good decision

A friend and I were scheduled to see Jitney a few weeks ago. Neither one of us had any interest in the play; It came with our subscription package to Manhattan Theater Club (MTC).

My friend cancelled outright; I rescheduled for a matinee today.

I wake up and decide to cancel. 

I call MTC.

Tim, a never-met friend who works in the subscription office, tells me the play is  fantastic and I'd be crazy to miss it. I consider rescheduling again, but know that if I don't feel like going today, I won't feel like going a week from today. I tell Tim I'll think about it and hang up — and then argue with myself the rest of the morning.

I really don't feel like going into midtown. 
I know this is a ridiculous argument. It's easy enough to get there. And it's not like it's raining or snowing.

I haven't loved any other August Wilson play that I've seen. In fact, I fell asleep during the recent movie-version of Fences.
But he is an important playwright.

I don't like dialogue-driven plays. I hated Conor McPherson's The Weir, for example, and that won all sorts of big awards.
But the reviews on this production of Jitney have been universally excellent.

I just went to a play last night.
So what, people visit NY just to see  good theater. And besides, it's not like I'm sacrificing other plans.

I don't really want to go.
But I feel guilty not going.  

It's two and a half hours long.
I can always leave at intermission if I hate it.

Finally, around one, I decide to go. I grab a yogurt, throw on some makeup, and leave. The play starts at two. I just make it.

Everyone seated around me is decades older than I am and short. I have a perfect, unobstructed view seat, just five rows from the stage.

By the time the riveting first act ends, I'm totally hooked. 

Thank-you Tim; I'm glad I listened.