Oh the wonderous world...
"The adrenaline of a live performance is unlike anything in film or theater. I can see why it's so addictive. " -Gwyneth Paltrow
Has ever a truer statement been quoted?
I've tossed around the way in which to impart this next little tid-bit of my NYC tale. Unfortunately, there's really no way to explain what happened to me this (shall I call it ill-fated) night, without revealing more about myself than I probably should. But some stories demand to be told. Some stories are so amazing, so jaw-dropping that even if the beholder worries that the judgement awaiting her at the end of her confession is so severe her reputation will never recover, there is still no way around the fact that if the moral of the story is not released to the Universe (via mouth, keyboard, braille) the sky will rain frogs and nothing will be the same again...
This is not one of those stories...I tell it anyway.
In the interest of those involved in this "based on true events" tale, I will be using pseudonyms for the characters involved.
It all started one Friday night at Fanny's loft. Fanny, Devan, and Beautiful Girl(Bea for short) had decided to snack on cranberry bread and goat cheese while shooting beer every minute for an hour, an activity affectionately dubbed, Power Hour. They danced, they sang, they fashioned wigs on each other and took incriminating pictures. A grand time was being had the and spirits were high. So high, in fact, that divine inspiration struck and the trio felt driven to create a piece of theatre that no one who witnessed it (the ten people on the L train at 11pm) would ever forget. And so, they planned a loose script, a silly plot and they set off into the night, Fanny and Bea arm in arm, so believable a couple that Devan might even have become slightly jealous himself, remember: Devan and Fanny had just celebrated their one year anniversary of near-wedded bliss... When they got into the subway, the trio split and the scene began. Fanny and Bea portrayed a lovely couple, drunk on each other's company (or bud lite) enjoying their ride into the City and Devan expertly tackled the part of the lonely spinster on the prowl for sweet sweet lovin... The playlet commenced with few flaws, the passengers on the L were being given a show like they'd never seen, Fanny and Bea delivered. Finally, the time came to proceed into Act II and Fanny laid his head down in Bea's lap and fell fast asleep. Devan set into action, after eyeing Bea for the last 3 stops from across the train's narrow aisle, he made his move. Devan seductively settled down next to Bea, Fanny the only obstacle keeping the two star-crossed lovers apart, and the passenger audience became intrigued as to what secret these two apparent strangers were keeping.
Cut to the element of surprise...
Onto the train struts the Top Hatted Killer. A lovely boy/man/lady clad in a tux, red satin bow tie, dirty blond wig and top hat. Devan and Bea, although highly skilled in improv, found it impossible not to break character for a few seconds to appreciate the fantastic gift they had just been given. Bea even felt the need to stir Fanny to make sure he got at least a glimpse of the wonderful character about to unexpectedly enter the scene... After the initial thrill wore off, Bea and Devan set right back to work, leading their scene into climax. They shot seductive glances at each other and were just about to throw Fanny on the ground and fall head first into their own love affair (all meticulously planned by theatrical experts, of course) when, from across the train they hear...
"Do you have problem?"
Rising action halted.
"Do you have a problem...?"
Bea glances at the Top Hatted Killer, certainly he wasn't talking to her.
"That's right, bitch. I'm talking to you. Do you have a f***ing problem? God, I fuc*ing hate girls. Ugh. I will fuc*ing kill you..."
Bea utters in disbelief "...me.." (Who hates girls?)
"Yes, bitch, you're in New York City now. What, you think your little boyfriend asleep on your lap can protect you?"
Cue Fanny's dramatic awakening, a stretch and a big yawn. (To his credit, Fanny was the last to drop his original character. Can it also be noted here that Fanny and Bea were such great actors that even a born performer like the Top Hatted Killer was fooled into thinking they were a couple.) Now that the scene had evolved into... SOMETHING more beautiful than the trio could have ever dreamt, they could really do nothing but sit and watch the play unfold. The Top Hatted Killer had stolen the show. And he continued...
"What, are you from TEXAS? You must be from Texas?"
To which Devan retorted "YES, we are from Texas, how DID you know?" Only further agitating T.H.K. and causing his face to scrunch and his eyes to burn red...
At this point, it probably would have been a good idea for Bea to grab hold of that mace keychain her mother had given her upon her move to New York, but adrenaline seems to cloud the brain and all three players found themselves melded to their plastic subway seats in awe of their new acquaintance. And they most likely could have stayed there forever in the presence of such a creature of wonder, but alas, the train reached their stop and they were forced to reluctantly exit and abandon the lady killer. But not without a pleasant goodbye and a look that they all hoped conveyed their admiration of the Top Hatted Killer, the one, the lady, the boy, the man, who, without even having to drunkenly plan a scene, waltzed in and stole the entire show. Bravo.
