• Author of New York's 50 Best Places to Find Peace and Quiet (6th Edition) and New York's 50 Best Places to Take Children (4th Edition)
  • Creator of the TranquiliCity app, the instant locator for relaxation in NYC
  • Creator of New York's 50 Best book series (Rizzoli)
  • Creator of the Hard Hat Harry children's video series
  • Two-time Telly Award winner for Best Children's Video
  • Former VP/Creative Director of one of B-to-B's Top 50 Advertising Agencies
  • Award-winning advertising copywriter
 

To The Front

I have an observation: virtually no one wants to sit in the front row.

Doesn’t matter whether it’s a class, a meeting, a presentation, or a workshop, people will pack the back but avoid the first three rows as if the seat cushions were soaked in bio-toxins.

Until a decade ago, I was one of those following the crowd to the rear—to the seats with the tight legroom, lousy acoustics, and distant views of the stage.

And I know why I stayed in back. Because it’s risky up there.

What if I need to get up to use the bathroom? I’d have to pass the entire audience—no doubt a bunch of busybodies thinking, “What’s with this guy’s bladder?”

Or if the event is dull or drags on, I’d feel boorish getting up to leave. The back of my head might even get heckled from the stage.

And … terror of terrors … the front row is where people always get called on. What if the speaker asks me a question, the presenter wants me to volunteer, or the demonstrator chooses me to be the assistant? I might make a fool of myself, say something stupid, or trip and fall flat on my forehead. Better to remain safely hidden in the back, out of the spotlight.

But ducking life is a lousy plan. And I finally figured out that the front row is where all the action takes place, where possibilities happen, where the best opportunities leave the stage and land in people’s laps.

Sure, it’s scary. I’m jittery every time I pull myself to the prow seats. But that’s where I need to go if I want to engage unreservedly in my own happiness and success, rather than numbing out in the rear.

It’s simple: life is just more fun in the front row.

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