New York Stories: War and Piece

Not pictured: The guy who stole my wallet

One night in December, when I was back East for some M6 rehearsals, I had one of those typical, overbooked New York nights where there was simply too much to hear. So after passing the early part of the frigid evening wandering through the East Village, bundled up tightly for Unsilent Night, I found shelter uptown in the decidedly warmer climes of the Met standing room to catch War &... (a.k.a. intermission + the second act of Prokofiev's War & Peace).

Grateful to have a chance to warm up, I took off my jacket and placed it on the ground before the curtain rose. Sometime before Moscow caught fire, my intrepid companion for the evening, Sr. R-, left the hall to use the restroom. Mesmerized as I was by the rotating wedge and the horse (because, really, when there's a horse on the stage, you can't look at anything else, can you?) I was only vaguely aware of the gentleman who slid into Sr. R-'s position at the rail. If I had to make a guess, I'd say he was a not-thin not-fat white guy in his 30s with brown hair and a roundish head, standard issue white sneakers and an unremarkable blue jacket. I didn't pay much attention as he was only there for a scene or so, and he left before the end of the show. Sr. R- and I capped the evening over drinks across the street afterwards, and when I went to cover the check, to thank him for weathering wind and cold both outside and on the stage, I discovered my wallet (which had been in my jacket pocket) was gone.

Here I must give a hearty shout-out to the security staff at the Met stage entrance, who at 1am on a freezing, wet New York winter night were the kindest, most understanding people you could imagine. They heard me when I said I needed my ID for my flight on Monday, they checked the lost and found, and most amazingly allowed me to look in the theater by my standing room place while the strike was going on. So thank you; I try not to depend on the kindness of strangers, but it certainly is appreciated when offered.

Of course I emerged empty-handed, and I went back to start the credit card cancellation process.  It was at this point I discovered that someone had gone straight home after the show to order hundreds of dollars of INTERNET PORN. Because isn't that what everyone does after four hours of War & Peace? Don't you turn into a total horndog after watching Napoleon's army retreat across Russia? I'm sure 80% of the audience that night found themselves with the uncontrollable urge to settle in and pull a wad after listening to Ramey ruminate on the greatness of the Russian people.

It was pretty nasty porn, too. (I checked.)

EPILOGUE

On Thursday, two months later, the day before heading back to New York, I got a package in the mail. A padded envelope that cost $1.89 at the post office. $1.81 in postage. No return address but NY, NY. And my wallet, with everything in it except for the (signficant amount of) cash.

And a note, scribbled on a Priority Mail label.

:) ?!?

Comments

[sfmike]

Nothing is sordid quite like New York City sordid, which of course leads me to wonder what KIND of nasty porn did he order? Gay, straight, animals, what...? Also, the greatest detail is that smiley face after "shared." Wow.

[Heather]

I laughed so hard I died. Then came back to life. Then died again. Thanks. Now I'm down to seven lives.

[patty]

Ewww ... I think I'd want to toss the wallet. But then I'm wimpy and silly that way. And I'm an oboe player, which explains everything about me completely, really ... don'tcha think?

Are you going to the symphony this Wednesday?

[Charlise Tiee]

How bizarre. Did you see the chickens in that opera? I wanted to see it again just for the chickens.

[jolene]

What a kind, considerate thief.

[m.croche]

It wasn't Ramey. That Akhrossimova is one sexy b----.