Yes, yes... tonight I worked the River Center for the Celtic Woman show. For the first time, I was not an usher, but that was fine with me. I got to be security. I stood by the doors in Lower Portal L and made sure no one came in who wasn't involved with the show. No interaction with a single patron. After my last experience with that snooty-patooty dance competition I tried to work last time, a patron-free evening was just splendid.
There are actually 5 Celtic Women... and a choir, and a kilted bagpiper... at the very least. The women made me feel like I was looking at some version of a Tinkerbell in one of those delirious, vivid dreams I have sometimes. Like something out of Midsummer Night's Dream.
Toward the end, a group of about 30 stage hands filtered into the area where I was standing guard. They were mostly college-aged theater geeks. Most of the girls were overtly lesbian... spiky hair, thick black glasses, big t-shirts and baggy jeans. This one girl had the equivalent of a nose ring only it wasn't a ring; it was like a smooth, brassy dagger poking down out of each nostril. I can kind of understand her motivation there. I feel that way sometimes. It's a silent scream of, "NO, I AM NOT LIKE YOU AND I AM GLAD I MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!" Only I just think it; the people I think it toward probably don't even notice. She took action and probably is not only frequently noticed but seldom forgotten.
I am glad I am not a Celtic Woman or a theater geek/stage hand/roadie/etcetera. I remembered afresh tonight how glad I am to be me. How glad I am to love Carrie. How, though the grass often does look greener on the other side of the fence, the grass in my yard is pretty nice and I like it.
It just needs to be mowed. Literally. *grin*
