“Sir, would you put your cellphone away, please?”
Carl looked at the usher. The symphony actually had ushers. Who knew? “What? No, I’m not recording.” He showed the screen to the usher: symfny dznt suk who nu. “I’m texting a friend how good this is.”
The usher frowned. “It’s not appropriate to text during the performance.”
Carl looked around. A few people were scowling his way, but most were focused on the musicians. Several had their eyes closed, gently nodding their heads in time to the music. One elderly lady was obviously asleep. “I’m not disturbing anyone.”
The usher persisted. “It’s not appropriate.”
“Fine, I’ll go to the lobby.”
“The foyer. And it’s not appropriate to leave during the performance.”
Carl put his phone away. The usher stalked back up the aisle.
On the stage a woman was straddling a big violin. She sounded alright, Carl supposed, if you were into that kind of thing.
He looked at his program. “One night only: Darleigh Karaminsky, Cellist.” He tried to read the awards and citations she’d received, but between the minuscule typeface and low light in the concert hall, he couldn’t make them out. He fished his phone out of his pocket in order to shine its light on the page, but first looked over his shoulder. The usher stood in the semi-darkness beside the exit door. Carl was pretty sure the usher was staring at him.
He put his phone away, slumped in his seat, and waited for the intermission.
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