A friend and I went to a concert last week and ran smack dab into a conundrum.
It wasn't our fault. It was wrapped in a judgement call and cloaked in a moral dilemma. So it was pretty close to invisible.
The concert started at 2 o'clock, but it was to be a full afternoon of music featuring a few performers who were not terribly well known and one major star, who was to take the stage at 5PM. It was a small venue, a bar, and we knew seating would be limited so we showed up at 1, a full hour before things got underway.
The place was packed. In fact, it was only after three passes through the bar that we were finally able to spot a couple of empty seats. We beelined for them.
The very nice, polite woman sitting beside the empty chairs said, "I'm sorry, but these seats are taken. We are saving them for a friend."
Okay.
I've done that. I've made a deal with friends before: "So, if you get there first, make sure you save us seats!" Who hasn't done that? And I have always expected other people to honour that little snippet of the social contract, that little vestige of common law. You put a jacket on a seat, you might as well be ringing it with fire and have a pit bull chained to it.
(An aside: I don't know why, but saving seats feels more acceptable than, say, saving a place in line. I am really uncomfortable with that. I won't take a place in line that has been saved for me and I won't save a spot in the queue for a friend. It feels unfair, a breach of basic etiquette.)
But saving seats feels much more civilized. So of course my friend and I stepped back.
And we stood, and watched as the bands did their sound checks and, after an hour or so, the first performers took the stage.
And the two seats the woman was saving were still empty. Hmm.
I frowned, and my friend said, "You have that "I may have to start some trouble" look about you. How about if you don't?"
And I could have listened to her, I suppose ...
But here's the thing: come on. There has to be a time limit. Ten minutes? Twenty? Sure. I get it, your friend got held up and will be here any minute. I will stand with you and defend that seat against all usurpers.
But is it fair to ask the rest of the world for a blank check for an entire afternoon?
Hey, I don't want to be "that guy" who ruins other peoples' day by taking the seats they were saving for their friend. But we live in a society here, and while there might not be an absolute, specified length of time you can hold seats for invisible friends, I honestly believe it can be boiled down to this: a seat may be held for a period of time that ends when the first reasonable person says "Oh, come on. Get serious.".
And you know, it never comes as a surprise. When I have held seats for friends in the past and they haven't shown up right away, I have gotten progressively more uncomfortable as the time has moved along. When finally someone gestures towards the empty chairs and says to me, "Really? You're serious?" I release the seats almost with a sense of relief. And if my friends show up and say anything, they are likely to find me a little snippy over their tardiness and the pressure they put on me.
I need to stress again: this woman saving the seats was very polite and sweet, and I don't bear her any ill will. She wasn't enjoying the concert. She spent the entire time checking her phone for texts from her friends and looking around guiltily. I felt sorry for her.
But I still wanted to sit, and so after a while I put her out of her misery.
"I'll tell you what ... we'll take the seats and if your friends ever show up we can talk about it," I said, and you could see the gratitude flood over her face.
Her friends finally did show up, over an hour later, and they didn't even ask if there were seats saved. They stood and we all enjoyed the concert and the social fabric remained intact.
Until later, when two latecomers decided to push their way in and stand directly in front of us.
My friend said, "You have that "I may have to start some trouble" look about you ... "
Then another person blocked the last glimpse she had of the stage.
"Go ahead."
