Wednesday, May 13, 2015

White Rabbit



Last night Mark took me to the theater to see Anything Goes, an old timey Broadway show from 1934. Apparently everybody who saw the show back in 1934 wanted to see it again from the looks of the audience. It was a sea of old folks with their canes, walkers, wheel chairs, and fluffy white hair. From our seats in the back half of the Orchestra section, it looked like a rabbit farm. Unfortunately, the seats at the Broward Center are just a squosh smaller than those on Spirit Airlines. Sitting next to me was a very hefty lady and her even heftier handbag smelling like a combination of hard candy and sweat. In between our battling for the armrest, she coughed up rattling, wet phlegm balls all evening.

Enough about the audience, it was the show that we came to see. About ten minutes in I realized that this production of Anything Goes was going nowhere. The dancing was stiff, the singing was often off key, and the set was pretty one dimensional. But I enjoyed it just the same, thanks to Mark. Right about the time I was thinking how bad it was, Mark leaned over and whispered into my ear, "I've seen better high school productions". From that point on I simply told myself that this was a bunch of high school kids doing a show, one night only, for their parents and classmates. Those kids were pretty good.

3 comments:

  1. This brings up a question, Alan. Is there a large "white rabbit" population in Chicago? If so...what do they do for fun? "Q-tips" as I like to call them here in Philly, sit at the corner of the bar and drink like it's their job. They also tell me I'm mowing my lawn wrong and drive Buicks. Large double-parked Buicks with plastic flowers tied to the antenna.

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    1. If you are a woman over the age of seventy in Chicago, you wear a large plaid overcoat with a babushka, and pull one of those wire shopping carts behind you. Men sit on the front porch drinking beer, yelling "Whatta ya want now?" to the wife inside. Old gay guys sit at the corner of the bar drinking like it's their job. Lesbians rebuild the snow blower in the summer, use it in the winter.

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  2. We have a neighborhood hardware store. You just reminded me to bring a wire shopping cart when I buy the part I need to fix the snow blower.

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