5 minutes late. 8 now. 17 minutes into the show. I was running down the sidewalk and into the thick, dark wooden doors. Meet me back outside at 10PM, I screamed to my lil bro. He motioned a gesture of “OK”, and walked away in his hunched, lackadaisical way. He didn’t want to see the opera. “I’ll do anything else, but I draw the line at the opera.” Frantically, I pulled the heavy doors open to expose the soprano belting out her vocals. I quickly gave the usher my ticket, only to be told I would need to wait until intermission before I could be seated. I’d broken proper opera etiquette already. With less than 15 minutes before the first intermission, I decided to wait in the entrance hall with other stragglers. Vocals continued to dramatically echo throughout the lobby. The workers focused on their conversations, occasionally breaking into hushed laughs. They must have become immune. Immune to the rich red velvet curtains that welcomed you once you took your seat, the gleaming golden walls that reminded you of why you should dress up for the opera, the thrilling rush of hearing the singers as they reached their highest notes, and the feeling of being so immersed in the show that you forgot you came here alone. Yes, they were immune, I concluded.
Follow Me Back Friday: to Národní Divadlo, Prague
July 9, 2015
EuropeFollow Me Back Fridayinternational
czech republic europe opera prague travel wanderlust