Whenever I see Allison, cute and graceful to the brim, I think, "There but for the grace of God and a work ethic and musical talent go I."
On entering Hall of Nations:
ALLISON: I always like to try and recognize the flags I know, and then feel stupid for not knowing so many.
SCOTT: Don't worry about it. None of these nations matter anyway.
The seats I had bought were crammed down just off stage right, just two rows of short of being sitting among the second violins.
SCOTT: Pay attention, you can really see the emotion in the back of the concertmaster's head.
The best part of the Haydn symphony ("La Reine") was when a flute player entered, embellishing a returning main theme.
SCOTT: One good thing about these seats is, whenever a woodwind enters, it's always a complete surprise.
AL: I know!
SCOTT: I didn't even know there was a flute up there!
This was followed by a world premiere harp concerto. The soloist, stunned me not first with her playing (though that was impressive), but with a generous eyeful of cleavage as she gave her opening bow.
SCOTT and ALLISON gasp.
SCOTT: Well, I'm sold.
Interesting work, written by Mark Adamo, who, according to the program, is John Corigliano's partner, which I take it means they've started some sort of business together.
Everybody swarmed to the balcony for the intermission, where the weather was beautiful, a couple of boats were lazing up the river, and the waterfront was lit up like a Lite-Brite. I explained what those three monumental eyelashes were. Then we looked around for some opened seats in the back of the hall, because a Mahler symphony is a lot to take too close.
SCOTT: The only thing I remember about this is that one of the movements is Frère Jacques.
ALLISON: So I can sing along?
SCOTT: If you sing along, I will leave.
On the way out:
ALLISON: There's the giant Kennedy head. That thing scares me.
SCOTT: Sometimes it follows people home. Don't answer the door tonight!
SCOTT: That would be the best prank ever. If only I had a friend who worked here, I would totally do that. Just bring it to your door and ring the doorbell and run away. We'd have to move it on the Metro. We'd roll it down to Foggy Bottom and then right on the car. "What are you people doing?" "Ah," I'd say, "this is for a practical joke."