We handed our tickets to the usher and were led to our seats. Something was wrong, very very wrong. We lowered the average age in the room to about 65 just by walking into the little theater. This did not bode well for the evening, our date night for the month.
The house lights went down, the stage lights went up. And the hell began.
No dialogue, no story line. It was MEDLEY!!!! the whole evening. One early 50s song after another.
We did not dare look at one another; we would have lost it.
How bad was it? We were both considering faking an emergency call from the sitter so we could get the hell out of there. The problem? We could not have been further from the door if we had been onstage ourselves. The theater sat, maybe, 200 people.
How bad was it? Prom kids were outside the theater, smoking. I’ve never had a cigarette in my life and I was about to go over and beg a smoke. I needed to get the excessive saccharine out of my system.
How bad was it? Tom came home and had dry heaves. OK, that might have been dinner not sitting well with him, but I’m sure the show didn’t help.
In their defense, the singers were very talented. I really felt for the backup band; I’m sure it wasn’t water in their water bottles.
We’ve never left at intermission for anything. The stage lights went down, the house lights went up, and we dashed for the door.
I cannot recommend The Taffetas unless you’ve been pulling down a Social Security check for about a decade. I don’t care if the show was part of a subscription series (guess how we got our tickets), let.it.go. Your brain, your mental health itself, will thank me.
And all I could think was, I got a sitter for this?