Today my husband and I were excited to attend an in-person performance of the Portland Symphony Orchestra, the first one since the onset of Covid two years ago. We happily returned to our usual great seats as holders of a season pass, but things were a little more politically correct than they were when last we went.
Upon arriving, instead of walking right in we had to join a long line of ticket-holders that snaked around the corner, down the street and around another corner in order to show proof of vaccination and a photo I.D. at the door. Everyone wore masks, even in the orchestra, except for the musicians playing wind instruments who of course could not. (I sure hope none of those floutists had Covid.)
Entering the building, we had to pass through a metal detector, airport-style, and hand over our purses for inspection. Right away I got in a bad mood.
The concession stand, which normally did a rousing business during Intermission selling coffee, wine, cookies, nuts and candy, was closed. Signs warned that no outside food or drink, including water, could be brought in. Today there was no Intermission, I suppose to reduce the interaction between attendees.
What was always the "Ladies Room" was now labeled "Gender-Neutral Restroom." My husband followed me in and used the stall next to mine.
The conductor came out and greeted the audience to much applause. Added to his always genial welcome speech was the following, somewhat dire, pronouncement which he read from a piece of paper: "The Portland Symphony Orchestra would like to acknowledge that here at the Merrill Auditorium we are making music on the ancient sacred land of the Wabanaki." The audience, unsure of what to do with that information since there didn't seem to be any members of that particular tribe in the house, remained silent.
But oddest of all was a woman three rows ahead of us who cradled in her arms what I thought was an infant dressed in a hooded snowsuit. I worried about what would happen if the baby cried during the concert, until I got a better look at the baby and it turned out to be a pug dog. I suppose that was her "comfort animal," although it sure made me uncomfortable.
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