The maestro lifts his arms. The dowager lies in wait.
Quiet music begins to emanate from the stage.
And the little old woman, seemingly harmless, dives for a piece of candy and begins a nasty ritual. No quick pop of a cough drop is good enough. No, this concert patron has waited just for the right moment, just when the music has begun, for a slow, torturous twisting and kneading of the cellophane, deaf to the scientifically established fact that the sound of cellophane travels faster than the speed of light. People around her try to gently suggest that she is creating an annoyance. Well, yes, it is.