Man of LaMancha, Or So I was Told



My View of the "Stage"

 TV Stevie wanted to see a local production of THE MAN OF LA MANCHA today, so I said fine. It was scheduled to be held at the ampitheater at a local park. I was psyched. I packed my sun hat, an umbrella, and a rain coat. We tossed folding chairs into the trunk of TV's car. We were set.

We arrived at the park in plenty of time. Found nearby parking. As we were pulling our chairs from the trunk, a young woman interrupted us. It seemed the iffy weather dictated that the performance be moved to a nearby church.

Well, RATS. I've never been to a performance at the ampitheater and had been really looking forward to it.  The seating is tierred, like a movie theater or a stadium. I've always wanted to go to Shakespeare in the Park (our local version), but it usually conflicts with something else, as it does this year.

So TV Stevie and I drove to the church. He let me out while he looked for parking. He encountered another Drama Mama & Papa as he walked back to the church, so we ended up sitting together.

I loathe and despire churches and temples and hotel conference rooms for performances, because audience seating flat, and I am five feet tall. The inability to see a thing combined with the heat and humidity and the crowded conditions made for less than an optimum experience.  Fortunately, I did have my fan in purse. For what it was worth. Frankly? Not much.