If you think Western New York is a bit cold lately, then you should try getting to Chicago! I admit it...the weather has won. I am completely beaten down--only content to be cocooned in comforters. When Brad presented me tickets to Chicago for my birthday in January, the abstract idea of a night out on the town, attending the theater (pronounced in an uptight, snotty way) sounded delightful. Prying me off the couch into a sub-zero night was another thing altogether. The promise of a fish fry at The Flip Side lured me to the door but I froze at the sight of my slippery sidewalk, stretching out before me like an Olympic luge course. This was no red carpet occasion. "Let's just rent the movie," I whined as my husband stuffed me, unceremoniously, into our van.
Worried that he wouldn't be able to withstand my whimpering, Brad ordered me a spiked hot chocolate but neglected to anticipate the inevitable giggling and inappropriate debauchery that accompanies any imbibement. Without warning, I launched into a colorful description of a new television show named something like "Born Wild" or "Born in the Wild" where lunatics voluntarily give birth right out in the bush. I immediately turned even redder than I already was, clapped my hand over my mouth, and lapsed into loud laughter. My daughters stared at me horrified while Brad glanced around, gauging our chances of being asked to exit the premises. Realizing that my 19 and 21 year old daughters couldn't even begin to understand the meaning of my bawdy little pun, I began to explain it to them when Brad rudely interrupted me by shouting for the check.
Sadly, the alcohol had mostly worn off by the time we arrived in Buffalo so I was coherently aware that Brad decided to forego the convenient $25 parking spot located steps from the theater's entrance to park more than a block away for $5. The frosty air filled my gasping lungs as I broke into a lumbering jog. Tears froze to my face as I fought against the frigid temperatures to finally make it to my destination: Chicago. The show was wonderful. "Isn't that J Peterman," I said, squinting, to Sydney while Brad was busy scamming sugar-coated pecans from strangers. Maybe it was the lingering effects of my hot cocoa. Maybe I was still light-headed from my run. Maybe I had frostbite of the brain. Maybe it was my out-of-body Seinfeld experience. Whatever it was...I wanted that musical to last forever. As the curtain call signaled the end of magical evening, I could barely hold back the tears as I was swept up into the crowded current. Lacking anything as sophisticated as an Urban Sombrero, I encased my head in my faux-fur hood and attempted to out-run the cold. It was time to leave Chicago and go home.
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