Playing in someone else's sandbox
Now this may be something that my fellow performers may only understand, but I found myself in an amusing situation the other night.
As i stood in line clutching the empty shell of a monkey, surrounded by young high school boys looking to impress their girlfriends, and young pre teen girls clutching the valentines gift from their parents, I watched the folks at the build a bear shop work. As one young man was made to rub a small red stuffed heart on various (clean and family friendly) points about his body and then told to jump up and down 10 times counting loudly, I came to the sudden shocking realization that I was in someone else's sandbox.
For those who don't understand this concept, it basically means I was in someone else's world where they got to invent the rules to the game, and I was about to be expected to play by those rules. The consequences for not playing by the rules could range from the simple pouting of the young girls in line as I held up the process by not playing along, to being subjected to public humiliation by the happy workers if they where on their game. Fully ready to play along I was only subjected to making a wish and kissing said silken heart before it was sewn into the newly stuffed monkey. Of course the site of a grown man testing said monkey for the appropriate level of "hugability" was probably amusement enough for those involved.
I did dwell a bit longer in the shop to watch the pack of teen males try to figure out how to make their newly acquired teddy bears cute and lovable for their girls with out suffering the ridicule of their peers who were also trying to accomplish the same task. The young lad who didn't pay attention to those who went before him, being escorted over to the computer work stations to when he answered the question "Did you fill out a birth certificate for your bear?" incorrectly was worth the wait.