The second part is that a wonderful reader of this blog and now friend of mine named Seana very sweetly gave me her last minute tickets to Stuck Elevator, the play (that closes Sunday) at ACT. All of my friends were booked for Saturday night because they are very cool, including the ones who have so many plans, I get their back-ups.
Hey, I have stuff to do, people to see. But I happened to be free this Saturday night. I decided that I am a confident adult woman, and I can go to a work of live art by myself. Plus, if I ran into anyone I thought might judge me, I would just use the greatest/worst excuse for doing anything embarrassing ever, "Oh, this is for a blog post."
I put on some cute clothes. I did my hair. I ate a turkey sandwich. I drove myself to Union Square, and I told Will Call that I was Seana.
Great, they said, and handed over the tickets.
I was in the glamorous orchestra section and even had a "safety seat" next to me, which I soon realized made it look like I got stood up. I told myself that people who go to a play about a immigrant delivery man who gets stuck in a Bronx elevator for 81 hours don't really care who is with or without whom.
The play began at 8, and it was really interesting.
At 8:10, someone's phone went began to ring.
My phone was off. I'm not an idiot, and certainly not new to theater etiquette. Who's the asshole, I wondered, staring into the heads in front of me. Everyone within 10 rows looked around, myself included. C'mon guys.
So... it was my phone, obviously. My alarm was set for 8:10pm, and not 8:10am as I'd assumed. The silent mode doesn't work for alarms, and when I think about why that feature exists, it makes sense. This all happened because I am very old, had nothing to do on a perfectly good Saturday night, and am dumb. I am the asshole in the theater, folks. I, the adult woman who loves to talk on the phone with her mother about which actor stormed off of which stage over a cell phone, was the asshole with the cell phone playing "TIMBA" for what felt like eternity before I realized it was my morning alarm.
In retrospect, thank God I was alone...
|My mother took this in New York at the intermission of Newsies, which is is equally embarrassing.|