A Fancy Night at the Thea-tah

25 07 2007

Do you all remember me telling you about my brief relationship with the Ringmaster of the Let’s Pretend Circus?

Damn. I love saying that. Just seems so fitting for me somehow.

I check up on his career every so often by searching for him on Google. He keeps busy in the Seattle theatre scene and seems to be doing pretty well. The last time I checked I discovered that he was going to be the Pharaoh in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat“.

I have never seen “Joseph” and the kids were gone, so I thought it would be nice to sneak into the theatre undetected and not only see and enjoy a show, but also satisfy my curiosity about him.

I have not interest in being with him, but when one can just spy so easily…it’s hard not to quench that. Plus, it is really nice sometimes to be reminded of the fact that at one point I had a fantastic sex life. You know?

Megan and I got tickets for Friday night. The kids were gone. We both needed a break. .

We met at my house after work and drove her minivan (the VW bug was too dangerous in the rain) toward Seattle. Traffic was terrible and we spent the beginning of our night stuck in the worst traffic jam ever. Megan is a worrier – something that just does not come naturally to me – so I think this part of the evening was horrible for her.

As usually is the case in worrisome situations, everything turned out just fine and we arrived at the theatre with 5 entire minutes to spare.

I had read on the website that it was a small theatre, and I started to really get the picture when we were crowded into the minuscule lobby with all of 15 other people while waiting in the Will Call line.

Our tickets noted that we were in Row B.

Row B. Isn’t that a bit CLOSE to the stage to go silent and undetected?

Megan had mentioned that she felt we were really close, but she had tried all possible combinations and could not come up with worse seats….

Well, Row B could easily be following 26 rows of AA, BB, CC, etc. Right?


Alas, that is not right.

There were approximately 10 rows of seats facing the stage, two rows in a U-shaped balcony and three rows bordering the right and left sides of the stage. We had the great luck of being in the “Left” section on the side of the stage.

And did I mention there was no such thing as Row A?

Um, yeah.

We were smack dab in front of the center part of “Stage Right” (or left? I always get confused). And when I say smack dab, let me tell you that the stage is only two steps up from the floor. And the first step is incredibly close to Row B. So close that when I crossed my legs my foot jutted jauntily over the step itself – and this seemed to be discouraged – as spelled out a few different times in the playbill.

So there I sat, uncomfortably upright, wondering aloud whether we should just cut our losses and flee right then and there. Then I stoically stated, “No. No! We paid $25 each for these tickets. We ARE NOT leaving.”

No sooner had I taken my stand when it all started. There was dancing, there was singing, there was sitting on the stage directly in front of me by all actors besides him (thank God). If I would have been in Seat 14 Row B RIGHT, however, I would have been even more screwed in the “let’s try not be noticed” category. He seemed to be continually dancing, singing or sitting on that side of the stage for the entire performance.

I sat through almost the entire show with my crazy curly hair up in a hair stick ,with the thought that if anything would give me away in a crowd, it would be my semi-out-of-control hair. So up it went. I was sure that my 6 foot tall frame or my trademark giggle would NEVER give me away. Oh no, not in a million years.

And it actually seemed to be working. He was on the other side of the stage. My hair was controlled. I laughed softly into my hands.

And then the end of the play came.

And the standing ovation.

I really, really did not want to stand up. I’m too tall. I’m right on the side of the stage. And…damn….he switched sides of the stage for the curtain call.

But sitting seemed to make me even stand out more, so I stood. “Great,” I said to Megan, “Now I have to be all tall and stuff.”

And then my hair stick began to slip. Curls popped out, one at a time at first, then more and more rapidly – poing! poing! poing! It was everywhere.

Megan said I actually whispered, horrified, “Oh god. There is goes.”

And then I started laughing.

I’m pretty sure he had seen me at almost immediately when I stood – even before the hair accident. But I could not look. I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. Megan joined in and it was all over. My cover was blown into infinitesimal bits.

I think it should have been called “Shari and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” instead.




3 responses

26 07 2007


Super-spy you definitely ain’t…

Or maybe it was cosmic forces trying to tell you that you were supposed to be noticed?

26 07 2007


So? Did he talk to you?

I must admit that “Stephanie Plum” popped into my head when I read this post.

– If you haven’t read the ‘SP’ series by Janet Evanovich, you should. You ARE Stephanie Plum! (In this case…)

30 07 2007

A 6-foot crazy haired Norwegian girl who doesn’t mind going topless.

I could go cicada all over you.


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