Tonight I got the chance to go see the Civil War up at the new Center Point Theater in the Davis County Arts Center. At least that's where I think we were.
I've seen the play three or four times before this, and I have to say that this one is my second favorite. The first time I saw it the whole experience hit me like a Mac Truck—right in the face and with force. I'm sure I cried like a baby. For whatever reason, war stories always do that to me, and the Civil War takes it to a whole new level. When I read the book The Killer Angels I started crying on the first page and kept it up until I got finished. Maybe I was there in a past life. Or I'm just a sucker for a man in uniform.
Anyway, I loved the performance tonight. Kudos to everyone involved.
Except for the man sitting next to me.
Men in general are intrusive. If a man sits next to me, he always seems to believe it's totally okay for him to fling his legs out and get in my space. Oh, except when it's a guy I like and want him to invade my space. That's the only time this doesn't happen. Space invasion with both the knee and shoulders.
Okay, guys have wide shoulders. I'm good with that. I'm even okay if they come over the line a little. Most of the time they're quite a bit taller than me so I don't have to fight for the space. But the leg thing. Ugh.
The guy tonight stood a good foot and a half taller than me. Lucky for him the theater is brand new and they have lots of leg room. Even with his long legs he still had a few inches before his knees touched the row of seats in front of us. However, the space must be cursed or something, because he refused to allow his knees anywhere close to it. Instead he felt it was okay to completely straddle his seat. Yes, his legs were spread apart so far that he actually had a third of the front of my seat behind his knee.
Really? I understand that guys don't sit with their legs together for a reason, but how much breathing space do the boys need? If my girls needed that much I'd be in real trouble. Heck the whole world would be in trouble.
I doubt any of my two followers are men, so this rant will go unheeded. But ladies, please let the boys know that women who don't know them probably don't want to rub legs with them during a play. Or ever, probably.
My one consultation—the guy broke down into tears during one of the songs. Hah! Take that.