A few years ago, I went to a very prestigious dinner in Los Angeles. There were several hundred dignitaries in the audience, and I’m ashamed to admit I was sitting at the table farthest from the dais, so far I couldn’t see what was going on past the sea of heads. I may as well have been at the Grand Canyon.
I also confess that I was slightly upset because our table was near the entrance to the men’s room, and throughout the evening, there was a constant flow of traffic that intensified when the booze began to flow. I guess someone had to sit there, and I guess it said a lot that I was the someone, even though I had company.
At one point, I started to grumble because I couldn’t see the festivities, and the sounds from the men’s room were a bit distracting. But instead of getting commiseration from my companions, the woman next to me said, “I’m just grateful to be here.”