How to Enjoy the Ballet: 10 tips for Lawyers

Let me be clear, right from the beginning: I’m not saying that lawyers can’t enjoy the ballet. I’m just saying that we enjoy it in a different way than normal people. I don't think we have to be ashamed of that. After all, we get paid an obscene amount of money not to think like ordinary human beings. We should embrace those strange, lawyerly emotions, and appreciate high culture from the distorted perspective we all share.

In that spirit, I present 10 tips for enjoying the ballet from a legal perspective. Many of these ideas occurred to me while watching The American Ballet Company’s performance of Sleeping Beauty at the Kennedy Center. However, they apply equally to any production—or, indeed, to many of our experiences with the fine arts.

• 1. Read the program.

This is the first thing I do at the ballet. I ignore the parts about the production; those are boring, unless of course you are stalking a member of the cast. Instead, I like to turn to the sponsor pages. This is the who’s who of Washington power. Want to know who the most powerful members of Congress are? They’re listed in the Honorary Members section. Want to know the most powerful lobbying companies? Try the high-donor’s section, where companies like The Altria Group (née Phillip Morris) demonstrate their commitment to the fine arts.

I also like the ads for outragously expensive watches—obscene watches, watches with nothing on the face but a big, honkin’ diamond. The new Rolex: Because you’re too damn rich to know what time it is.

• 2. Network.

Look around you. Ok, sure, none of the politicians in the program are here. Those people wouldn’t go to the ballet if they handed out free money during intermission. But there are a hell of a lot of lawyers and executives sitting around. Strike up friendly conversations. Pump hands. Be generally positive about the performance, without giving specific details. You’re here because your fiancée likes it, but it’s a delightful performance, really. Are you and your wife enjoying the show, Mr. Exxon-Mobile? My, that’s an impressive wristwatch.

• 3. Nitpick

Unimportant details: they’re how we make a living. There’s no reason to stop thinking about them just because you’re on your own time.

I like to watch for tiny errors. At the last performance I attended, one of the lead ballerino’s hair-bands came off. I watched it like a hawk for the next five minutes. One of the actors (who played a sort of grand vizier) noticed it too. As each new ballerina came onto the stage, he would warn them about it with a glance and a twitch of his fingers, well concealed in his larger movements. Finally, while several dancers spun in front of him, drawing the eyes of the audience, he picked it up and stuffed it into his sleeve.

• 4. Write liability clauses.

These people live entirely on their bodies. If they break a toe, they lose their livelihood. Can you imagine the liability? Try. Then try to construct a clause to avoid it. For extra points, negotiate the contract in your head. Be sure to get to yes.

• 5. Sue fictional characters.

You are in the jurisdiction of Magic Kingdom, which mirrors the procedural and substantive law of New York. An evil fairy godmother puts your kingdom to sleep for 100 years. As a result, your kingdom loses out on 100 years of GDP and technological advancement. Do you have a claim? If so, are punitive damages available?

• 6. Defend fictional characters.

Can the evil fairy godmother succeed on the defense that she is a foreign sovereign, entitled to immunity? She appears to be queen of the flies. Is this sufficient for a claim of immunity under the FSIA? Should she claim it, or try to avoid service of process? Discuss in low whispers, while ignoring the glares of fellow patrons.

• 7. Ask questions about details that sane people do not wonder about.

Remember, you never know what tiny detail might break the case. Exactly how many shoes do these people go through every year? Can they be resoled? Do they start to smell after a few performances? Do performers buy their own shoes, or are they provided by the employer? If so, are there appropriate economic incentives to promote an efficient use of resources? Internalize any relevant externalities.

• 8. Multitask.

Let’s face it, none of us has time to do just one thing at once. Bring work. Read by the house lights. During intermission, check your blackberry compulsively. This has the double advantage of maximizing your use of time and making you look important. You’ll notice, however, that the really important people do not have Blackberries out. This is because they are the puppet masters, and the Blackberries are the strings, to be pulled at their leisure. Guess where this metaphor leaves you.

If you run out of work, play Brickle.

• 9. Strategize.
  

You’re probably here because of a girl. If so, there are two possible approaches—fascination and boredom.

If you prefer to “appreciate culture,” be emotional but not excessively so. No crying, but you can beam genially and occasionally squeeze her hand as the music swells. The idea here is to appear multi-faceted and full of manly emotion.

If you prefer to be long-suffering, slouch slightly, but smile absently whenever she looks up. Compliment her dress and say how glad you are that she’s enjoying it so much. The idea here is to make her aware of your sacrifice, without appearing passive aggressive. Remember, you’re happy she’s happy, even if you’d rather be snorkeling naked in piranha-infested waters.

• 10. Lose your hat.

This gives you an excuse to say, “Damn, I left my hat at the ballet” for the next two weeks. It sounds like complaining, but really you’re saying “Look at me, I went to the ballet.” Further evidence that you aren’t the colorless barrister everyone thinks you are.