Girl asks Boy to the Dance.

If you knew me in the first grade, you might overhear some racy lyrics escaping from my mouth.  And if you listened closely, you would hear a child's rendition of A Chorus Line.  I watched the movie well over a hundred times by the age of ten.  My sister and I knew every line by heart.  Luckily for me (and you), the adult-themed (self-worth, wet dreams, abandonment, homosexuality, tits and ass, etc., etc.) tunes I sang, went right over my head.  One of my favorite pieces goes a lil something like this:
Dance: ten; Looks: three .  And I'm still on unemployment, dancing for my own enjoyment.  That ain't it kid.  That ain't it kid!  Tits and ass .  Bought myself a fancy pair.  Tightened up the derriere.  Tits and ass!  Had the bingo-bongos done and suddenly, I'm getting national tours!  Tits and ass can change your life.  They sure changed mine...lalala.
Risque or not for a young'en, A Chorus Line sparked my interest in dance.  I was trained in ballet and tap from the young age of two for about 12 years, always with the seventeen Broadway hopefuls from the movie in the back of mind.  Through my college years, my dad would follow the blaring music down the hall and catch me dancing in the mirror.  Solo, yes, and always embarrassing.  A favorite pastime worth re-sparking, I decided to follow a recommendation of the Metro newspaper and get tickets to the next show at the Joyce Theater.  
The show happened to be performed by the Richard Alston Dance Company , a British modern-dance group with a world-renowned choreographer known for his conservative, yet whimsical, style and according to a review by NY Times writer, Alastair Macaulay, "it pours[sic] its action in exuberant floods across the stage often making[sic] me insanely happy."  Who doesn't want to be made "insanely happy"?!  So, I figured, luring Nick to see the show with me would be a breeze.  He loves to be humored by playful acts.  America's Funniest Videos can flip this kid's mood upside down, around and around, to utter bliss ; )
It's about 7:30pm on Saturday night, and our cab pulls up to the theater.  Looking more like "The Max" from Saved by the Bell, than a place to "see the ballet" (according to Nick), we're greeted with its welcoming neon lights and nineteen-eighties font.  Half-expecting to enter and see the kids of Bayside High, we're quickly reminded this is New York and its dance community.  Tall, graceful, and stylish young ladies stand around in the lounge with their mothers sipping on glasses of wine.  You know they are dancers when you follow their long legs down to their feet and notice yes, indeed, they are in the third position and their posture, perfect.  We join in and get a glass of wine to pass the 30 minutes prior to the show's start.  Looking around at the rest of the crowd, I couldn't help but notice, the men aren't checking me out, but are more interested in my terribly handsome date.  Oh, yeah, we're in Chelsea! ; )
The first act, "Shuffle it Right ", begins with about five couples blithely dancing to the music of a Hoagy Carmichael.  He's new to me too.  Carmichael will set you right back to a jazzy 1940s in...let's say, New Orleans, on a big old country porch.  The girls, dressed in old-school versions of flowery DVF-style wrap-dresses, and the boys in khakis and white, are all over the stage with big bright-white smiles, having a gay ol' time.  This act did make us happy!  Nick was enjoying the sounds of the barefeet on the wood floor whenever they would land from their "hops" (something Alston's known for) and I was amused trying to keep my eye on one dancer in efforts to pick up a few new moves (my mom's hopes for me for the evening).  You have permission to laugh if I actually do pull these out on the dance floor.  ; )
Each act more impressive than the prior, the second was accompanied by the amazing pianist Jason Ridgway playing Igor Stavinsky's compositions from the ballet, Petrushka.  The gentlemen behind us came specifically to hear this piano performance.  Understandable!  Beautiful and evocative.  Ridgway's fingers danced across the whites of the shiny black grand gracing center stage as the dancers filled the room with drama and emotion.  The last act was my fave.  This could be attributed to the Philip Glass beats, as I have quite the soft spot for his compositions, and the seemingly sudden display of extreme technical dance talent.  I don't have the proper lingo for a proper critique, but this last act was truly impressive and fully captivated me...I didn't want to blink!      
What better way to end this graceful evening than to head uptown to Blondie's for our friend's birthday and chow down on some deep-fried hot wings and watch football.  Only in New York can these two events be juxtaposed with such ease. 


Thank you Nick for experiencing Joyce with me!  You had me covering up giggles throughout the entire show, but especially when you pirouetted up the stairs of the theater and then again into Blondies. ; ) 


Thanks New York ; )


Want to have a similar experience?  Tickets range from $10 to $59.  Visit their site or call, 212.242.0800, for details.  Our $45 tickets placed us in the fifth row where we could hear the dancers breathing and see the sweat on their brows!  Quite intimate.    

