A solo night on the town

I never minded going out by myself. In fact, one of the best evenings of my life was a solo night on the town. A high school trip through Europe had reached its conclusion. During our very last night in London before boarding a plane to go home, several people went to the theater. Some went to see a drama and others went to see "Les Miserables." I mulled over my theater choice but a poster in the tube station made the decision  obvious. It was "Rent;  the very musical I worshiped. I loved every single, tiny detail of that play, right down to the chipped black nail polish one of the characters sported. I got a ticket, sat in the highest balcony and gazed down in a wonderful euphoria at the actors who looked like ants far, far below me. I skipped back to the hotel, feeling so great  to have this entire experience to myself. I saw "Rent" a couple of times afterwards - once even in the same theater as the first viewing although the seats were far better. But that first show is the one I truly hold above the others.

Going out by yourself can be a gamble. There is always a chance that you will feel out of place or lonely.  If the conditions are just right, however, it can feel special.
Take last Saturday; I went to Opera on the Rocks. A local opera group performed a one-act play in an amphitheater at Bandelier National Monument. Patrons wondered with cups of wine and plates of gourmet cheese. A Pueblo drummer serenaded the crowd. The Superintendent of Bandelier said there has been music in Frijoles Canyon for thousands of years and it continues today.
As the performers got ready to continue the music, the air became cool and the sky transformed into a riot of pastel colors.
The evening was beautiful, not only due to the wine and cheese, the singing and music and the setting, but because of  everyone around me. It was the fantastic couple who sat next to me and told me about their B&B in Ohkay Oweingh and that mixing water from a pump in town, with Jack Daniels and lemon juice makes a tasty drink. It was all the Red Hat Society women who came dressed to the nines in their purple and red. It was the group of people who were manning the Black Mesa Winery table and, after I took a picture of one of the individuals, the others all chimed that she was now the face of the winery.
Just as that long-ago night in London sticks with me, last Saturday will be fondly remembered, too. Only this time, I'll treasure the memory because I got to share the experience with others.

Rotary of Los Alamos 

Black Mesa Winery

Don Quixote Distillery