December 12, 2007
My friend Ronnie, who wrote the play The Street featured in a theatre festival in the city last summer, called yesterday and invited me to join her at a cabaret performance. It seems one of "her" actors was performing in a theater below the restaurant "West Bank."
I was busy unpacking and the opportunity disarmed me a bit. After all, this is pretty much what I came here for -- unpacking you can do anywhere! There is a very convenient bus from Hoboken to Manhattan, and it stops less than a blog away from the West Bank. I had to dress up but asked Ronnie if it would be okay if I came in the only shoes I seem to be able to wear on my nail-less toe, my old soft Keds. She graciously said that it doesn't matter what you wear in New York any more. I dressed and put on makeup and hoped nobody would notice the footwear.
The train ride was a breeze. I was early and wandered around the restaurant looking for Ronnie, thinking maybe she'd changed since I saw her in June. I noted that people did wear lots of different styles, but all black. I was in a subdued magenta, but luckily I was seated early so nobody saw the shoes.
Ronnie was late. The actor, the talented Jonathan Whitton was already into his second number. I was enjoying his poise and beautiful singing style. He likes drama, and he does frankly gay material. I got a big kick out of his version of "A Little Brains, A Little Talent" from Damn Yankees, especially when it came to the line about "George Washington slept here, but it never says who was beside him!" What an image!
After the show Ronnie and I visited a bit and I discovered I was going to have to pay my way for this. I thought, with her knowing the actor, she had an "in" and the house would waive the cover charge and the drink charge. Wrong. It's clear I'm going to have to increase my entertainment budget if things keep going like this.
But I wouldn't have missed the show for the world. I watched the smooth young man, and thought, "I could do that! This is a nice room...let's see, I could do "Ladies Who Lunch" from Company, and began planning my act figuring how to fill the house, pay the costs, etc., when I remembered something vital. I can't sing.
But this is why I moved here, after all. I can dream big.