Mother takes me to Broadway.

So my plan is to do at least two NYC cultural events a month.  I will fall in love with this place because I will be reminded of all it has to offer.  Whether I like it, or not.  That's the plan and I'm stickin' to it ; )

My first event was decided for me.  An easy start to the master plan.  My mom summoned mom-of-childhood-past and got Broadway tickets for her and I and her bff, Diana.  I haven't been to see a Broadway play with her in a decade maybe?!  Wow.  Broadway is what cultured Long Islanders do, so this was a favorite past time of the fam ; )  Christmas isn't Christmas without a trip to Rockefeller and a Broadway play.  Ohhh, the memories.  Which reminds me of my favorite Broadway memory.  I was in 6th grade, my brother, Cooper, about 3 years old and we were finally going to see Cats at the Winter Garden Theater.  The soundtrack resounded in our house for years.  Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were household names for us.  If you know, then you know.  Anyway...Grizabella (is that right?) is in the midst of singing Andrew Lloyd Webber's big hit, "Memory"..."touch me, it's so easy to leave me, all alone with my (and Cooper belts out on the top of his lungs simultaneously...ahhhhhhh!!!!) meeeeeeeemmmmmmmmoooooorrrrry".  Created for quite the dramatic effect.  That may have been Coop's last sugar high...ever.

Back to this Broadway show.  We had the pleasure of seeing Stephen Sondheim's "A Little Night Music"  with legendary Angela Lansbury (last I saw Ms. Lansbury's work was as Mrs. Potts, the teapot of course, in "Beauty and the Beast"...adorable) and the stunning Catherine Zeta-Jones (my mom's girl-crush) at the Walter Kerr Theater (Note: if you are large, you will not fit in these seats.  definitely not.).  I'll leave the critiquing to the pros, and just say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  Mrs. CZJ's voice is just breathtaking.  Even her speaking voice.  So beautifully breathy.  We laughed.  We cried.  And that's what Sondheim wanted, so bravo!  Oh, and we were also reminded, via an extremely catchy tune, that "Men are stupid, men are vain, love's disgusting, love's insane." ; )  But, I don't mean to scare the men away from checking this out...love is what makes the world go 'round and that is the real message here.  Mrs. CZJ is perfectly sensual and equally witty.  Ms. Lansbury's character is brutally honest in an hysterically funny way, all the way through, literally, to her...*spoiler alert*...death.   And the two male leads are equally crushable, as my teenage-girl mother eagerly pointed out ; )

I'd be remiss not to mention that during intermission, a woman sitting directly behind us, tapped my mom on the shoulder to say hello!  They know each other from my mom's shop in Northport.  What a small world!!!  New York, you're not so big and scary ; )

Love, km.

Looking for something to do close-by before hitting up the theatre?
Go for a drink at "Blue Fin" in the W Hotel located on Broadway between 46th & 47th.  Make your way up to the front of the restaurant and find a seat at the mega-large windows in the bar area.  You will feel like you're in a fish bowl, but hey, so will all of the tourists of Times Square as you begin an amusing session of people-watching over a martini and perhaps a sushi roll (or french fries and wine).  People-watching is never a bore.

Dearest New York.

Dearest New York,

You "Concrete Jungle, you're what dreams are made of."  Why is it, then, I feel you failed me?  Your lights inspire?  No.  Not me.  I think it's just that...maybe...we grew...apart?  I'm too old for your parties.  I became your biggest party-pooper.  Honestly, though, maybe you just tired me out!  Your cold, gray winters hurt my feet and chill me to the bone.  Your train traffic delays have frustrated, caused me tardiness and embarrassed me.  Panic attacks in your subways...I can have no more.  Your pretty girls and high fashion make me feel insecure and inadequate.  All dressed in black.  It's a sea of people...I'm no better than the rest of your lovers.  I blend in too much.  You don't make me feel special.  Maybe a little pond would be a better fit?  I could be its big fish.  I've started dreaming of green yards, maybe even a little white picket?  More space?  Big trees?  Fresh air?  2 little ones and a puppy?
...
I know one thing for sure; I forgot what you were made of.  You do cook the most appetizing meals.  You can satisfy my every whim.  You make me smile.  And even laugh.  Your Central Park hills make me sweat.  Sometimes you make me cry.  Your mystique abounds.  I'm intrigued.  You challenge me.  You teach me.  I love you.  I hate you.  Love.  Hate.  Love.  Hate!
...
Everyone deserves a second chance.  New York, here's yours.

Love, km.