At a performance of Donizetti’s LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR at the Metropolitsn Opera in New York last night, before the opera began and also during the first of three lengthy intermissions, an older woman sitting on my left, of great intelligence and girth, engaged me in a stimulating conversation about our favorite operas and singers. She surprised me at one point when she asked me my age. I said 74, and she said she’s 80. Anyway, after the first intermission, she seemed to fall asleep, and soon her enormous right hand fell on my left knee. Not only that, but every time she shifted her sizable frame, the hand in question began to inch up my thigh. What would you have done had you been sitting next to her? What do you think I did? If I post this strange encounter on Facebook, will Mark Zuckerberg sell her my name, address, phone number, and also all my vitals?