Choices difficult when director absent

<p>My wife went on a two-week vacation without me. Hmmm, maybe that’s redundant.</p><p>The last morning before she came home, Mary Ellen called me to say that she wouldn’t arrive until very late that evening. I had already planned to spend the day at home to catch up on some work, write a few columns, arrange the next TV segment, prepare some speeches and maybe take a couple of two-hour naps.</p><p>That’s when I decided not to blow the entire day and that I’d go see a movie. True, I had never gone to a movie alone in my entire life. But how hard could it be?</p><p>“One ticket, please.”</p><p>“Just one?” asked the young lady. Then she looked at me like I was a lost puppy.</p><p>“Yes, just one.”</p><p>I wish I hadn’t emphasized the word “just.” Suddenly I felt very self-conscious. It seemed like everyone was staring at me.</p><p>There were a few people milling about the theater lobby. An elderly couple smiled. I think they recognized me. Then I saw them whispering. Now I was paranoid. What were they saying? Maybe, “Oh dear, his wife must have left him. She probably read his last column.” Or “I always knew humor was a solitary business, but there’s nothing funny about being alone.”</p><p>Maybe “Poor Dick Wolfsie. He apparently doesn’t have a friend in the world.”</p><p>Selecting a movie, for example, had always been easy. It usually went something like this: “Mary Ellen, let’s go to the movies and see Shaft.”</p><p>“Oh, a movie sounds nice. But let’s see Rocketman instead.”</p><p>“Yes, dear.” That was simple enough. Then I would pick a time. “Let’s catch the 5 p.m., Mary Ellen, and get those matinee prices.”</p><p>“No, let’s go at 7 so I don’t have to rush home from work.”</p><p>“That’s a good idea.”</p><p>This time, I was on my own. I walked into the theater. But where to sit? No problem. It was always an easy decision. “Let’s sit up front, Mary Ellen.”</p><p>“No, that’s too close. Let’s sit in the middle.”</p><p>“Okay, dear, but can we sit in the center of the row so I don’t have to turn my neck?”</p><p>“No, let’s sit on the aisle, so it’s easier for you to get us more popcorn.”</p><p>For this particular movie, I was without my consultant. Where to sit? There was only one other person watching that afternoon and I needed someone to explain the movie to me. Plus, I felt sorry for the guy. He was all alone. When I sat down right next to him, he moved six rows down. So much for being friendly.</p><p>The film was okay, but I thought the story line got really weird toward the middle. That’s because when I returned from the men’s room halfway through it, I walked into Toy Story 4 by mistake.</p><p>I didn’t get popcorn and a drink, because I forgot what size Mary Ellen tells me to buy. And I had trouble finding my car afterwards because knowing where we parked has never been my responsibility.</p><p>I was glad when Mary Ellen got home. I have depended on her since we walked down the aisle together in 1980…to see Kramer vs. Kramer.</p>