defiling it with his common thievery. Not allowing the man to get away, ready to teach him a lesson, he was going down, and I'm the one to take him down.

As if I'm Denzel Washington as Robert McCall in the Equalizer, a highly trained commando, who gave victims the benefit and the satisfaction of his fair fight help, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Trained in Kenjutsu, not only the use of the samurai sword but also the knife, the stick, and the open hand arts. I'm disciplined and skilled in self-defense techniques. I'm always ready to put my skills to good use in real life situations even when facing a knife wielding thief.

# # #

It all started one bright and sunny day. The birds were singing and I was in a good mood. Tired of staying home and doing nothing, I wanted to do something different other than wandering my house. Bored to death, I needed to break my routine. An advertisement on television caught my interest. The informercial on Public Service television advertised symphonic DVD's given to donors for donations. The ad motivated me to attend the symphony.

Having never been to the symphony, something that I had always wanted to do, I've always wanted to go. Yet, hating to go alone, more enjoyable when going with a friend, I wished that I had someone to go with to the symphony. Thinking of all the people that I knew from my work, from my dojo, and from my past, I quickly scrolled through anyone that I thought who may be interested in going with me to the symphony.

Unfortunately, with everyone busy with their own lives, with work, with nagging wives, and with demanding children, no one came to mind. Having divorced my wife years ago, and with us not having any children, seemingly, I was the only one who had the free time enough to attend the symphony. Yet, no matter. Better off alone, I usually did everything alone.

I could donate to the symphony and send away for the DVD's. Then, when they arrived, I could stay home while watching the symphony on television and listening to the symphony on my speakers but I wanted to go there. I wanted to see the symphony in person.

Watching the symphony on television, even on a big screen television with speakers, is not nearly the same as being there. Hearing the orchestra playing their music on television is one thing but feeling the music wafting through the huge, concert hall live is something else entirely. As if something haunted me to go, I needed to go to the symphony.

A moving experience and a total body sensation, there's nothing else like it when listening to the symphony orchestra in person. The entire orchestra playing in unison in volume, in softness, and in perfect timing attacked my senses in the way of a Kenjutsu, live blade match. Even if I ventured there alone, I needed to attend the symphony.

# # #

Unfortunately, with me a loner, in recent years, more like a hermit while hiding in my house, I didn't have any friends. With my family continually moving around the country for my father's work, I found myself in a new school nearly every year. With me always the tallest boy in class, sticking out to show that I didn't belong there, not wanting anyone to know that I had a speech impediment, remaining silent instead of talking, it was hard for me to make new friends.

Kind of a nerd in high school, back then, before no bullying policies were established, when nerds were bullied and beaten up by jocks and popular kids, my height saved me. More intimidating than they were, I was taller than they were. Nonetheless, keeping to myself, I ate my lunch alone. Besides, I knew that I wouldn't be at that school long. I'd be transferring to a new school as soon as my father's company transferred him again.

Before personal computers, tablets, smartphones, and the Internet, with my pocket protector, my Texas instruments calculator, and my slide rule proudly displayed, even back then, I fit the bill as a nerd. Even now, especially now, with my life continuing in that lonely vein, sadly and depressingly, I had no one to ask to go to the symphony with me. Even though I searched my mind again thinking of someone who'd like to attend the symphony with me, I had no one to ask.

Preferably, my perfect date, I'd much rather go to the symphony with a woman, a beautiful, sexy, and shapely woman, than with a man. Only, I didn't have a woman in mind to ask. As shy as I was clumsy in introducing myself to the opposite sex, I wasn't smooth or suave in meeting women.

Picking up women was never my thing. Talking to women proved difficult. I don't know how I ever established and maintained a relationship with my ex-wife but, somehow, I did. Actually, now that I think about it, she was as much of a nerd as I was.

I'm not the kind of man that women would fall in love with at first sight, I wasn't the type of man who women dated. Not that I wasn't good looking, I was just inept when it came to the opposite sex. Not knowing what to say, with me not carrying my side of the interaction, the conversation always stalled before petering away. Cocktail parties were my social nightmares. More comfortable sitting in a chair in the corner while people watching, I'd rather remain silently aloof.

