Bravo!

We've been Philadelphia Orchestra subscribers for the better part of twenty years. Since our son is a violist, we've always requested seats that would give us a good view of the viola section and have come to look upon those players as some sort of very distant relatives that we don't know well at all.
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Recently, though, I've been looking elsewhere. The Orchestra's tympanist is a school parent; his twin daughters are in our eleventh grade. So I know him. A little. Since he's located behind the violas, I don't feel a sense of conflict. Occasionally my eye even wanders over to the other members of the percussion section.
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There are times when, at the conclusion of a piece, some in the audience will leap to their feet hollering, "Bravo!" This has fascinated me. Not being a musician myself, I didn't understand what made one performance worthy over another of such a response. I remember thinking, "What kind of confidence must a person have to do that?"
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You can see where this is going.
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Last night, the main piece was Copland's Symphony No. Three. I'd never heard it in its entirety before, and I loved it. Well before the start of the fourth movement, I'd begun to look away from the violists and back towards the percussionists. I recognized the "Fanfare for the Common Man" as it began, having had no idea that it was a part of this larger work. As it built and swelled, I found I couldn't take my eyes off of Don and his tympani and his mallets (even noticing that some of them were different colors). I was utterly captivated and pulled into the piece.
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At its end I found myself on my feet, hollering, "Bravo!"
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It wasn't about confidence. It was about doing what I couldn't not do. Thanks, Don, for unknowingly teaching me this. Bravo!