We had a familiar face in the audience tonight. Back after seeing our Shakespearian tragedy less than two months ago, it appears James Franco is a loyal patron of the theatre. We had an almost identical conversation to our last (oh my that was fun to say. Let’s be honest- we’re totally bffs now), he was seated in my section. Again. I cursed myself for not having seen Pineapple Express last weekend and vow to see it asap- date or no date, in sickness or in health. Though had I seen it, I doubt I would have talked to him about it, however much I’d want to. He did his very best to keep a low profile and totally succeeded- I saw no one go up to him- I would have hated to ruin that. He seems like such a nice guy.
It’s already been 5 weeks of this show and still two to go and yet some how I still enjoy watching it. I’ve come to realize ushers may be the only people who truly get to appreciate all aspects of a show. We get to see all the tiny details that you just start to see after your tenth viewing. I doubt anyone appreciates the amazing work of the ensemble- I’ve begun to watch them more than the leads. I get to see all the individual stories and relationships that they’ve created which become even more interesting than the main action. It’s so fun to look everywhere but the place your eye is initially drawn. I just don’t know how I’m going to deal after this job ends when I can barely afford to see shows once. I’m spoiled. Sigh. My life is so hard.
The opening night party for this show was quite different from the last. I almost missed opening night as I had planned to take the weekend off and travel out of the city, out of the state, via plane. Instead I planned it out perfectly (so I thought). I booked a flight that left at 7am. Thus the plan: partying until the wee hours of the mourn, then taking the subway to JFK, then getting on the plane and sleeping the whole plane ride. A bit ambitious but totally doable and a time saver. The plan was made more doable by a much more low-key nature of this opening compared to the season opening gala. There was no pre-show dinner, no speeches from the mayor, no red carpet, no celebs. No cute caterers to flirt with. Which left me only with audience member prospects and I’m not comfortable flirting with audience members because it feels undeniably unprofessional. Unless they flirt with me first. Which actually worked out very well for me.
He was impossible not to notice. First because he was the guest of the man who created the show and second because he was freaking tall, at least 6’7″ if not more. And he was cute.
I on the other hand am very easy not to notice. There are 20 other people dressed identically to me in their khakis and blue STAFF issued shirt. STAFF is written in big letters across my chest and generally people behave like it is both my full name and full identity, so it’s always fun when someone takes a moment to realize my life dream is probably not ushering and that there is a lot going on under “Hi, may I help you find your seat?”
6’7 Guy immediately acknowledged this predicament upon entering the theater. He returned my “Hi” and complemented the flower in my hair (yes I’m a San Francisco flower child, I’ve embraced it) Nice flower, are those staff issued to? with a smile and a wink.
There is something about me that attracts winks. I get winked at 20 times a day. By men of all ages, shapes, colors and occasionally women. 6’7 Guy’s wink made sense to me. An “I’m kidding and possibly flirting with you”. The random winks by street passersby are much more confusing. What do they mean: You’re cute? I’d hit that? I have appreciation for your presence on this earth? There’s something in my eye? I knew you in a past life? I don’t know! Winks are more confusing than the illusive facebook poke.
to be continued..
(I haven’t posted in forever- you need new reads. I’ve been working on this post for awhile and hopefully posting it will inspire me to complete it. Your comments can effect the finished product!)
[edit April 25, 2013: This post was never finished. 6’7″ Guy became the only successful no-strings-attached affair I have ever had. We kept in touch for over a year, until I lost interest. He thought I was a wild child, I never learned his last name. It was a perfect affair, of Sex and the City proportions. I will always remember it fondly.]