The play on Saturday, dis Oriented, is about three generations of a Korean family. It is much better than we anticipate. It’s always nice to be surprised by good theater. We part around 6, with the intent of eating separately and meeting up later for a movie. That never happens. I end up eating leftover steak (still breathtakingly wonderful, albeit small), and then staying in and doing nothing.
Sunday Robyn and I go to another matinee. This off-Broadway production, The Apple Cove, sounds promising. We get to the theater and while the location of our seats is excellent, our neighboring audience members are not. The woman directly behind Robyn, who must weight close to 300 pounds, is slumped in her seat coughing ferociously without covering her mouth. The man to my left is about the same size as the woman behind Robyn and he is uncomfortably overflowing into my chair. He smiles pleasantly but makes no attempt to respect the boundaries of our seating. Before the play starts, I hear an usher approach the woman behind Robyn, who appears to have dropped her playbill into the aisle. “Oh here, ma’am, I think you dropped this,” she says as she hands the woman her playbill. “I DIDN’T DROP IT,“ she screams. “I DON’T WANT IT. THAT’S WHY IT’S THERE.” Okay, now I know there must be something wrong with this woman as no one could be that rude naturally. My observation is later confirmed when she burps loudly and sporadically throughout the entire, mind-numbing play.
Aside from its appealing length and some nice performances, Apple Cove is exactly the theater genre I most loathe: part absurdist comedy/part farce. Robyn and I are both happy when the play ends.
I get home and have a relaxing, unhealthy dinner of pizza and apple pie with Alexander while watching The Disappearance of Alice Creed. No coughing. No burping. No rudeness. No constricted seating. Intriguing movie. Great company. Perfect.
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