As for the moral imparted to the Universe: You are judged by the company you belong.
Has ever a truer statement been quoted?
I've tossed around the way in which to impart this next little tid-bit of my NYC tale. Unfortunately, there's really no way to explain what happened to me this (shall I call it ill-fated) night, without revealing more about myself than I probably should. But some stories demand to be told. Some stories are so amazing, so jaw-dropping that even if the beholder worries that the judgement awaiting her at the end of her confession is so severe her reputation will never recover, there is still no way around the fact that if the moral of the story is not released to the Universe (via mouth, keyboard, braille) the sky will rain frogs and nothing will be the same again...
This is not one of those stories...I tell it anyway.
In the interest of those involved in this "based on true events" tale, I will be using pseudonyms for the characters involved.
It all started one Friday night at Fanny's loft. Fanny, Devan, and Beautiful Girl(Bea for short) had decided to snack on cranberry bread and goat cheese while shooting beer every minute for an hour, an activity affectionately dubbed, Power Hour. They danced, they sang, they fashioned wigs on each other and took incriminating pictures. A grand time was being had the and spirits were high. So high, in fact, that divine inspiration struck and the trio felt driven to create a piece of theatre that no one who witnessed it (the ten people on the L train at 11pm) would ever forget. And so, they planned a loose script, a silly plot and they set off into the night, Fanny and Bea arm in arm, so believable a couple that Devan might even have become slightly jealous himself, remember: Devan and Fanny had just celebrated their one year anniversary of near-wedded bliss... When they got into the subway, the trio split and the scene began. Fanny and Bea portrayed a lovely couple, drunk on each other's company (or bud lite) enjoying their ride into the City and Devan expertly tackled the part of the lonely spinster on the prowl for sweet sweet lovin... The playlet commenced with few flaws, the passengers on the L were being given a show like they'd never seen, Fanny and Bea delivered. Finally, the time came to proceed into Act II and Fanny laid his head down in Bea's lap and fell fast asleep. Devan set into action, after eyeing Bea for the last 3 stops from across the train's narrow aisle, he made his move. Devan seductively settled down next to Bea, Fanny the only obstacle keeping the two star-crossed lovers apart, and the passenger audience became intrigued as to what secret these two apparent strangers were keeping.
Cut to the element of surprise...
Onto the train struts the Top Hatted Killer. A lovely boy/man/lady clad in a tux, red satin bow tie, dirty blond wig and top hat. Devan and Bea, although highly skilled in improv, found it impossible not to break character for a few seconds to appreciate the fantastic gift they had just been given. Bea even felt the need to stir Fanny to make sure he got at least a glimpse of the wonderful character about to unexpectedly enter the scene... After the initial thrill wore off, Bea and Devan set right back to work, leading their scene into climax. They shot seductive glances at each other and were just about to throw Fanny on the ground and fall head first into their own love affair (all meticulously planned by theatrical experts, of course) when, from across the train they hear...
"Do you have problem?"
Rising action halted.
"Do you have a problem...?"
Bea glances at the Top Hatted Killer, certainly he wasn't talking to her.
"That's right, bitch. I'm talking to you. Do you have a f***ing problem? God, I fuc*ing hate girls. Ugh. I will fuc*ing kill you..."
Bea utters in disbelief "...me.." (Who hates girls?)
"Yes, bitch, you're in New York City now. What, you think your little boyfriend asleep on your lap can protect you?"
Cue Fanny's dramatic awakening, a stretch and a big yawn. (To his credit, Fanny was the last to drop his original character. Can it also be noted here that Fanny and Bea were such great actors that even a born performer like the Top Hatted Killer was fooled into thinking they were a couple.) Now that the scene had evolved into... SOMETHING more beautiful than the trio could have ever dreamt, they could really do nothing but sit and watch the play unfold. The Top Hatted Killer had stolen the show. And he continued...
"What, are you from TEXAS? You must be from Texas?"
To which Devan retorted "YES, we are from Texas, how DID you know?" Only further agitating T.H.K. and causing his face to scrunch and his eyes to burn red...
At this point, it probably would have been a good idea for Bea to grab hold of that mace keychain her mother had given her upon her move to New York, but adrenaline seems to cloud the brain and all three players found themselves melded to their plastic subway seats in awe of their new acquaintance. And they most likely could have stayed there forever in the presence of such a creature of wonder, but alas, the train reached their stop and they were forced to reluctantly exit and abandon the lady killer. But not without a pleasant goodbye and a look that they all hoped conveyed their admiration of the Top Hatted Killer, the one, the lady, the boy, the man, who, without even having to drunkenly plan a scene, waltzed in and stole the entire show. Bravo.
As for the moral imparted to the Universe: You are judged by the company you belong.
Comments