While waiting for women to approach me, unfortunately, unless they were a little drunk, they seldom made the first, sexual moves. Most women wanted to be swept off their feet and romanced by the words and/or the physical actions of men. With me awkwardly uncomfortable when trying to make conversation with the opposite sex, I didn't know how to do that.

Stumbling over my words, I never knew what to say. Always too nervous, I seldom made a good, first impression. I was never the one chosen to make a presentation at work.

Yet, now that I think of it, hard for me to believe, not dating after my divorce, never mind having a sexual relationship, I haven't had a date with a woman in fifteen-years. The last time that I had sex was when I danced with a woman at a bar. Even then, she made more moves to sexually seduce me than I made to sexually seduce her.

Perhaps, because I had a few drinks, and felt more relaxed than nervous, I danced as if I was John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. I loved to dance. Surprisingly, with her taking the lead, she agreed to spend the night with me at my brother's house where I temporarily lived until I found my own place.

# # #

A bit depressing to admit, I was 50-years-old the last time that I had sex. Fifteen-years later, now that I'm 65-years-old, a big deal, a huge deal, I'm glad that I can still get and maintain an erection. Yet, getting and maintaining an erection, other than masturbating myself, isn't any good if I don't have a woman who's willing to have sex with me. Now that I'm considered elderly by AARP and Social Security standards, I wondered if I should hang around in front of a nursing home while hoping that my true love will emerge with her walker.

'I need a woman. I need to have sex,' I thought while thinking of all of the woman that I've seen on the street and even in my neighborhood that I feared to approach.

Even at my age, I'm still sexually shy and uncomfortable conversing with women. Even with my three degrees in Engineering, unless they share my love for engineering, my extensive education isn't of any help when bedding a woman. Perhaps, with me mingling by attending the symphony, I'll meet someone of interest to date.

'Who knows,' I thought? 'Maybe, I'll get lucky.'

I thought of my life passing me by. Where did the time go? No longer able to remember the name of the woman at the bar or the details of her naked body, as if it never happened, sex is just a distant memory. Fifteen-years is a long time to go without having sex other than masturbating myself.

Yet, a distant second, masturbation is not nearly the same as having a sexual relationship with a sexy and shapely, beautiful woman. Unfortunately, now that I'm older, the women who may be sexually attracted to me are short and fat and no longer interested in sex. With them all single mothers, they're just looking for someone to help them support their brood of children. Besides, someone who didn't take pride in their appearance enough to diet, exercise, and lose weight, is not my type of woman.

# # #

Nonetheless, a simple pleasure of life, and a way to get me out of the house and to socialize with people, a harmless adventure, I was excited about attending the symphony, even if I had to go alone. Having my food delivered, and other than going to the bank, still working from home, I haven't left my house in years. In the way that Howard Hughes lived on the entire, top floor of the Desert Inn in Las Vegas, when asked to leave by the owner, Moe Dalitz, because of the anticipated arrival of the 'high rollers,' Howard bought the hotel.

Sadly, I've become a recluse. In the way that Howard Hughes had a germ phobia and an obsession for cleanliness, I'll soon be walking around my house wearing a diaper and using empty, Kleenex boxes as slippers. Yet, before he lost his mind, something that I've yet to have, at least Howard Hughes had a varied and fulfilling, sex life. With him carrying on affairs with sixty-three famous women, I don't know how he found the time to build and fly the Spruce Goose.

He dated Jean Peters, Marlene Dietrick, Rita Hayworth, Virginia Mayo, Ann Miller, Ava Gardner, Yvonne De Carlo, Lana Turner, Gloria Vanderbilt, and Jane Russell. He also dated Shelley Winters, Cyd Charisse, Olivia de Havilland, Joan Fontaine, Gene Tierney, Bette Davis, Barbara Stanwyck, Katharine Hepburn, and Ingrid Bergman. Last but hardly not least, he dated Carole Lombard, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Ginger Rogers, Ida Lupino, Jean Harlow, Joan Crawford, Veronica Lake, Marilyn Monroe, and thirty-six other lesser known starlets. Howard was also rumored to have had sex with Cary Grant, David Bacon, and Errol Flynn.

