(Originally appeared on danieljhogan.com)
The people watching at a ballet in a mid-west college town is quite the feast for the eyes.
My collection of video game T-shirts says all one needs to know about my fashion skills (to the point where I had to seek the help of a Fixer).
Heck, that night I ended up wearing navy blue socks with my black shoes and forgot a belt (mostly by mistake). The variety of ‘appropriate’ dress at Swan Lake was nothing short of entertaining. Some women wore elegant evening dresses, while others wore skirts shorter than their winter coats (to the point Stephanie thought one young lady was wearing only a coat). Another young lady sported a tutu of her own, likely in hopes of being called on stage to fill in if Odette pulled a Keith Moon.
A favorite was a stoic gentleman in a T-shirt and suspenders, who’s belly cascaded over his jeans as if tried to make a break for the exit. I needed these bits of observational mirth after the tense drive through the snow, which left me as mentally stable as Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys.
It took nearly an hour to get from downtown to the show. Such a trip should, on a good day, take no more than twenty minutes or so (ten if I am listening to the Drive soundtrack. Three and a half if my radio gets stuck on conservative talk radio). It was my first Screw This I am Moving to a State Without Snow drive of Winter. It happens every year.
Additional mirth came when we overheard one in our group critiquing the range of footwear worn by the intrepid staff of the venue, “Do they even have a dress code? One is wearing dress shoes, and another is wearing Chucks. This isn’t Point Break Live—we’re here to see the Moscow [Expletive] Ballet.” Indeed.
Speaking of, if you ever get a chance to see Point Break Live!, do so. It is Swan Lake for our Modern Times. With beer, fake blood and Gary Busey impressions.
And the people watching at Point Break Live! when I saw it in San Francisco? EVEN better.
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