"There must be some mistake. I think you are at our table."
I look up and see an older, balding man with intense blue eyes peering down at me. To his left is a beautiful woman with reddish brown hair. To his right is a fit looking guy, probably only a few years older than me. The younger man wears small glasses and looks intelligent.
"Really? I don't know," I answer. "I just sat down where the usher told me. "
People are flooding into the theater, which is not that large, and taking up the seats quickly. So this group of three decide to sit down at the table with me.
The theater is filled with cocktail tables covered with white cloths. The tables seat up to four people, though only two people are at most of the tables. The four of us are sort of crowded in together.
"What is your name?" the younger guy asks me.
"My name is Nathan. I'm out here on vacation."
"By yourself?"
I smile. At this point in my life, I am growing more comfortable with being alone, in going to social events alone. I am getting more used to people thinking of that as a little odd. "Yes, I'm by myself. How about you guys?"
"It's a sort of business trip," the older man says, studying me carefully. "This is Dan, my accountant."
I smile and nod to him. I look at the woman and smile at her, too, though I decide not to ask who she is.
Dan seems like a nice guy, but the older fellow is obviously irritated by my presence.
"Is this your first time to Las Vegas?" Dan asks.
"No, I came out for the first time in 2003."
"You know, I was hoping to be able to talk business with my colleagues here," the older man says.
The abruptness of his comment startles me. I do not know how to respond. "Oh, I'm sorry."
I look around. There is one empty table left close by. "I suppose I can ask the usher to move me to that table."
The older man gives me a look like he is trying to keep from yelling at me to do it, to move. At that moment, though, an usher seats two women at the table. It is a full house, now- no empty tables left. A waiter brings each of us a cocktail, which is included in the price of the ticket.
The friendly thing might be for us all to clink glasses and say "Cheers!" But we do not do it. The look on Dan's face is unfortunate. The older man is not happy, now, and this is not good for Dan, I can tell. The woman seems apathetic to it all.
I sip my cocktail. It might be a great cocktail, but I would not know. I have only recently started drinking, and nothing tastes that good to me. No matter what the mix, the flavor and odor of alcohol is overriding.
I try to be affable. "When I saw that David Copperfield was performing in Vegas, I knew this would be a rare chance for me. I grew up in North Carolina. He is the first magician I ever remember seeing on television. He made the Statue of Liberty disappear when I was a kid."
Dan forces a brief smile. The older man does not. The woman is looking away, uninterested.
"Where are you guys from?" I ask.
No one speaks for a moment.
"You don't know who I am?" the older man asks.
This surprises me. The glare and intensity of his eyes are something, but I take a moment to study his face anyway.
"No."
"Really?" he asks. "You have no idea who I am?"
"I'm sorry," I answer. "Should I? What is it that you do?"
"I'm a businessman," he says, looking away as he speaks with what might be described as disgust.
The lights to the theater go down. From his tone and expression, I decide not to ask him further questions.
The show is great. David Copperfield is only a few feet away on stage, and I keep my eyes there the entire time, rather than looking at my three unhappy table companions.
Toward the end of the show, Copperfield says that his parents are in the audience, and a spotlight shines on their table. It is only three away from ours, and actually further back. The parents are both dressed nicely, in evening ballroom style.
When the show ends and the lights come back up, I tell the three sitting at my table, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in Vegas."
"Thank you, you as well," Dan answers. The older man and the beautiful woman say nothing.
The crowd filters out, but Copperfield's parents stay seated at their table, probably waiting to speak to their son.
As I walk by them, I say, "I enjoyed your son's show." They acknowledge me with a nod.
***
After my return from Vegas to North Carolina, I studied my credit card bill. I noticed that the price of the ticket to the show was not charged. It was an expensive ticket, and I keep waiting for the charge to appear on my monthly bills. It never does.
Only years later does it occur to me that the older man or Dan probably complained to the theater about what happened, and that everyone at the table got to see the show for free.
It is not the first time, and it is not the last time, when I go alone to a social event and find myself, through no control of my own, plugged in with a romantic couple or a group of people who do not want me there. Another instance that comes to mind is the Osceola County Fair in the spring of 2012. I will tell that story next week.
At least I got to see David Copperfield's show for free.
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