Please don't faint

Yesterday was a field trip day.

I was one of the lucky parents (and I really mean that) that was asked to chaperone Kate and Julia's Honor Choir trip to the Seattle Center.

I got up extra early so that I could be presentable and non-embarassing to my children.

I packed yummy lunches, bigger than normal of course, and treats.

We arrived at school and boarded the buses to make our trek to Seattle.

I listened to the typical 5th and 4th grade banter/teasing/merciless eyerolling and had a nice chat with Julia who WANTED to sit with me.

As we arrived and then entered the Seattle Center food court, I noticed that a good percentage of the population at the food court were, as the girls in my group so eloquently put it, Hobo's.

Who can blame them. It's warm inside, there is the possibility of free food given by generous patrons, and on this day, there was music.

Jeff had walked over from his office to be there for his girls. As the kids lined up to perform, Jeff and I found our sits and got ready to be suitably impressed.

As the music began I heard a rustling behind me, accompanied by a most unique odor.

I slighly and ever so casually looked around to determine the source of the smell. It seems one of the "hobos" had decided to join the audience.

I was actually quite pleased by this since music is for everyone, and children's music surely is a way to lighten the burden and the heavy hearts of those without homes.

However, my slightly patronizing and softhearted feelings quickly turned to body shaking laughter as the first song ended.

The gentleman behind me, in a very soft and trailing voice, gleefully joined in with clapping and a happy "Wee hoooooo!" "alright!"

This repeated itself a number of times until I was distracted by the little blond boy second row from the bottom who apparently locked his knees and fainted onto the stage. Followed then by a little girl who abruptly walked off the risers and went and fell in a little heap off to the side. (and on the bus ride home another child apparently fainted as well, sitting down)

When the drama was over, the man was gone. But I kept his spirit alive by adding my own little "Wee hooo!"s throughout the performance.

When the choir was done, my little group of girls came running up to me and asking if I had seen the man behind me and was he a Hobo?, and how scared they were of him, and how he kept pulling at his hair and making it look like devil's horns.

I promptly told them that he was in fact very pleased by their performance as was evident from his clapping and exclamations.

I think that made them feel better. Or not.