Metropolitan Diary
‘A Chorus Line’
Dear Diary:
It was winter 1976. My wife and I had hoped to get tickets to “A Chorus Line.” At the time, it was possible to go to the box office on the afternoon of a performance and buy tickets that had been returned or had not been sold. But none were available that day.
Disappointed, we went for a walk in Central Park and then went to La Maison Japonaise for dinner. We were seated upstairs, where our corner table was near one by the window.
That table was occupied by a man who appeared to be about 60 and a much younger woman. They were having an argument, and the woman was furious.
Because the tables were very close together, I could hear every word she said. I was facing the woman’s back, and I could see the man on the far side of their table. Although I tried to look away, I saw him gesture toward me. To my surprise, he invited us to join them.
“You now know a lot about us,” he said, “so let’s all get to know each other.”
We moved to their table and enjoyed our dinner talking with them. Walking behind the women as we left the restaurant, the man handed me an envelope.
“As you know, I can’t spend the evening we had planned,” he said.
In the envelope were two tickets to “A Chorus Line,” sixth row center.
— Robert Gold
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/13/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html?
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