Please turn all cell phones and annoying old biddies to “SILENT”

Tonight, I ventured down to our local playhouse to see a production of “A Christmas Carol.”  I paid my $21.50 for my ticket, assuming my money I would guarantee me a seat and a souvenir program…but…shock and surprise!  I was treated to an upgrade tonight!

Ya ta!

Yes!  My ticket not only landed me smack dab in the front row, but directly next to 2 drunk cronies who decided to re-enact the Verizon commercial during the show:

Instead of hearing Tiny Tim’s dulcet tones implore the Powers-That-Be to “bless us all,” I heard snippets of loud, obnoxious conversation from the female versions of Statler and Waldorf.

Really...they looked JUST like this.

“Where did the girls sit?”  “Isn’t this show just adorable?”  “Where do the girls want to go after?”  “The roads are a mess outside!”  “We’ll see if the girls want anything at intermission.”  “I just love this fur coat.”

#1:  I have NO idea who “the girls” are.  Both of these cronies were well beyond 60, and I’m sure “the girls” were other friends of theirs sitting elsewhere in the theatre.  I’d be willing to bet my first born that “the girls” are incredibly intelligent, sane women who knew to order tickets separately from their friends.

#2:  The “fur coat” Mrs. Waldorf referred to had a huge, honking mustard stain on it.  She looked real classy standing by the orchestra pit….like Pepe LePeu had been a little too liberal with the Grey Poupon that night.

Pardon me, do you have any Highly-Stylized Mustard?

#3:  Judging by the volume these two women exhibited, they may have actually been actors in the show…I’m still unsure.  They obviously thought their dialogue had a rightful place in the middle of the Cratchit household.  Well, that…or they were amazingly drunk.

Now, I’m a very tolerant person.  It takes a lot to get me mad (and you wouldn’t like to see me mad)…

I WOULD like to see Edward Norton, mad or not.

But, these old biddies were pushing it.  They kept up their public pow-wow for a good twenty minutes, and I was almost going to let it slide…until they began talking at their loudest volume during Young Scrooge’s solo.

There’s a place called home I can almost see,
With a red front door, and a Christmas tree.

Except, it didn’t sound like that.  It sounded like this:

There’s a BLAH called YADA YADA YADA I can almost OHMIGOD!,
With a red front BLABBER, and a Christmas CHATTER.

Okay.  That’s it.  I had had enough (so much so that I had to use “had” twice in that last sentence).  I’m not the kind to make a scene, but I did not pay twenty bucks to hear a complete stranger engage in mindless prattle.  I promptly turned to the women, got their attention, and said “I’m sorry, could you please be quiet?” (See, I even said “please” in the spirit of my RACs).

What I received as a response was a disgusted sneer and a rebuttal of “OH, OKAY!” laced with the most biting sarcasm you can imagine.  I recoiled back into my seat, so peeved at their sheer audacity (I also was a bit worried for my safety…I believe those cronies were packing).

But, apparently, once I had successfully pissed of Missuses Statler & Waldorf, their drunken stupor took over and obliterated their memories.  For, at the onset of intermission, Mrs. Waldorf walked by me and said:

“Excuse me, doll!”

I’m sorry, what?!? Now I KNOW she and her companion were undeniably drunk.  To add icing to this creamy marble cake, both women leaned over to me and my friend to comment on how much they liked the show and how much they enjoyed my friend’s boots.  My companion even ended up shooting a picture for them after they asked so politely.

And I tried, my dear readers….I tried to think of ways to incorporate these women into my RAC for the day, but alas…I could come up with nothing.  They left before I could even utter a “Merry Christmas” or “Happy holidays.” But, maybe…just maybe…I made someone else’s night by silencing Missuses Statler and Waldorf in the front row.

Upon my return home through the crisp 24 degree night, I attained completion of my RAC for the day with a Facebook message to an actor I had a chance to sing with this past weekend.  I had to understudy and fill in for another actor who took ill, and subsequently, had to perform a duet with another cast mate.

I had sung with this person on a few occasions before.  He is a wonderful actor/singer, and it is always a fulfilling experience to share the stage with him.  Of course, Shy-Me sometimes has trouble voicing these feelings to someone in person, so I wanted to let him know in some way what it meant to share the stage with him again.

My intended sentiments found their home in the body of a Facebook message, sent just before midnight tonight (just made the deadline, woo hoo!).  It was nothing more than a note of appreciation, but something that I would not have normally done.  I have no results as of yet, my dear readers, but I feel good about the gesture, and it only makes me realize that I need to be more proactive in sending these notes of thanks…especially during the holiday season.

In the meantime, I will continue to vanquish those who rudely speak out of turn…I will maintain my lonely quest to rid the world of those who would speak inordinately loud in a quiet theatre…I will run from those old biddies who try to stop me, not because I have done anything wrong, but because I am the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So Mrs. Statler and Mrs. Waldorf will hunt me because I can take it. Because I’m not your hero. I’m a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.

JUSTICE!

RAC #41: Sent a random note of appreciation to a fellow cast mate

Result: Unknown so far

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