A Trip to the TheaTre~

Yesterday, my mother and I went to a play in Glendale, put on by a small theater company. The play was excellent, well-priced, and worth the drive.

It is an old building that has housed the theatre, a family venture, for years. The current manager is the grandson of the founders. The lobby employees pull double duty, collecting tickets, playing usher, and working in the small concession area.

The restrooms are upstairs. To their credit, the owner has installed at least 12 cubicles and a nice sink area in the ladies’ room. The women ALWAYS have to wait in line at intermission. As luck will have it, that is when all the women in attendance have to use the restroom.

I often tell the women towards the end of the line, where I usually am, that “we can storm the men’s restroom ladies, what do you say? Who’s with me?”

Usually there are smiles and some fake bravado, but yesterday there was just more grumbling. One woman in particular went ON AND ON about how SICK she is of climbing those stairs. She wasn’t feeble, she looked to be in good health and her age was somewhere around mine. Granted, she could have some debilitating illness, but she never mentioned that – only the fact that she, a well-dressed middle class woman well-acquainted with the risks and benefits of plastic surgery, was SICK of climbing a lousy set of stairs. Since the plays change about every other month, I am guessing those six trips a year are exhausting.

This was the same woman who whined about coffee not being included as part of the package. When you buy a ticket to the play, you get a complimentary soft drink. She stood behind me in line and bellowed about it to anyone and everyone who would listen. Since it is a small theater lobby, it is safe to guess that everyone had to listen, including the very pleasant and hard-working employees.

I forked over a couple bucks for a refillable cup of coffee. When I stepped aside, she began barking drink instructions to the young lady behind the drink counter. She wanted seltzer water – the kind used to mix the sodas, she said, but a bit of lemonade had to be added to the mixture with just the right amount of ice. NO… that was too much, pour it out. The drink has to be just THIS much seltzer water and THIS much lemonade and the ice has to be added AFTER the mixture has a chance to, you know, MIX.

This is a “theatre in the round.” There are no bad seats. But for a woman who has to have her lemonade and seltzer water mixed just so, the dearth of acceptable seats was just abominable. She stood on the stage, looking around, agitated and pontificating.

Apparently, the woman she picked up was LATE and spent TOO MUCH TIME IN THE BATHROOM AT MC DONALDS. So, they couldn’t get here in time to secure her “usual seats.”

An elderly gentleman sitting across the aisle caught my eye during this diatribe. He must have been present for the others, since his wife was rolling her eyes and hiding behind her program. He looked around and then leaned over to me and whispered, “it must be a BITCH being her.”