Nonetheless, something new to be enthusiastic about and to look forward to, forgetting my sadness about not having had a sexual relationship in so very long, I was excited about going to the symphony. Something that I loved to experience, I couldn't wait to hear the symphonic, music of the orchestra live. Hoping that I didn't get a seat so far in the back that I couldn't see, I hoped to have a good look of the orchestra members playing their instruments.

# # #

'The symphony,' I thought as if I was a child going to a toy store or a candy store! 'I'm off to see the symphony,' I thought as if I was off to see the wizard in the Wizard of Oz!'

Just saying the symphony, a magical word, evoked a cacophony of rich, musical sounds to delight my ears and entertain my senses. I love most all types of music from pop to rock, to country, to R & B, to folk, to soul, to disco, to jazz, and to classical music. With music soothing the soul, and evoking passion in other things, the only music that I'm not a big fan of are marching bands.

Not an admirer of parades, I never developed an ear for big drums banging by me with legions of people marching, wearing uniforms, and playing songs that I've heard too many times. People wearing uniforms while marching evoked memories of Hitler and Nazi Germany. Now, people wearing uniforms while marching evoked memories of North Korea and Kim Jong-Un. Except for the marching bands, I do love the Macy's Day Parade with all of those huge balloons floating high up in the sky down New York's 34th Street.

Actually, the only people that I loved wearing uniforms, other than Hooter's female employees and Playboy Bunnies, are cheerleaders at professional football games. Now, they knew how to fill out a uniform. If they played symphonic music in the background, I could watch professional cheerleaders in their skimpy outfits, dancing, jumping, and leaping all day.

'Now that I think of it, something that would deliver more men to the symphony, how hot would that be to have cheerleaders doing their thing while the orchestra played in the background,' I thought?

Of course, not verbalizing their cheers while the orchestra played, they'd have to quietly jump and leap around the stage in the way of a sexy, ballet dancer. If the symphony had cheerleaders in the way that football games do, more men would want to buy tickets to the symphony.

# # #

'Honey, where are you going all dressed up in your good suit,' I imagined a wife asking her husband?

I imagined him giving her a big smile and a kiss on the cheek.

'I'm going to watch the cheerleaders, I mean, um, I'm going to listen to the symphony,' I imagined him saying.

I imagined his wife making a face.

'The symphony? You? Since when do you enjoy going to the symphony? Other than lusting over Heidi Klum and Sofia Vergara when watching America's Got Talent, the only thing that you watch on television is football. Maybe, I'd like to go, too,' I imagined her saying.

I imagined him running out the door.

'Next time, honey. Next time,' I imagined him saying as he left her behind. "I'm running late. I have to go. Bye."

# # #

Having fiddled with guitar and piano, I can play simple chords and songs on both instruments but I'm not a musician. I won't be going on America's Got Talent any day soon. Nonetheless, I appreciated the talent that the members of the orchestra had to have to be hired to play in the symphony. Especially when an orchestra comes together to play, between the strings, the brass, the woodwinds, the percussion, and the keyboards, rich and full, and unlike anything else, again, symphonic music is something that I could listen to all day.

Yet, unlike those rich people who dressed up to go to the symphony, I wasn't one of them. I've heard that some of the super wealthy bring a member of their staff to serve them champagne and canapes while sitting in their private boxes and booths. With them all seemingly having such a good time talking and laughing, and with me seated way in the back of the concert hall and out of sight, once again, I felt left out and isolated. Nonetheless, even at that great distance, because of the wonderful acoustics of the concert hall, the music of a full orchestra music is amazing.

With men in their black, custom tailored, and fitted tuxedos, and women in their long, beautiful, designer gowns, and with their hair and makeup professionally done, they sparkled by wearing their expensive jewelry. Seemingly, one thing that they had in common, they all had that rich smell of success by wearing their imported, French perfumes and colognes. Feeling underdressed, I wore my navy-blue suit with a light blue shirt and a matching tie. I sprayed on my fifteen-year-old Polo cologne that I hoped hadn't gone bad.

