Yes, dears, it's quite true.
It all started when AM, (a former Broadway song and dance girl, turned restaurant manager, turned dance instructor, turned champion vegetable gardener) called me up and said, "Oh my Godddddd!! Bossy Rossi! Do you know how many shows are going dark because of September 11th?"
This was code for two things; A) it's time to support Broadway in its time of need. It is, after all, the heart and soul of New York culture ... Well, aside from off-track betting, of course. B) We might get cheap tickets.
Our first excursion to the great tourist way was the show Contact, which was really very good, and even a little sexy, although I felt as though my body was shoved into a seat that could fit into Barbie's camper.
Helloooo! It's called leg room, and we don't mean for chickens.
We chased our cultural matinee with some really good Chinese fusion and some really bad service at a trendy eatery with a name that rhymed with "achoo." I might have loved the place if if weren't for the fact that I could actually feel myself aging in the time it took to get a drink.
This weekend was part two of our "Saturday Matinee, Save Broadway and Pay Less" grand plan.
We met at the discount ticket kiosk that generally has a line of tourists wrapped around its dividers like a giant multi-colored sausage.
How can anyone wear that much color? I'm not saying I'm opposed to colorful clothing; black, gray, dark green, beige and off-white are fine, but these folks look like they walked through a crayon factory.
Anyway, I was saddened to see only a few folks in line, but when we got to the board, we saw why. There were only two big shows on sale. Les Miserables and The Full Monty. This was good news for Broadway -- meant things were sold out -- bad news for us, since neither option seemed too scintillating.
We opted for Monty, although I'd already seen the movie and just couldn't imagine wanting to see that in singing form. I never quite got over having been one of the only victims to see Carrie, the musical. I won't go into it, but imagine a chorus singing about pig's blood.
We were jazzed up all the same. It was a gorgeous, sunny day that felt more like fall than winter. Broadway had clearly picked up since NOTHING WAS ON SALE!! AAK and we were just two blonde babes weaving in and out of the slow-moving colorful folks like rockets from hell.
Why would anyone come to Manhattan and then slow down? Just boggles the mind.
Anyway, as soon as we sat down, AM being the responsible perky thang that she is, bent down to turn off her cell phone, and within a second the very large, very colorful bitch ... err, umm, woman behind her taps her on the shoulder and says, "Excuusse meeeeee, I can't seeee!?" and the show hadn't even started.
AM did what any former song and dance babe would do. She glared at the bitch, errr, um, woman like razors were shooting from her eyes and said, "I wassss jusssttttt turrrnnnniingggg offfff myyyy cellll phoooone."
Then AM whispered to me rather loudly, "must be from Wisconsin."
Luckily for us, the show was actually fabulous, really, really, really fun with great songs and fun choreography and lots of penises that we couldn't see cause they turned the lights off at just the wrong, err, umm, right moment.
After our matinee, we had drinks at a snazzy place on 50th Street called Martinis that makes martinis that sit in glass cones imbedded in a bowls of ice, which is just what I wanted to do after sitting for 3 hours, but they didn't have any ice bowls large enough.
We toasted the success of yet another venture to the theatre, darling, ate a lot of asparagus, had dinner with Mr. Anne Marie and their pals: J (with the permanent tan) and S (with no body fat, ever..!). Then AM, S and moi dumped the boys and high-tailed it downtown (where the altitude is more to my comfort level), and danced ourselves silly at a lesbian bar with a '70s disco night.
Never mind that fact that we knew all the words to all the songs cause we were there when these songs came out. The adorable waitress with the chains wrapped around her exposed belly I ream of Jeannie style fell in love with us and danced around our table. She'd just purchased a 1970s halter-top from a second-hand store and was displaying it and most of the rest of her for all enjoy.
"Yeaaah!" AM said to the cutie, "I'm probably the one the store bought that from."
Second-hand '70s, meet the first-handers.
Oh what the hell, it was a fun night and the girls were out in a wide array of butch, femme, leather, yuppie, cowgirl, home-girl and lesbian trapped in a gay boy's body.
What better way to cap a day on Broadway than with a lesbian buffet?!
Anne Marie and I are saving Broadway ... one Saturday matinee at a time.
Look for us at the corner of 46th and 7th. We'll be the blur of black, gray and blonde.
