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A few weeks ago on a sunny weekday afternoon:

"Alan, can we go see Fun Home. There are tickets on sale with good seats available."

"Hmm.. sure." I mumbled, not looking away from the television.

"Okay. I got some very good seats here. Do you want to go on a Wednesday?"

"That's fine."

A few minutes later, Mark says in an excited voice, "Got'em. November second at seven thirty at the Oriental Theater."

Let that sink in for a moment. I was now committed to going to the theater on Wednesday, November second. How the hell was I supposed to know? How could I have foreseen the un-seeable, the unfathomable? Who would have figured that the Chicago Cubs would, for the first time in 108 years, be playing in the seventh game of the World Series on the same day that Mark wanted to go to the theater? So that's how I found myself last night, sitting in a theater, watching a show about growing up lesbian with a loving father, who also loved other men. It's actually a very moving and kind of funny story. The music, songs, and dancing weren't bad either. Although I would like to see it done as a movie without the musical component. But here's the best part about my theater night last night. I was out of there by nine, forty five. It's a short show with no intermission and I was racing down Lake Shore Drive, on my way home, within minutes of the lights coming up. So I got see the most exciting part of that game last night. I got to see the eighth, ninth, and tenth innings. I was home drinking a beer and screaming at the television just in time to see the Cubs blow a lead, and then get it back. Like I said, who could have figured that the Cubs would break the curse on November second, in the year 2016, on a Wednesday. The same day Mark wanted to go to the theater?