I don't like being screamed at I don't like being screamed at.
I attended my first Symphonic Winds concert this afternoon. It was lovely, really, and as I was floating along on the music, exclaiming (privately) at the beauty of Oyate and the beauty of the nonsubzero day outside, the screams began.
They escalated until beautiful Oyate Hall echoed with the sounds of people dying, or fleeing in terror. I thought someone had pulled out a gun, I thought someone had seen a ghost, I thought the very worst.
But nope. It was all part of the music.
Apparently blood-curdling screams are very in right now.
As I surreptitiously tried to wipe off the tears that were threatening to fall out of my eyes, I noticed two little girls who were sitting a few rows in front of me. They looked about as frightened as I felt. They were clinging to their father with saucer eyes and mussed hair and probably asking him why were people screaming?
I wondered that myself as I tried to rub the goosebumps off of my arms.
I think I'm going to go hide under the covers now.
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