The Phantom of The Opera

The Phantom of The Opera was playing at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts and I have a date. I was to be there at 6: 45 sharp. But I was so excited that I lost track of time and so I was late to arrive at my aunt’s house. I abandon my car on the front lawn and climbed into her Eclipse. We take the 95 and arrive with plenty of time to spare.

I love the theater. I love the lighting, the atmosphere, and the seemingly affluent patrons as they glide about the premises, like the ghosts of nobles. Each person, dressed in their most excellent, a tiny blessing to mankind; they were the best of the best—at least for tonight, for they were to attend the theater. And even as they were lost and didn’t know where to go, they looked as if they were doing it with purpose and style.

Everyone looks as if all was right with the world, so I try my best to do the same. I arched my back, and took longer, more determined strides to the elevator. I smiled at and was smiled at in return. Once in the elevator, two older gentlemen, accompanied by their dates, provided an impromptu comedic opening, which I credit to the overpowering smell of scotch and tobacco that wandered in after them as they entered.

One man faced the opposite way of everyone else in the elevator so he was facing a woman, who I assumed was his date. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He bellowed at her much louder than our little theater’s acoustics could handle. His date and his friend, his friend’s date and the rest of us all allowed a polite buzz of laughter. I wondered whether everyone actually thought it funny or was laughing out of nervousness. I thought it was funny and appreciated the simplicity of this man’s sense of humor—I’m facing the opposite way of everyone else and I’m really close to your face; obnoxious, yet somehow brilliant. In an age of dry wit and sarcasm, we need guys like this man to be charming. “I’m the one who should be uncomfortable!” His friend, who was standing facing his much larger friend’s backside, chimed in—with considerable timing, making me aware that he was expecting a much larger donation of laughter; I wondered if we had it. The six or so of us who weren’t apart of the comedy troupe all dug down deep and gave it to him. The truth is the six of us were uncomfortable. These well-dressed, affluent, drunk ladies and gentlemen broke the unspoken rule of not interacting with strangers in enclosed spaces (elevator, bus, train). No one knows how to act when this happens.

The elevator doors opened from the opposite side that we entered from. I looked at the man who was facing the wrong way, pasted on my theatrical smile, and said, “It looks like you were the one facing the right way” His eyes lit up like I were the Watson to his Sherlock and I had finally come up with something. Everyone laughed. And I knew I was meant for the stage.

I think they were giving away crack in the ladies restroom; the line was too long for any other explanation. We took our seats, and shortly after, the show began. It was wonderful.

At one point during the show, just a few rows behind me and to the left, someone’s phone begins to go off. And you know how that goes. Immediately that person’s humiliation is thrust outward onto anyone who is in the vicinity and could be confused as the “idiot who couldn’t follow simple instructions” A similar phenomenon occurs when someone in a group of people farts; the degrees of disgrace grow less compelling the further you’re sat from that person. So those closest to him are probably horrified and asking, of all people, why he had to be the one sat next to them; and those furthest from him, though still affected, feel a mild tinge of embarrassment for that person, but not for themselves—there will be no one confusing them for the culprit. Fortunately, I feel no more than a tad bit embarrassed for that poor person, whom I could easily identify with. In fact, I checked my phone several times to make sure it was on vibrate, and finally just shut it off after envisioning it going off during the production. One can never be too prepared. What makes the situation worse is that it isn’t during a song, so the AT&T theme is now being written into the play as the sound bounces off the walls like a spoilt child and forces itself upon the ears of everyone in the theater. After the longest 20 seconds of this person’s life, they finally get it to stop. And then it starts again. “Jesus Christ! Turn it off!”came the desperate whisper of someone seated at ground zero, wallowing in second-hand humiliation. As one after another everyone seated in the center mezzanine section exchanged scandalized looks, I focused on the play, content that it wasn’t me.

The rest of the show went by smoothly. Now I can mark that show off my list. Tomorrow I’ll travel to the keys to bring in the New Years. I think it’s fitting to bring in the New Year traveling.

Song: The Point of No Return- Andre Lloyd Webber