I heard about a play called "Tuesdays With Morrie" from my dear sweet mother.  She told me it was a touching play about a man and his mentor who was on his deathbed.  Now, I am not into really emotional chick flick plays, but my leading lady is, so we decided to go on a date and check it out.  It took forever to find a parking spot and then make it to the box office.  I couldn't exactly remember the name of the play we wanted to see, but there was only one playing in that particular theater so I bought two tickets and some Hot Tamales then we found our seats. 

We had arrived a little late and there was a monologue in process on the stage when we sat down.  Now, I am not a veteran aficionado of legitimate theater, but I could immediately tell something was wrong.  There was no set on the stage.  No furniture, no back drop, no cast.  Just one actor.  Crying. 

Surely things were going to get better, and I wasn't about to bail on a play that I worked so hard to get to.  Especially since Kara loves emotions.  Needless to say I stuck it out, waiting the whole time for a dialog between a man and his mentor.  It never came.  What we did get was a droning series of monologues about the need to feel bad for people who commit, how do I put is... Less than polite crimes.

It was like watching an arrest.  You know, when you see the police doing something and you just stop and stare.  I mean, there was this sinking feeling of, "Grab your stuff and run!"  But rather I distracted the, *ahem* actors with my looks of disgust and surprise.  For two hours. I didn't even touch the Hot Tamales. In what turned out to be the entirely wrong theater.  Now, Kara could probably tell the story better, but I am sure that the moral comes across quite nicely: A wise man foresees danger and hides himself.