Attending a Haydn concert, Dalrymple comes to the horrifying realization that he has brought his cell phone with him, and…insert ominous chords…he has left it on.
What to do about the infernal apparatus in my pocket? I did not want to take it out while the music was still playing, thereby drawing attention to myself as a member of the younger generation who could not concentrate without distracting himself for longer than a few minutes. (No one else in the audience, I felt sure, had even brought a phone with him.) The shame would have been terrible.
This guy lives dangerously. I once was at the Wigmore Hall when someone’s phone went off. It was a Haydn quartet. At the end, the lead violinist played those phone chimes in a very funny expressive way and everybody was happy.