I am all about the culture right now. I mean, I have had throat cultures, nose cultures and, well, other gross things. I’m full of culture.
I also attended the theater with my baby sister last Friday. So, I have culture coming out of my ass.
I met my sister at my mother’s house and was pleased that Middle sister was there as well. My uncle is visiting and my mother told me that the only rule was no politics. None. We all voted the same way and we’re all grieving.
We made it about 5 minutes.
My uncle was pleased to hear the term “Cheetoh Sporkhands” even though he kept changing it to “Cheetoh Porkhands”. I was happy to eat my mother’s vegetable soup and spend time with both of my sisters.
Baby sister and I drove separately as we go home in opposite directions. She followed me and I followed the nice lady in my phone. Even though I’ve lived in the greater Cincinnati area for all but 10 of my 53 years, I am never quite sure how to navigate downtown. Here’s the super sad thing. I worked downtown for 7 years. I walked those streets nearly every day at lunch. Still. Not quite sure what street the Aronoff theater sits on.
Anyway, we pulled into the first pay lot we saw and the rows were full. The lot ended in a brick wall, so there was no graceful way to pull around and get back out.
I went first and just as I was about to pull back out on the one way street, I see a dude gesturing to me to park in the aisle over, the opposite direction of the one way street.
Does…does he want me to drive on the sidewalk? I think he wants me to drive on the sidewalk.
I drove on the sidewalk and he helped me back into a spot. At one point, he offered to get in the car and park for me, but I persevered.
My sister was behind me and did not see the guy who gestured to me. She just saw me turn against traffic down the goddamn sidewalk. She thought I lost my marbles. She said she was yelling “WOAH WOAH WOAH, my sister…what are you doing? Oh god, she’s gone crazy.”
In my family, that is a legitimate fear.
Anyway, we got decent parking spots, which was good, because I wore a short sleeve dress with a flimsy poncho. It was nippy out. I also wore my fabulous purple boots even though Randy warned me because I’d be walking too much. I told him he was being silly and I was totally right. I mean, my feet stopped hurting by Sunday night.
Baby sister was beyond excited. She had wanted to see Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Phantom of the Opera since she was in high school. A long time ago. A long long long long time ago.
I saw Phantom of the Opera somewhere between 25 and 30 years ago. I think. My ability to correctly place a memory in the right time frame is iffy. I just assume everything was around 5 years ago. Anyway, that was the first stage production I had ever attended and I loved it.
It’d be nice if I could say that I loved it so much I started attending all the theater I could, but I didn’t. I do love seeing a live show, but I haven’t made it a priority. It’s not like I haven’t seen other shows, but I haven’t seen many other shows.
The biggest problem I have with stage shows is really just one of my biggest problems. I have the attention span of a toddler on crack.
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the show, I did. The sets and effects were stunning and the singing impeccable. Still, I am me.
Well, this is awesome. Amazing. This bit is a little long, though, right? And why did they build an opera house on top of an underground lake? I would think sink holes would be an issue. And the phantom wasn’t a secret or anything. I mean, he was presenting them with a monthly bill. Real phantoms don’t submit invoices. At least I don’t think they do.
Mostly, my mind didn’t wander and the show was mostly perfect. But not quite.
I sat next to an older dude who sneezed no less than six times during the performance and pretty much kept up a solid stream of nose blowing.
Oh fuck no. Really? Goddammit so much. I just got over being sick. TWICE.
But did it stop there? No. No it did not. He apparently really loved Phantom of the Opera because he fucking hummed through the whole thing. Hummed. I mean, it wasn’t loud humming. It wasn’t audible to my sister on the other side of me, which is awesome. I would have hated for her to be distracted by the hummer in the next seat. Hey…hey hey hey. Don’t be perverted. You know what I meant.
I didn’t have the courage to tell him to cut it the fuck out. I mean, the aisles were narrow and we were one row from the very back. I wouldn’t have been able to get away. I would have had to sit there next to him and that would have made the struggle to gain real estate on our shared chair arm more awkward. There probably would have been elbow throwing and no one needs that.
Even with Sniffles McSnifferson, it was a fun time. I can’t post pictures of both me and my sister because little sister was very clear about “no goddamn pictures on the internet”. Seriously, she is very sweet. Mild mannered even. I didn’t even suggest that I would post her picture on the internet (although I was minutes away from posting our selfie on Facebook.) when she bared her teeth and snarled at me. I swear, I saw her eyes glow red. “No pictures of me anywhere.”
Honestly, I was a little afraid.
Haha. Just kidding. She’s not scary.
I guess we’re officially in the holiday season now, aren’t we? I haven’t had much in the way of holiday spirit for the past 3 or 4 years. I’m going to see if I can find some.
Here’s to hoping this week goes without a hitch. I need some hitchlessness. I’ve been full of hitch lately. I’ve been hitchful. I would like to not give a hitch. Maybe through the end of the year? Or is that asking too much?
Here’s to finding holiday spirit! I suspect it is in eggnog, but I do not enjoy drinking nutmeg flavored phlegm.