Due to some nasty circumstances beyond my control, this blogpost is the one that was supposed to go up on Sunday. But the whole point of nasty circumstances is that they're usually out of your control and so you can deal with this being a few days late. I have.
I promised some people I would blog about running my first ever 5k on Thanksgiving (yes, the infamous Turkey Trot) and I also promised some people I would blog with a review of the Broadway show Memphis, starring the man I was once convinced I was going to marry. So to those people, here we go:
The race. I started panicking that morning, particularly as I got the starting line. They line you up by miles: 4 minute miles, 5 minute miles and so on. I didn't know this. I was quite shocked the farthest back was 9 minute miles. Where were my 12 minute miles? No, forget about 12, where were my 15 minute miles? I started off with two of my cousins. One a runner, one not. I'm in the not group which was very obvious after RunnerCousin decided to place us near the 7 minute mile mark. Um, what? RunnerCousin also moved on ahead about 100 feet after we started. Good riddance. I mean, uh, good for her. The rest of the race (3.1 miles for you non-runners), I ran side by side with NonRunnerCousin, which was extremely entertaining but also ego boosting as it was me cajoling her along after mile two. I have to thank her for that. Anyway, we ran and ran and ran and walked and then ran some more. We missed the water station. Don't ask me how. One minute we were thirsty and the next minute we were thirstier as we spotted all the dropped paper cups and mostly full water bottles along the street. I would also like to give a digital shout out to the those awful people who were baking chocolate chip cookies along the race route. The was just plain cruel.
Anyway, both NonRunnerCousin and I finished. Ha! You thought I was going to tell you our time, didn't you? No way. Maybe next year. But probably not.
Onto the second part of this blog.
I love New York City, I do, but I'm in there quite often and have made a new favorite hangout spot of Tribeca. Midtown is just too crowded, too noisy, too god-awful touristy for me now. And on the day after Thanksgiving? Not such a great place to be, at all. I made it to the theater without being suffocated, stampeded over, and shoved in front of a passing cab. That in itself was a feat.
But I promised myself I was only going to review the show and not bore you with mundane details from the inner working of my brain. Because God knows that's a dangerous place to be.
The show was good. The show was lively. The show was...interesting. Look at all those adjectives I just used! But I use them hesitantly because I'm not quite sure how I feel yet. I am not such a fan of that kind of music. I was also definitely not a fan of them using the 'n-word', not once but twice during the show. I know it fit the times but it's not a classy thing to do, even in a historical perspective, and so my respect for the playwrights decreased a little there.
But as you know, I went to see Adam Pascal perform. And boy did he perform. He plays a stupid, southern boy character, a role I thought was hilarious to see him playing. Also, it's the first time I've seen him act in a role where I was able to look past him and see the actual character. I am/was (what I'd say before about that slashy mark?) a hardcore fan but there are times when I admit he's not the greatest actor/singer at what he's trying to accomplish. I am please however, to say this was not one of those times. It is truly the best role of his career so far. And yeah, I did get quite the thrill at seeing him on stage and it set my little fangirl heart a flutter. That stupid grin drifted back on my face even after all these years.
I'm going to end it there because this turned out to be way too long. Kudos to those who read to the end and please know I mean it when I say, thank you!
~M. T. Rossi