an extra ticket

Today a friend called me up with an extra ticket.
To the ballet.

I said yes, even though I’m not really into that kind of thing.
Because I like hanging out with the friend who asked me.
Because I like doing new things.
And well, I didn’t have anything besides laundry planned for the afternoon.

Another friend, called and asked me what I was doing that day.
I warned her that it was a little bit random for me,
But that I would be attending the ballet at Bass Hall.
And she responded with, “You are going to run your butt off!”
She misheard and thought I said that I was going to be a valet, not go to the ballet.
I quickly corrected her and she responded;
“Wow that is really random!”
Apparently because I have about as much culture as a bag of chilli cheese fritos.
And my friends are more comfortable with the idea of me working as a valet at Bass Hall than actually attending the ballet.

So I got dressed up ( meaning I shaved my legs, wore black and used an iron).
I was relieved to learn that the ballet we would be watching was Romeo and Juliet, because I actually know that story.
And settled in as the lights went down.

Let me preface this with, I did take dance when I was little.
And somewhere out there is a Polaroid of me in a blank leotard and pink tights to prove it. But I have the grace of an emu and didn’t last very long in the world of pink tutus and pirouettes. And I have been to a few ballets before. I distinctly remember going on a field trip to the Nutcracker in elementary school. I also really liked the movie Save the Last Dance.

But somehow in all my previous experience, I forgot that ballets do not have words.
And it took me a few minutes in to realize that this version of Shakespeare would have no “romeo romeo wherefore art thou romeo”s, or “it is the East and Juliet is the Sun” or even a single “parting is such sweet sorrow”.
Panic sunk in for a second wondering how I would be able to pay attention for three hours or how I would be able to understand what was happening or what part of the story they were on.
I mean it has been a long time since my 10th grade English class and there is only so much men jumping around in tights I can handle ( and I so could write an entire blog post on those tights but even though I have the culture of a bag of fritos I won’t go there!)

But they jumped around in there tights.
And twirled gracefully.
And spun on there toes.
And the story unfurled with ease.

And I’ll be honest.
Ballet still isn’t really my thing.
Although I did like getting dressed up and I always love Bass hall.
And am glad that my friend thought to call me.
The staging and scenery were amazing.
And even though the didn’t say a word.
Not even the Shakespeare kind that are hard to understand anyways.
The story came across loud and clear.

Which means that maybe words,
especially the important ones
aren’t always as important as we think they are.
If we can act them out convincingly.
With grace.

And maybe some pink tights and a bag of fritos.


Margie said...

I like the way you closed this post, especially as I totally Get the not-into-ballet thing.

But, still. It's FUN going to Bass Hall, isn't it?

Alyssa said...

The "valet" vs. "ballet" misunderstanding was hysterical! I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.