Mar 24, 2007 15:16
So, last night I made a fatal error of judgment. My friend, Patrick, and I decided to go see The Pajama Game at Pickerington North High School by ourselves as I am now in possession of a driver's license. Now, here is the thing about Patrick: He will get you lost even if he has directions to a location. Now, here is the thing about me: I get lost on the way home from my school. The combination of the two of us is surely disastrous. I knew this. I did. But, somewhere in my distorted teenage mind, the voice of freedom cried out louder than my reasoning and I picked up Patrick to go to our play.
Patrick, if you are reading this, I would like to let you know that if you did not bring your iPod containing the RENT soundtrack and your speaker, I would have literally had a nervous breakdown. I thank you for your foresight. Nonetheless, we ought to have followed the signs ("I see signs!") to Wheeling instead of Columbus; you are the reason we got lost in the first place and had to turn around a total of seven times. So, I win.
I love you, Patrick. :)
But, not in that way. Right. *Awkward silence ensues.*
Anyway. So, after nearly getting killed by a seemingly drunk driver, getting lost in the ghetto, laughing our heads off about my ability to convert billboards into freeway signs and about my clairvoyant or mystical statements ("Turn towards the light!"), being thoroughly disturbed by my friend's singing, and running up Patrick's parent's phone bill, we made it to the show just as it began. It was well worth the trip.
Really, I would not be surprised if the show had been located in The Palace Theater. The lighting, set, acting, singing, dancing, and orchestra were amazingly good for a high school production. I would happily go to see The Pajama Game tonight... as long as I go with someone who knows how to get there.
Not surprisingly, we got lost on the way home. Really, if we are unable to follow directions the right way, how can we be expected to read them backwards? After suffering from Patrick's interpretation of Ula from The Producers, I got us back into Gahanna and we picked up my mom's friend, Sally, from my apartment to go to Shake 'n' Steak. We discussed movies, Broadway shows and actors, and my and Patrick's eighth grade year over fries and shakes.
Needless to say, it was pretty late when we went our separate ways.
And, well, then I went to bed! The moral of the story, dear reader, is that freeways are the devil and that you should never, ever rely on a person named Patrick to get you to a remote high school.
travel,
craziness,
patrick,
theatre,
freaking out,
acting