Opinion | The Best Usher at the Met

And then, ladies and gentlemen, he winked.

Best wink of my life.

It was the conspiratorial wink of one working stiff to another, and I knew immediately what I had to do: Walk a few feet away, pretending to be disconsolate.

The group of suits passed, and when the coast was clear, he motioned me into the darkened auditorium, his flashlight quickly locating my husband’s row. I scooted into my seat, my husband squeezed my hand, and I whispered, “Tell you later.”

I’d like to say we slipped him a nice tip after the final curtain, but by then he was gone. His shift must have been over.

Three decades later, the Met is once more staging the “Ring” cycle and there are two more performances of “Rheingold.”

I won’t be there. Whenever I hear the prelude’s rolling arpeggios, they summon the memory of standing in that lobby, wearing my little crimson knit suit with the elastic waist to accommodate the baby weight, and sobbing my heart out.

That’s hardly the opera’s fault. It’s a wonderful work, of course, and if you can get tickets, you should go. Just make sure you’re on time, even if you have to sleep in the lobby the night before. I have it on very good authority it’s a one-act opera, it has no intermission and, now that my favorite usher has surely retired, no late seating.

Kathleen O’Brien (@OBrienLedger) is a retired newspaper reporter in New Jersey.

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