Lame. I'm a writer, I said to myself. Come on! How to entice him with only a few words on a bristol board sign?
It came to me at 4 a.m. one morning, and luckily, when I got up, I remembered and wrote it down. At the concert, I saw him read it. His face didn't change; he did not smile. He spoke in Japanese to the two women in kimonos sitting right next to me, screaming "Pauw! Pauw!" in very high voices. And that was that. I wondered if perhaps my wording reminded him too much of his age. Or perhaps the people in the Sgt. Pepper's costumes had already been chosen.
Oh well. My sign did not do its job, but I don't care - I had done mine.