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I never know where to look when anybody other than Matt is up there. We sit very close to the stage, and I don't have much of a Poker face, so I'm afraid to look directly at the performer, in case I accidentally sneer, frown, or make a painy face. So it helps my nerves to have my sketchbook to disappear into. Especially if someone is reciting a poem, which is worse than having your teeth drilled.
It was kind of cool, though, when a young lady at a table across the room somehow set some napkins on fire with the candle on her table. All of a sudden, while some guy was performing, there were flames and people running over to douse it with water.
The lady was by herself, and had a strange honky afro. When she first walked in she had an attitude like, "I am a quirky, interesting lady!" But after the fire, she looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards.
In my mind, I have re-written it so that her honky afro was what caught fire.