My best suit and my most expensive off-the-rack suit that I had hidden in the back of my closet, I wore this suit for special occasions. Only, with my suit hanging there as long as I haven't had sex, it was a reminder that I hadn't been to any special occasions in fifteen-years. Funerals were the only occasions where I was welcome to attend. And, of course, I'd wear my black suit.

Yet, today was the day. Today was a very special day. Today was the day that I'd be smiling from ear-to-ear. Today, I'll be leaving my house and attending the symphony.

Leaving my house to attend the symphony was, definitely, a special occasion for me. Attending the symphony would be something that I'd remember for the rest of my life. I only wished that I had gone years ago. I only wished that I had a woman to take with me to the symphony.

'As if she was a princess with her hair and makeup beautiful done, how hot would that be to sit with a beautiful woman wearing a low-cut gown decorated with sparkling jewelry while enjoying the symphony,' I thought?

Yet, looking like one of the peasants sitting in the cheap seats, I looked dressed but not formally dressed in the way that the other men looked wearing their tuxedos. For sure, with me just an average Joe, nothing special about me except for me being tall, no one would mistake me for being rich. Yet, I did press my pants to have a sharp crease on each leg and polished my black shoes to a high, military shine. Even if no one felt good about me, all that mattered, I felt good about myself.

# # #

Then, hard to miss, I saw something out of place. Immediately, my attention perked up to a high degree and my awareness to a high level. As if on the lookout, suddenly, I had the keen eye and the self-preservation instincts of a street cop. Hard not to notice him, it was during the intermission that I noticed a man who clearly didn't belong there. Dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, a dirty baseball cap, and sneakers, he looked out of place while slowly making his way through the crowd.

Somehow, perhaps through an unlocked, backdoor in the alleyway, he had gained entry to the symphony without buying a ticket. By the look of him, I didn't think that he could afford to buy a ticket. No doubt, not why he was there, with the musical arrangement over his head, he'd rather buy drugs or booze rather than to listen to symphonic, orchestra music.

Most of the people who are able to afford a season ticket to attend the symphony, along with a private box, or a private booth, and such fine clothes as tuxedos, gowns, and expensive jewelry are from another stratosphere. Either they were born with money, inherited money, or amassed self-made fortunes. Nothing like me, most of these wealthy people didn't grow up on the mean, city streets like me.

Most of these rich and privileged people didn't experience the hard life in the way that I did. Yet, a blessing in disguise, something that always came to my rescue, I had my street smarts and my self-preservation instincts to protect me from harm and they didn't. Everyone is blessed with self-preservation instincts, but few listen to them. If it doesn't look right, it's not right. With them not noticing the obvious, they are what I called victims.

With the rest of the rich and privileged folk busy talking and drinking their drinks at intermission while unaware that a crime was about to take place, I kept my eyes glued on the guy who was out of place. Knowing that he was up to something, no doubt, something no good, with it just a matter of time for him to make a mistake, I was ready to intercede. Taking it upon myself, I was prepared to stop him. Reading him as if I read a book, I watched him studying people while looking for his victim.

# # #

He had his eye on a tall, redheaded, attractive woman wearing a beautiful, dark, emerald, green gown. As soon as she put her purse down on the concession counter to fuss with her hair, as if he was a snake lunging at his prey, he grabbed her purse, and was off with it. With her not a victim and with her not oblivious to such things as many of the others were, she not only immediately noticed her missing purse but also, she saw him take it.

"Hey! Stop that man! Help! Thief! Someone help! He took my purse," she screamed! "Thief! Thief! Someone stop him! He stole my purse! He stole my purse!"

Typical of this bunch, none of them possessed any street smarts or common sense. With her calling more attention to herself than the man had called attention to himself, instead of looking at the thief, everyone looked at her. Yet, with me different from them, instead of focusing my attention on her, I kept a watchful eye on him. I memorized his physical details to describe him to the police and to pick him out of a police lineup. I continued watching the criminal.

After having watched this unfold, ready for him, with me alighting from the cheap seats, and perfectly positioned, I stood ready at the back of the crowd to intercept him. With no one else coming to her aid, the woman continued screaming for help in the background. Only, other than consoling her, no one responded to her pleas for help in retrieving her stolen purse.