I have had my first experience with Stage West Dinner Theatre. And what's-her-face, Dawn something-or-other from Gilligan's Island, who was in the play. And I have also learned something: CHIVALRY IS NOT ENTIRELY DEAD, DAMMIT!
Well, it is in our youth and adolescent generation. Hell, not only is it dead: it's (like King Taur Urgas in the Belgariad-Malloreon series by David Eddings) had it's throat cut, been stabbed a couple of times and was buried head-first ten feet underground with a tight scarf around it's neck, just to make sure.
I'm not talking about our adolescent generation, however. I'm talking about our average Stage-West attending crowd: old. Fucking old. Well, in my opinion.
What IS Stage West, you ask? Well, it's a dinner theatre. With an all-you-can-eat buffet and a crazily expensive ticket. How did I, of all people, end up there? With my father, no less? Well, he had tickets and no one to take. I was the prime candidate for (shudder for all of us teens out there) bonding time. Besides, I like theatre and love food. Besides, in case it was 18 and over (it wasn't), I could get in.
Today was the last day of the Show and Sale. I'll go on about that tomorrow (if I'm not dead), so that I can devote my attention to the convos I had there and the show itself.
First, it was a semi-formal place. Unlike the teens who seem to feel that dressing up is a clean pair of jeans, this is taken seriously. My dad, who was wearing jeans and a dressy top, was nearly denied entrance. Though I'm not exactly a snob, it was kinda nice to be around people who actually took the time to dress up, no matter how old they were. Also, I got treated like a (gasp) lady. This is why I'll never be a feminist: inside, I'm secretly thrilled when a guy treats me like I'm something special or delicate, not some cica who swears a lot, has short hair and can kick most guys asses.
Like, when I came back form my first trip to the buffet, a waiter happened to be walking by. I went to pull out my chair and sit down and he went 'here, let me' and pulled my chair out for me, not because I had my hands full or anything, but as a courtesy because I was a cica (girl, in case you were wondering). It was very gentleman-y of him. I know it's not part of his job because I saw lots of chicks sitting down and he didn't offer to pull out all of their chairs for them. Then again, I was the only one who looked under 25. Hell, under 30.
I dunno. I guess I'm old-fashioned at heart. Not that I'd want to stay at home and do nothing my entire life but look after my kids and clean. In fact, that's kinda my worst nightmare. But little things, like having the guy ask you out instead of vice-versa, being offered his coat when you're cold, having your chair pulled out for you... Like I said, they make me feel like I'm something special. Not that I won't ask someone else out, offer my coat to a dude if he's cold, or sit down unless my chair is pulled out. But it does give the guy mucho brownie points (taking notes yet?). Too bad chivalry is deader than Elvis in people my age.
As for the play itself... It was called something like "Tales from the Allergist's Wife" and starred, like I said, that cica from Gilligan's Island... Mary-Ann... Uh... Dawn More? Dawn something-or-other. It was supremely amusing, made me think, and I even wrote down some quotes from the old Jewish mother-grandmother chick, who was probably one of my favorite characters (there were only 5, but what the hell), including the title of this post. I also liked the reply another male character said a minute later to something else she said in addition... "She's an equal-oppurtunity fuck-you-er" Neehee. "There will be no international acts of terrorism in this house!" was another of the ones I liked.
Sadly, it finished. Yeah, I know that it was bound to happen, but hey. Whatevah, dahlinks. I had a couple of interesting talks with my father that night too, but since I REALLY need to start writing as it's already past midnight, I'll leave that for tomorrow as well.
Toodles!
MistWeaver
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