Home Is Where the Art Is

I saw the cute play Sylvia tonight, starring Matthew Broderick and Annaleigh Ashford. Yes, I got a Bueller selfie at the stagedoor but no, I won’t post it on the blog because honestly, I look like a whale. I am no slight lady but this particular angle was heinous.

True to form, I snagged a loner rush ticket because I was flying solo, and I found myself sharing an entire side box with a kid who I assumed was a standard theater gay. Until he opened his mouth.

“Have ya seen this before?” He asked, his drawl apparent.

“No. Are you from the south?” I responded.

He looked sheepish. “You could tell?”

I smiled and nodded.

“I’m from Texas. But I want to move here.”

I confessed my Georgia roots and found myself encouraging this young buck (who is, incidentally, also apparently straight) to live in NY while he is young, with no obligations. Ah, the tables have turned.

The show was fun, and siting in the box made me feel like I should have opera glasses, even though The Cort is small, it was half empty anyway, and I was close enough to have beaned Broderick in the head with a Raisinette, had the moment been appropriate.

There’s just something about going all Lincoln-and-Boothe style in one of those little boxes (perhaps a crass analogy) that truly makes you feel like you’re at the Thea-tah. Even if the play does star a cute blonde playing a dog. 

Anyway, I found my little Texan back at the stagedoor, nerding out just like I always have. I hope he has all the adventures he hopes for when he graduates from college. My, how things come full circle.

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