Carmen was the first opera that I have ever seen.

And honestly, it won’t be the last.

I have to admit that my expectations for seeing Carmen were not very high. From what I had heard about the opera, it was only for the wealthy, and young folks had no business going. But I can say that after watching the performance, I truly felt as though the opera was something that I could one day come to love.

Sitting in my seat in the “family circle”, I was not immediately impressed. It was hard to see without binoculars, which I thankfully rented, and there was a particularly grumpy old lady sitting behind me with sharp fingernails. However, once the actual opera began I was very impressed. I could not believe that such powerful and beautiful voices were coming from real people. If I looked away for a second I could have sworn that the whole thing just wasn’t real. It wasn’t until I fixed my binoculars on the singers that once again I realized that I was sitting in the MET, watching some extremely talented people perform right in front of me (ok, maybe a little farther than that…).

But that’s not to say that I completely enjoyed my experience.

I think what I most enjoyed about the opera was what it could have been for me. Even though I loved the singing, I would have enjoyed to be close enough to appreciate the acting and set more. I couldn’t quite make out some facial expressions, and I’m certain some details of the backdrop were left unnoticed by me. Because of this, I often found myself wandering into thought.

Gazing around the theater, I couldn’t help but notice it’s design. I noticed the spackling on the wall closest to the top of the “family circle” and wondered silently if anyone would be fixing that soon. Looking at the sides of the theater, I noticed the grand tier boxes, and looked on as a mother and her child hopped away to the exit from their seats. I couldn’t help feel a twinge of jealousy, that they were there and I was all the way at the top of the theater, so distant from the action and so aware of my seemingly “plebeian” status. I mean really, who was I fooling in my black gown and silver pumps? Surely I should have dressed in jeans and a shirt to at least demonstrate my understanding of the social atmosphere.

But I didn’t, and I won’t. When I do return to the opera, whether I am sitting in the family circle, the orchestra,or the grand tier, I will surely play dress-up again and appreciate what the “high life” has to offer.