o O Plácido

I had the great pleasure of seeing Plácido Domingo as Emperor Qin in The First Emperor at the Metropolitan Opera over the weekend. It seemed an appropriate time to go, since Domingo first sang at the Met in 1968--the year I was born.

My companion, Christine, and I had never been to the Met before, though my college commencement was held at Alice Tully Hall. The show was a matinee, so there was a great swath of attendees, from young people in strappy sandals and summery skirts to gray hairs with great, sprayed coifs and well-worn opera glasses.

No matter what, you're going to encounter crusty bad-tempered New Yorkers. That's a given, and the odds are you'll be stuck with them in a crowded elevator. And, invariably, someone will say, "Welcome to New York!" after you thankfully flee that box of bad mojo.

The inner sanctum at the Met is beautiful, with squares of gold leaf applied to the marvel of a ceiling glimmering in contrast to the red velvet seats. But not much could compare to the moment Domingo came out on stage. It was almost a rock-and-roll moment, and a great day in the city.