Nosebleed Seats

There was another holiday concert for another brother last night.  As I am always one who tries to learn from experience, I decided we would cut our sitting time down dramatically by arriving to our seats at the last possible moment. We arrived, the boys donning their favorite suit jackets, ties, and one with cowboy boots, of course. As there’s always one in the group; one insisted on wearing his Gap hooded sweatshirt.

At that point, only the nosebleed seats were left.  That was fine; the balcony was the perfect place for the boys to stretch out and relax, as their whispers would disturb fewer members of the audience.

About 20 minutes into the concert, my husband asked me for a tissue, and then, I looked, and there was blood, as crimson-colored as the poinsettia’s on the stage, covering my son’s face.

I guess the seats gave him a nosebleed.

Meanwhile, on stage, two performers fainted, dropping straight down form the third row to the floor.  The concert continued, uninterrupted, as the melodies continued to fill us with holiday cheer.

Home at last, I had hoped to spend the evening catching up on all that wrapping, and maybe address a few more Christmas cards. Instead, I sat down with notes and quizzed my son, until my eyes dropped, on his HUGE India test for the next day.

On a side note, the one with the nosebleed was not one donning a dry-clean-only suit jacket; he was wearing the wash-and-wear Gap hoodie.

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