The response to that last comment on my previous blog is, "Okay until..." I got a tad bit cranky when the nice young men minding the door of the KY Center for the Arts wouldn't let me cut through the lobby, even though it's the closest route to my car. And even though I always go that way. And even though I'm old and decrepit and could be their auntie, if not their grandma...
It was a private function, they said. Not that there haven't ever been private functions - but I've never before been stopped at the door and told to "walk around."
My first thought was to argue. I did protest, but I didn't argue. As I went (okay, hobbled - it was 6:15 p.m. and I'd been wearing heels all day) back down the steps out front and circled 'round the long way to the parking garage, I breathed deeply and said to myself over and over, "Face of God. Face of God..."
As I descended the stairwell to the ArtsCenter garage, which is the next shortest route to Riverfront garage where I park, I considered taking the elevator back up to the lobby level and ducking out the back door. I figured it would fit nicely into a "humorously passive-aggressive" kind of response.
Instead, I took the elevator to my level, went to my car, and headed home.
I figure sometimes the "face of God" has to just walk away. What's the point of getting the last word?
And the young men were nice. Their mamas taught them manners. Good for them!
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