None of us would ever pack a loaded cell phone to church. The nerve. But reading about the uncivilized folks who do so, brought to mind an incident completely devoid of religious experience that needs to be preserved for posterity ?or something.
A few years ago I sang with a choir called Exultate. During a recorded performance and after the opening announcement to silence such devices a cell phone went off and rang through an entire piece.
When the song ended (the ringing had ceased) the director turned and sternly asked the audience to silence their phones, again. People shuffled about, checking their phones, harrumphing just enough to ensure those in relatively close proximity knew it wasn’t them, and the settled back to hear the delightful music.
Just as the director raised his hands for the second number the same ringing began anew. There was an audible gasp!
The director dropped his arms and turned around angrily and began searching for the offender. The acoustics of the room made this more difficult than usual, as the sound seemed to bounce from here to there.
Finally, the source was located. The phone was under my husband’s chair. Emanating from my purse.
Since my husband had never met the director, the link from the offending phone to me was not made. With the director’s back to me, facing down my husband, I pleaded with Sam (over the director’s shoulder) not to reveal the connection.
Sam kept his piece and took the fall although it was apparent the purse was not his. The entire audience knew it was mine. The director didn’t.
I was saved. I felt like a schoolgirl caught cheating on a test when her best friend stepped in to provide a plausible alibi.
After the concert, the choir went to eat dinner at Brick Oven. We ate and chatted happily, until the director walked in. I froze. He came down the aisle until he reached us. Stopped. Looked from my husband to me and back again. Scowled and walked away.
Moral: Don’t be seen in public with you husband when he’s in trouble for serious breaches of etiquette.