Nov 26, 2015 4 min read

Almost everything else about the evening was fine – except the leaning man.

My friend Annie and I were at the Benedum Center in downtown Pittsburgh to see “Beautiful,” the musical about the life and career of Carole King. I didn’t mind we were way up on the second balcony. I didn’t mind that sometimes the dialogue tended to drag. I didn’t even mind that, halfway through the first act when someone’s cellphone two rows behind us started ringing, it took them 30 seconds to silence it.

Those things are predictable when you go to the theater these days. Coughers, sing-alongers, chair kickers, talkers, perfume wearers, candy unwrappers, late arrivers, armrest hoggers – all are part of the somewhat trying theater experience.

What irritated me was a behavior we don’t hear about as often: The leaner-upper.

Annie is petite, and the woman in front of her was too. She had a clear view. The woman’s husband was in the seat in front of me. He was taller, but so am I, and I could see pretty well. So Annie and I exchanged a smile and settled in.

The musical opens with Carole King at a grand piano on the stage of Carnegie Hall, singing her hit, “So Far Away.” It seemed appropriate because, way up there in peanut heaven, the actors looked like jumping beans. Halfway through the song, the man in front of me leaned forward – put his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands and hunched over.

This was OK. With his head lower, I had a straight view of the stage. But would he stay there?

Twenty seconds later, he leaned back and squirmed around to get comfortable. His head was back in my line of sight, and I adjusted to see the stage.

One minute later, and I mean one minute because Carole was just finishing the song, Squirmy McLean pitched himself forward again. This guy could not get comfortable.

Ten minutes into the show, with the man moving forward and back every few minutes, I realized I’d purchased a seat directly behind Dippy Bird.

I looked at Annie and sighed. Then, I looked at Mrs. McLean and wondered how long it would take her to ask him to stop, because this had to be driving her nuts, too.

I will say there was a span of time in the second act when Mr. M stayed put in the upright and locked position. I thought the seesaw phase had passed, but no.

I was on a crew rowing team once and I don’t think I ever moved my body forward and back as often as this guy did.

Maybe the man had a sore back. Maybe he fidgeted because he was bored. (Then what’s he doing in a tight seat in a crowded theater?)

I strongly considered tapping him on the shoulder to ask him to stop, but I’d have to wait for him to lean back. My timing was off.

“Beautiful” was a pretty good musical. It reminded me of how many great songs Carole King wrote:

“You’ve Got a Friend, But it’s Not the Person Behind You”

“Stop Doing The Locomotion”

“It’s Too Late to Change my Seat”

“Will You Still Love me Tomorrow if I Clobber this Guy?”

“You Make me Feel like a Homicidal Woman”

We all stood up for the curtain call. Squirmy McLean was dancing around with the rest of us, although you’d think he would have been too exhausted by then. It was my favorite Carole King song of all.

“I Feel the Earth Move in Front of my Seat.”