Partying With the Blue-Haired Set

Last night, The Teenager and I went to see a play performed at our local community theater. The play was Wait Until Dark, a suspenseful tale of a blind woman attacked in her home by a very bad man, searching for a heroin-filled doll.

Also attending the play were two of my co-workers, who were supervising a group of teens from one of our programs, and, the irony that we were enjoying a play about drug-related crimes while in the company of minors who were participating in substance abuse programs (in some cases) was not lost on The Teenager.

The Teenager also pointed out, and, rightly so; that she and the other teens represented a serious minority when it came to the viewing audience, as the theater was filled to capacity with senior citizens, which, will be an important fact to remember as I continue my story.

Wait Until Dark takes place in New York city in the 60's, which somewhat explains why the lead antagonist whipped out a cigarette five minutes into the first act. Both The Teenager and I find cigarette smoke quite repulsive, and, one of my co-workers has terrible migraines, triggered by smoke, so; as smoke filled up the theater, we each experienced some relative discomfort. The Teenager and I, sitting in the second row, front and center, got the worst of it while my co-worker, who was up in the middle row of the right side of the theater was able to avoid direct contact.

The Teenager and I buried our noses in our scarves and, thankfully, the act ended and no one else lit up, but, seriously; there should have been some warning label somewhere, I mean, right?

There probably also should have been a warning label about the shoe that one of the actors threw during a particularly tense scene during the final act, because, when that shoe bounced into the audience and nailed one old guy in the head before bouncing into an old ladies lap behind him; we might have liked to be better prepared to stifle our laughter so as not to ruin the tension of the scene.

For the record? We were not able to stifle that laughter and I feared The Teenager might hyper-ventilate while trying to do so. Plus, it's just bad form to nail your elders in the head with a loafer.

Feel free to save that bit of information for future reference.