This week I did something brave: I attended two live shows. Other people in my life had offered me tickets to said live shows. I want to make it clear I did not seek out these live shows on my own. Live shows are something I’ve largely forgotten existed in the past few glorious years.
The first show was at a comedy theater. My sister bought the tickets. We would see a famous actor sing songs in character. The most significant fact about that show was that it started at 9:30 PM, a time that at many points in my life, I would have called “early.” I would now call it “basically the middle of the night.”
The second show was at a venue. I say venue because it’s a place that hosts a variety of acts, mostly music and comedy. I was my friend’s plus one because his boyfriend was singing in the show. That show started at 8 PM, a time I would call “a reasonable hour,” which is a phrase mostly reserved for dads.
Before each show, I got dinner with my fellow attendees at a restaurant that was “close” to the venue AKA within ten minutes driving distance. At the first restaurant, before the first show, when we were leaving my sister confidently swung open a door she thought led to the exit only to find herself in a closet, at which point the bartender helpfully interjected, “That is a closet.” At the second restaurant, there was no confusion about entrances or exits.
At both theaters, the management diligently checked vaccination cards, which I appreciated. It’s akin to finally being twenty-one and someone asking to see your license—I’m not carrying it around for nothing!
The shows themselves were what I would call largely gentle and musical, with some comedy sprinkled in for good measure. Because I’m mentally unwell, seeing live performances mostly puts me in my own head about how much I miss doing live performances. There is something really special about being in one room and having an experience together, as performer and audience, and ew yes I really just typed that sentence! It’s interesting to see what makes a good show—a combination of energy and personality and chemistry. It’s equally interesting to see what makes a bad show—that same combination but in the wrong amounts.
When people are famous (even just a little bit) the audience is already on their side, because they came there to see them. That’s when you get people applauding before anyone has even done anything, which is nice but must be frustrating. My husband and I have been watching a lot of old Seinfeld episodes lately and even in relatively early seasons Kramer gets a standing ovation the moment he bursts through Jerry’s door, which is annoying, and we all know where that lead for ole Michael Richards.
Writing like this is fun but it’s a little different than me saying these things when we’re all in the same room together. You don’t get to shape what I’m doing in real-time, I don’t get to respond to your shaping in real-time. But on the bright side, you can read it at your leisure, which I hope is at a reasonable hour, and not sometime in the middle of the night, because trust me—you’ll still be feeling that exhaustion come Friday.
So damn relatable.