What Do You Want Me to Do?

What a weird night tonight! Good, bad, frustrating, wonderful. All in a single night.

It started when we got to the theatre to find someone had sabotaged the two refrigerators behind the concession stand. One had been unplugged, and the other had its setting changed to "freeze," so several soda cans had swelled up and exploded. So half of Ann's drinks were warm, the others were covered in frozen soda. She had to wash out the one refrigerator and then go get ice across the street to cool down the other drinks before patrons got there. We think we know who did it, but we don't know for sure... so I'll just say it was a real "horror"... (Inside joke; if you don't get it, consider yourself lucky).

Then we hear that on Friday night, some kid had been puking during the show. And I don't mean he puked then his parents took him home. No, he puked all during the show, into his father's coat, apparently, and also -- wait for it, wait for it -- all over a seat. Which we didn't discover until an hour before the show tonight! Thanks for the heads up, folks! Yes, this kid and his parents left his seat totally covered in barf, chunks and all, and didn't bother to tell anyone on their way out. And of course, they stayed for the whole show. Just 'cause their kid was extremely ill is no reason to miss a great show! Will someone please call Child Protective Services...?

So there's Ann, me, Trish, and others frantically trying to clean this damn seat, not only because we had a sold out house tonight, but also because it smelled! Eventually, we did get it cleaned and deodorized (thank you, Ann and Trish!), but then the seat was soaking wet. So we put a sign on the seat that it was wet and to see Vicki, the box office manager. So later the woman who had bought that ticket is yelling at Vicki because Vicki had seats for her in Row A or the balcony. But Row A was too close and the balcony was too far away. Okay, fuckin' Goldilocks, c'mere and let me slap you really hard. Eventually the woman decided to sit in the wet puke seat anyway. Whatever.

Then this couple comes in -- she's blind, he walks with a cane -- and they've bought tickets in Row P, the very last row, the row that takes the most steps to get to, and they declare to us that they can't go up stairs. It seems to me that if you can't go up stairs and you're buying a theatre ticket, you ought to ASK if there are stairs in the theatre. Does that make me a dick? Most theatres have stairs. We figured out a solution for them, but on top of everything else, it was a mite annoying...

But the show went great tonight. The audience (along with last night's audience) was more in a laughing mood than a thinking mood, laughing at pretty much everything and not catching a lot of the dark ironies and the complicated, emotional subtext, the implications of these scenes and songs and characters. But they had a really good time, so who the fuck am I with my fat ass and tongue on rye to complain that they were enjoying themselves? And they fed the actors a lot of good energy. I guess it's a show that can work in different ways for different people. So yes, I'm pretty much a dick for complaining because the show itself was outstanding tonight, and the cast totally nailed it.

And now that I've dissed our audience, I'll also mention that a bunch of our New Liner friends were in the house tonight. Who totally hate me now after reading my blog.

And tonight was also Stephen Sondheim's birthday. We sang "Happy Birthday" with the audience at curtain call (which I will NOT pay a royalty on, and those two old ladies who wrote it can kiss my ass), and then we had a Sondheim/Assassins themed sheet cake (you should have seen the people at the bakery when I ordered it) in the lobby after the show. I wasn't sure how the audience would react to all this, but they seemed to love it, with a particularly enthusiastic rendition of "Happy Birthday" and some lovely harmony from the cast. I always love it when theatre people sing that song, because it's always in three- or four-part harmony.

Then after the birthday party, a bunch of us went across the street to the Ivory Coast Bistro, which I highly recommend. The food is excellent, the prices reasonable, and it's a very cool place... and somehow we found out that Jeff has Mood Balls that change color depending on his mood. And no, I'm not talking about some kind of hip new decorative thingy -- I'm talking about testicles. Ask Jeff if you don't believe me.

So really, all in all, not a bad night, just a very fucked up one... That happens in the theatre sometimes. But things are good now, we're leaving the Ivory forever in a week (Free at last, free at least, Great God Almighty, we'll be free at last!), I had a good meal, people loved our show, and now I'm gonna relax, watch a little Twin Peaks - Season One, and smoke some primo weed. So there.

Long Live the Musical!