I’d hoped to be giving a report on the stage play of 1984 I was supposed to see Friday night, but, alas, we did not make it. Prior to the show, Robert and I popped into Warren’s for a couple of drinks. Wanted to be well-lubed before having to sit through the torture scenes (just like watching the evening news!). We left Warren’s in plenty of time to make it to the Wortham, take a quick potty break and then find our (free) seats. Didn’t realize until we got outside that a fucking monsoon had blown into downtown. One of the great things about Warren’s is its removal from real life. It’s a den, a cave, a place to drown your sorrows and celebrate your victories without thinking about what is on the other side of the door. The bad thing is, we were totally unprepared for this rain. We decided to quickly hoof it the two or three blocks to the Wortham. It began to rain harder. By the time we reached the theatre, not only was my shirt wet, my bra was soaked, my jeans were wet up to the knee, my hair was stringy and my mascara had run. Pretty girl. Robert had similar problems, minus the bra and mascara. We couldn’t sit through a two-hour show in sopping wet clothes, so we had to blow it off. I’m so bummed to have missed it. And of course the rain left as quickly as it came. We just timed our walk back to the theatre at the worst possible moment. So, we went to Catbirds and continued drinking. The night wasn’t a total wash.
References to 1984 are popping up everywhere lately. If you haven’t seen the Keith Olbermann smackdown video, here’s a link to a transcript of Keith’s statement that also has links to video versions of the entire thing.