The monday after…
…the week before.
We’ve had a really fun but tiring few days. We’ve had a variety of visitors everynight since last Wednesday, and been out (cheaply) most nights.
The best was Friday night. It was the opening of the 25th Jubilee season at the civic theatre and we (Zoe, her friend Fran from Berlin, and I) got free tickets to see Carmina Burana, the show that Zoe’s been organising the programme for.
Well, we turn up and are looking around for a park. So being the crazy urban-off-roader that I am, I decide to park on the grass. This isn’t an original idea and the only place to get up there is over a drain. So up we go. We get half way up when there is a massive ‘BANG’ and the car jolts.
We all look at each other and go ‘f*&k’, hoping the car isn’t damaged.
As we’re walking to the theatre across the parking lot there is a guy (looked like an usher) inspecting the drain where we drove in and shaking his head. We laughed and legged it.
Anyway, we get into our seats and within 10 seconds i get busted for taking photos. This kinda pissed me off because the house lights were still on and I wasn’t using a flash. The woman told me that “it’s written in a policy downstairs”, leaving herself open for a variety of smart ass comments. But, I let it slide.
So the curtain rises and the orchestra starts. While the major performance was amazing, with over 140 people on stage, the first one was more interesting. It was a rendition of the North Queensland Rhapsody (I known, crazy), by the best orchestra in the North. Apparently the North isn’t very big, because these guys sucked.
In particular, there was a french horn that was totally out of tune. So much so that I, the orchestral buff, was scared of the brass sections (If i knew he was out, he must have been out badly).
I thought this was annoying me, until a ‘disabled’ guy in a wheelchair up the front started moaning in every silence, like Timmy from South Park.
Then came the personal ethical conundrum between
“disabled people should be allowed to blah blah…” and “TIMMY!!!’ every time the band stopped.
Later we went to a party in a unit upstairs in our block. They were all pretty drunk, but there were some others who had been at the theatre. We’re all like “How was that guy in the front” etc… etc…
Then I say, off hand, thinking no one will hear “and that French horn…”. A girl there goes “Yes! He was so out of tune, that was totally annoying me, can’t he get in tune…. etc.. etc…
I felt so vindicated.