Sunday in the Park with a Bunch of Baptists

Wife and I went to see a musical, Sunday Afternoon in the Park with George at the Boiler Room Theatre this past Friday night. From Wikipedia: “The musical was inspired by the painting "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat. A complex work revolving around a fictionalized Seurat immersed in single-minded concentration while painting the masterpiece, its Broadway production was greeted with mixed praise by the critics.”

If anyone cared, Wikipedia could add “as well as the attendees at the Boiler Room theatre.” One of the couples who went with us left at the intermission. They were joined by maybe 10% of the rest of the crowd. Normally at the end of a show, the cast lines up and people walk by and shake hands with them and do “good job” just like little boys after a tee-ball game. Friday night—I’m not exagerating here—people (including my wife and I) just ran past the cast shouting out greetings and expressions of appreciation. I’ve never seen anything like it.

All-in-all, I’m glad I went. I think it was probably too little story spread over too long, but from the middle of the first act through probably the first scene in the second act, I really liked it. I know that for the first twenty minutes or so I stared at the stage and the performers with a “what is that on your shirt” look. And then the last part of the second act was just lame I thought—from a story standpoint. This YouTube clip gives you a good idea about the whole play. The songs aren’t exactly soaring tunes with broad beautiful rounded lyrics. As Willie Nelson sang, "He ain't wrong he's just different." This musical was different, and I would probably like to see it again or hear the music again. The last thing I ever want to be is someone who dismisses art or ideas because it doesn't look or sound like what I'm accustomed to.

Wife and I, along with two other couples we have Boiler Room tickets with, ate at TGI Fridays before the show. We know these couples from our Sunday school class at church. Ever heard that joke “Jews don’t recognized Jesus, Protestants don’t recognize the Pope, and Baptists don’t recognize each other in the liquor store.” Well, that’s what this was like, as the two women said things like “What’s a Mojito?” and “I had a girlfriend one time who drank several glasses of Long Island Iced Tea and passed out.” The most rebellious I dared get was to order the Jack Daniels burger, which is what I always order anyway.

We had a young waitress. She was cute in a way if a piercing through the eyebrow and a tattoo on the inside of a wrist does anything for you (my hand is raised), although she didn’t have 15 pieces of flair even if you count the visible piercings and tattoos. I noticed towards the end of the meal that Wife was really irritated. When we got the car, she unleashed, saying the waitress had pissed her off because she “ignored the women at the table”, “served the men first” and asked if I noticed that me and the guy sitting next to me “were the only ones she brought refills to.” (There was a third male at the table, but, according to my wife he “never drank much of his coke to begin with, so he never needed a refill.”) No, I didn’t notice. If I had, I would have thought it had more to do with where me and the other guy sat, close to the traffic aisle.

Apparently this favoritism is a common thing among waitresses “around here” and it really makes my wife mad. I didn’t bother suggesting that next time if she wanted a refill that she should just use her big girl voice and say “Ma’am, when you find yourself holding a tea pitcher again…” I also didn’t bother saying “Well, that waitress certainly must know her target audience, because I tipped her 20%.” I just kept quiet and said something like “Oh. I never noticed.”

Oh well. I wasn’t a big fan of going to TGI Friday’s in the first place. But, then given the company we were keeping, Tin Roof 2 over on Caruthers probably wouldn’t be a very workable solution. I can imagine the trouble as we sat on the patio and I ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks and lit up a cigarette while a twenty-something cutie took our order in her little white tank top.