Aiding and Abetting

Our choral group was scheduled to sing at a retirement center one Sunday evening. I got there early. I like to reach my destination early. The parking situation is better when I manage to beat the crowd. And if I get to a choral performance early, I am no longer breathless when the actual singing begins. Unless you sing a lot, you have no idea how hard it is to hit those notes correctly when you are gasping for breath.

Anyway . . .

I grabbed my purse and my music, locked my car doors (no, I don’t even trust senior citizens), and sashayed up to the main entrance in my white blouse, long black skirt, and heels. I could describe to you how great I looked, but honestly, I looked like all the other female performers.

As I entered the building, a sweet little lady in a wheelchair asked me if I would mind holding the door for her. How could I refuse? She wheeled herself outside and I approached the front desk to ask where I was supposed to go. But the lady behind the desk didn’t answer my question. She had a question for me. “Did you just let that lady go outside?” Well, duh. Didn’t you see me? You were sitting right there. But I politely replied, “Yes, Ma’am, I did.” Then the lady behind the desk said, “You shouldn’t have done that. She isn’t supposed to leave the building.”

Sorry, but there wasn’t a sign hanging around the sweet little lady’s neck. How was I supposed to know that? But I am also a sweet little lady, so I merely apologized for my error and asked again for the location of the room we would be performing in. I still didn’t get the location. The lady behind the desk yelled, “GO BRING HER BACK!”

I really didn’t think this was my responsibility, especially since an employee had witnessed the whole thing and had failed to call security. But I didn’t want that employee to make coyote howling noises as a means of retaliation during our concert, so I took off back through those double doors in search of our little escapee.

Remember that I was wearing a long black skirt and heels, certainly not running attire unless your skirt has yards and yards of fabric, like those long skirts in old western movies. And by the way, the ladies in the old western movies weren’t wearing my heels. So I had to hike up the hem of my skirt, hold it in one hand, and my purse and music in the other, and start running. I might also point out that my black high-heeled shoes were designed to be looked at and admired, not to be used in track and field events.

Fortunately, I could run faster than the sweet little lady could roll, so I caught up to her before she could get on the interstate and hitch a ride with a motorist headed for the West Coast. Then I had to encourage her to turn around and go back inside. And I had to encourage her while gasping for breath because I don’t run in heels that often. So we had a little chat:

But I like it out here.

But they (gasp) sent me to come and get you (gasp).

But I like it out here.

But you aren’t (wheeze) supposed to be (gasp) out here.

But I like it out here.

But you aren’t safe (wheeze) out here.

But I like it out here.

Time for a new approach...  “But I’m going to sing and I would love very much for you to hear me.”

Maybe I had the look of operatic excellence and she was afraid to miss my performance. Maybe she had some rotten tomatoes in her apartment and had a need to get rid of them. It didn’t matter and I didn’t care. She made a U-turn and went back into the building.

The mean lady behind the desk finally pointed in the direction of the rec hall, or whatever it’s called in a senior center, where I needed to meet my group. And no, she did not express thanks for my heroic efforts in any form. I couldn’t participate with our chorus on the first number. I was still waiting for my breath to catch up with me so I just moved my lips. The sweet little lady didn’t attend our concert.  She was probably sitting at the front doors again waiting for another unsuspecting idiot who likes to do good deeds.

And the next time our director scheduled a concert at that location, I informed him that my calendar was already full for that day and I wouldn’t be able to make it.