Everything but the $9 cake
Tonight was a little different night, instead of the usual bad television and hang-over fighting water pounding ritual, I went to see a musical...in Los Angeles. A friend called me (or rather IM'ed) and asked if I wanted to go with a group of people to see "Wicked" at the Pantages. With an extra ticket left in the wings, I took her up on the offer and met everyone at the theatre for the show.
I arrived a bit early and ducked into the bar next door for a pre-show Bud. Standing solo at the bar, caught in the dilemma of tipping $.75 or throwing the extra dollar and making it a tip that is too large but not having to deal with change, I surrendered the full five for my three and a quarter beer. At the end of the bar, a group of three were doing flaming shots, and behind them a man was talking to his dog, who was allowed in because he was near the door. It was a mix of theater goers dressed up with the people who you would normally find in a bar on a Sunday night on the shady part of Hollywood Blvd.
The show was outstanding - having forgot how much I enjoy the big production value of a Broadway show, I sat and enjoyed the music, the story and the beautiful theatre. A little under three hours after it began we all headed for the street, to slowly break off in our separate directions. I said my good nights and headed for my car, and eventually across town back home. It was a great way to finish my weekend but the only thing missing was the $9 cake. For some reason, it always seems to me that after a night at the theatre, I would end up in some cafe, in which ever city I was currently in trying to prolong the cultured feeling that I was reveling in, and would end up having a big piece of $9 cake to finish the night. It was always too rich, and of course I shouldn't finish it all but I always would. It was the way you ended an evening like that - with a big piece of cake.
So that was my Sunday evening, it was a great evening but I miss the $9 cake.
I arrived a bit early and ducked into the bar next door for a pre-show Bud. Standing solo at the bar, caught in the dilemma of tipping $.75 or throwing the extra dollar and making it a tip that is too large but not having to deal with change, I surrendered the full five for my three and a quarter beer. At the end of the bar, a group of three were doing flaming shots, and behind them a man was talking to his dog, who was allowed in because he was near the door. It was a mix of theater goers dressed up with the people who you would normally find in a bar on a Sunday night on the shady part of Hollywood Blvd.
The show was outstanding - having forgot how much I enjoy the big production value of a Broadway show, I sat and enjoyed the music, the story and the beautiful theatre. A little under three hours after it began we all headed for the street, to slowly break off in our separate directions. I said my good nights and headed for my car, and eventually across town back home. It was a great way to finish my weekend but the only thing missing was the $9 cake. For some reason, it always seems to me that after a night at the theatre, I would end up in some cafe, in which ever city I was currently in trying to prolong the cultured feeling that I was reveling in, and would end up having a big piece of $9 cake to finish the night. It was always too rich, and of course I shouldn't finish it all but I always would. It was the way you ended an evening like that - with a big piece of cake.
So that was my Sunday evening, it was a great evening but I miss the $9 cake.
posted by Steddy at
9:59 PM
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