Day 265

Only in NYC

I decided to go see a Broadway show earlier this week. I was having a hard time at the office balancing the books and budgets—the numbers just didn’t want to cooperate. I was wearing jeans and a graphic t-shirt. The neckline and sleeves were a little tattered but I decided to go anyway.

When I was sitting in my TKS assigned seat in the Mezzanine, two older women were sitting to my left.

Lady #1: In my day, people just wouldn’t go the theater dressed like that.
Lady# 2: At least he could have put on a dress shirt.
Lady #1: Or a clean T-shirt, one that isn’t frayed at the collar and sleeves.

Realizing that they were talking about me, I decided that I was simply going to ignore them and watch the show. Unfortunately, they kept up their babble for another 3 or 4 minutes. By this time, I was going to throw civility out the door and be a Representative Wilson. I leaned over to the ladies and said in my nicest voice:

“I’m an understudy for the show and I have to watch the show from the seats. I just finished rehearsal. I’m so sorry that I didn’t have time to change.”

They kindly smiled and apologized for their affront and we watched the show. During intermission, we chatted and I made sure to inquire about them enjoying the show. When the show was over, we said our goodbyes and they wished me good luck and asked:

Lady #1: Which part are you the understudy for?
Me: The father
Lady #1: Aren’t you a little heavy to play the father?
Lady #2: (to Lady #1) I’m sure the costumes help, dear.