I first saw Cats in high school. My friend's mom had bought us tickets to go with her and a friend...only to later learn it conflicted with a band concert. Oh, irony. Our director, much to his sadness, couldn't release us. So, my friend's mom gave the tickets to someone else, and we were full of woe. Then, somehow, we managed to buy tickets from someone else for another night. I'm not sure how we did this since it was in the days before Craig's List or even the internet. I think we--gasp--got them from the newspaper. Whatever the source, they turned out to be front row--better than her mom's.
We didn't have front row seats last night, largely because I decided to go at the last-minute. We were up on the first mezzanine--where I learned something new about myself. Somewhere in my old age, I've grown uber-sensitive to noises and distractions in the theatre. I imagine they've been going on since I began going to plays at a tender age, but I don't remember them driving me crazy like they do now. The guy coughing behind me. The restless little girl in front of us (who fell asleep in the second act). People checking their cell phones who don't realize how annoying that light is in someone's periphery in a dark theatre.
But most frustrating of all were the women beside me who were singing and humming with every song. I'm not sure if this is something that Andrew Lloyd Webber inspires because I also had it happen at Joseph. Regardless, it was annoying as hell. At first, I thought just one was humming along, yet each time one of them went to the bathroom, the other continued the sing-along. And when I heard one of them whisper to the other, "This is my favorite song!" I thought, Dear God, she's actually going to stand up and start singing. She didn't. To be fair, they were nice enough people between acts, but let's face it. I didn't pay for my seat--even on the mezzanine--to listen to my fellow audience members sing. I want to hear those glittery people in spandex sing on stage. I guess in another 40 years, I'll just have to aspire to be like the elderly woman I overheard while walking out of the theatre when the show ended: "Those girls behind us would not stop talking. So, finally, I just turned around and said, 'Shut up!'" I guess it takes decades of theatre-going to develop that kind of spirit, though. I've got a little while.
All that being said, I was still able to enjoy the show, and we had a great time (aside from a horrible headache later that night). And as lolcatz pointed out, if not for theatre wacky mishaps, what would I have to blog about?