A few weeks ago I email my friend Jill about seeing The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. We've both heard amazing things about this play.
I don't mind going to theater alone, but it's always nicer to go with someone. So when Jill says she'd like to see the play too, we decide to get tickets.
The reviews have been great, and good seats (for under $250) are hard to find. Jill and I go online and discover that we have totally different seat preferences — I like orchestra while Jill prefers mezzanine. So we buy single seats. We figure we'll meet up before. But then somehow that doesn't happen.
I have a great seat, but bad neighbors. I am squished in between two gigantic people, both of whom have claimed our shared seat rest. The woman to my right is soaked in some awful-smelling perfume that is making me nauseous. And the guy in front of me is whistling, a habit I hate. Almost as annoying as someone snapping their gum.
But once the play begins, I forget my surroundings. The Curious Incident is a mesmerizing story and an emotional one. The physicality of the actors is impressive. The sensational young lead is a recent Juilliard graduate. And the inventiveness of the staging is truly extraordinary.
At intermission, I find Jill upstairs in her great mezzanine seat (I think she made the wiser choice). We talk for five minutes, if that. Then the lights dim, the second act begins, and I make it back into my seat (in that order).
I don't see Jill again.
While it's always better to see a play with a friend, sometimes it doesn't quite work out that way, even when that's the plan.
No comments:
Post a Comment