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All the World's a Stage

There was the pre-show:

“It’s adopt a pet month at the SPCA,” spat the haggard troll outside the Palace theater.

We were in line to see the matinee of Aida, and as much as I love the critters, I don’t think this was the audience our aging activist was looking for. I told our Canadian guests (Larry’s way-too-cute cousins) to act like typical New Yorkers: ignore the crazy lady.

“How can you people spend $100 on a ticket for the theater and not adopt a kitten?” she shouted. “You’re all just mean, stupid humans.”

We made it into the lobby, and so did she, shouting something about calling ABC news and blah blah blah. I hate it when the activists forget their medication. I'm all for adopting the strays (and I seem to attract them quite nicely), but crazy lady really should think about her audience -- is a tourist show the right target for saving local animals?

There was the show:

It was wonderful. I’d never seen it, despite listening to (and choreographing) the OCR repeatedy. Miss Cox nailed the singing (although I think she lacked a little depth on the acting side). “Did you know she’s Canadian?” Larry asked me and the girls. Um, yeah, we all knew.

For years I’ve said “I Know the Truth” could be one of the saddest songs in the world, and now that I’ve seen it in context … I love it even more.

There was the post show:

Fast forward to the apartment, post Ariba Ariba, we’re taking a break from the rain and discussing the play. I’m playing snippets from the CD, comparing performances from the original recording and who we saw on stage.

I said something about Heather Headley being more intense than Miss Cox, but the girls liked Deborah’s versions of the songs better.

Larry chimed in, “But oh, I really did get misty when Deborah Cox was singing that great song and they put the wedding dress on her.”

“That was Amneris. Deborah Cox was the Aida.” The look on his face indicated confusion, so I went to the next level of clarification. “Deborah Cox was the black princess.”

“Oh, let me rethink this.”

Apparently he'd heard that there was this new amazing singer who sounded like a big black woman, but was not. Perhaps Joss Stone? He gets confused. At the end of the day, he loved Miss Cox, but it seems he loved Lisa Brescia as well; so much in fact that maybe he should hear the "Easy as a Life" remix so he can "dance like a Kodak camera."

At least now he knows the truth. And we mock him.