The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Saturday night and I've planned something a little different for staff and the boy. I've gotten tickets to the midnight playing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show (the play, not the movie) at the Pumphouse Theatre.
So I've picked up the boy and we're at the Pumphouse, I've introduced him to my colleagues, he's met the Nephew last year at the Rocky Horror (the Movie), but G, the salad chef, new hostess, these are all new to him.
G's concerned that "it better not be some sort of gay show", he's getting that vibe from the costumed patrons, but there are enough females present to keep his attention. And the Nephew is telling the boy about how last weekend G and him were on their way to a party after the bar when they walked into the wrong house, they call out for someone, it hasn't dawned on them and this older woman comes out, she tells them they've got the right house, if they'll just stay put she'll change and they can party with her....
And G has somehow taken over the story and is explaining it, translating from the nephew's heavy accent what happened and verifying what happened, the only difference in his telling is that the nephew wanted to stay and party with the woman....
They excuse themselves and leave, finding the real party....
The boy is laughing, these are stories that lose an awful lot during my retelling to get them directly from the source, independent corroboration, it's hilarious, and he's gotten out his iPod to film G telling the story...
***The first half of the play passes, it's exactly what you'd expect from the Pumphouse, a "glee" styled production with modest audience participation, the Nephew and G are not so into it, the Nephew checking his texts, G staring with his jaw-down and a slack, glazed expression on his face.
*** In the intermission G and the Nephew inquire if it would be rude to leave, I assure them that yes, yes it would, they consent to stay if I agree to buy them a couple of beer.
I give in.
Meanwhile the salad and hostess are having the time of their life, this is their cup of tea. Happy now with beer in hand, the boy with his iPod on record, I bait the Nephew "Tell the boy about the transsexual prostitutes...."
He's too happy to oblige. And once again the boy is in paroxysms of laughter, unable to hold the camera straight..."transsexuals, they are the best and the cheapest...", boy bent double, iPod in general direction of nephew, "...and my friends say 'hey, look, she has balls'" and I look...."
Around this point I realize I've just discovered the next Karl Pilkington, that I need to follow him around with a video camera and record his witticisms and observations and my fortune will be made, I ban the boy from posting these things onto the internet, for personal amusement and proof to his friends what an insane world it is, fine, ....
The Rocky Horror, it was what it was, OK, intermittent sound and occasionally monotone lyrics. Exactly what I would have expected. The company, on the other hand, was admirable and just the proof I needed...
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- Category: Theatre
Grand empty gestures
The Nephew is depressed, he's moving out from his girlfriend. He's "moved out" before, or made pretenses of moving out, always changing his mind at the last minute. But this time it's set, he's moving out, and every day he's looking at places in the neighborhood.
He only wants to spend about $300.00 a month for a room, "I'm never home" is his rationale, he's right, but $300.00 a month doesn't buy you much, as he's finding out.
He's got some amusing descriptions of the crack houses he's looked at so far, a little skit he does where the landlord shows him around some depressing hole of a house, then when it comes time to show him his room makes a pretense of opening the door an inch and then closing it...
"I want to see inside" he protests, and the landlord again opens the door another inch, then closes it. He says that he wants to step inside, look around it, the landlord drops the price, originally it was listed at $425 a month, but he can have it for $350, heck, $300 a month, they like him, if only he won't go inside....
In the end he gets inside the room, a urine and sweat soaked mattress on the floor, the landlord stands there sheepishly, looking at the floor - he's black, the landlord, and the nephew uses this prove how bad the room is: "You know what it takes to embarrass a black guy? They don't embarrass that easy...."
Meanwhile he's staying with his girlfriend. They've just had make-up sex, he throws $20 on the bed and tells her he's done and she should get out, It's a grand and empty gesture, this doesn't go down so well, it is, after all, her place, and while she lies on the bed he walks into the living room to scratch his balls and ask her new roommate if she "want's some?"....
He needs a new place.
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- Category: People
The Inscrutable Dr. X
He's a regular, of sorts, by which I mean we know his name. Sometimes he's in 2 or three times a week, other times it might be a month or two before we see him.
This week he's been quite regular.
Now, unlike most of our more regular customers he's quite good. Quiet, no special requests, he spends money and tips well. I like him.
This week something's up.
The first time we see him he's with the new philanthropist, a regular customer who's just received some media attention over a sizable donation he's made to a local trade college. They drink Amarone, and chat like old friends, Dr. X pays the bill.
The second time he's with the President of a local University, drink Ripassa, again it's Dr. X paying the bill.
Now it seems coincidental, but I have a suspicion that Dr. X is soliciting the philanthropist on behalf of the President, and I have to admire how he pairs the wine with his guest, feting each according to their expectations.
It's odd, too, how he knows so many of our other customers, it's not uncommon for them to come in and sit on other sides of the dining room and not exchange a hello, but today he's got business with them. A lot of our customers are the same way.
He comes in again - this third guest of his I don't know, appears to be a tradesman of sorts, and with him they each drink juice and skip the appetizers.
Something is up, I don't know what it is, could make a guess but he is, after all, the inscrutable doctor.
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- Category: People
AWOL
Predictably the talking waiter didn't show up for lunch today. Or evening.
And we're all speculating what's become of him - the whole situation - to say the least - is odd....
His wife, she didn't call today and she knew he was supposed to be at work. Odd. We try and reach her, she doesn't know what's going on, only that he's left the city to try and "change his luck" - Vancouver, she thinks....
We don't believe her.
After work, when I get home there's a message on my telephone telling me that he's in Frankfurt Airport, on his way to Tunisia, emergency, he won't be in to work (and I gathered that..). But oddly there's nothing on my call display to substantiate this.
The plot thickens and the mystery deepens.
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- Category: People
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