Cats

Tuesday, October 25, 2022

We went to see the musical Cats tonight. It has been a long time since we have seen a live performance of it. We saw the movie – Alexander highly recommended that we see it. He organized a group to go to see it because he heard it was awful. He was not disappointed. No one had told any of those in his group that it doesn’t have a plot; it’s just some cats singing. They hated it. I laughed a lot. He disliked it so much he went a second time with a friend who couldn’t make the first group viewing. Hilarious.

We arrived at our terrific parking ramp that skyways us right into the theater and the first level was full. Second level full. We went all the way to the top, level seven. I pulled out my phone to find out what was happening at the nearby Target Center – Carrie Underwood. I really hoped Carrie Underwood would not sing exactly as long as long as the Cats. We walked to the theater entrance and the security line was loooong (25 people). The line is never long. It is three people. I looked squinty eyed at those people. Were they lost Carrie Underwood people? Two people came up behind us. I said, “You’re wearing a Carrie Underwood shirt, but you’re going to Cats?” Shocked faces! We pointed and they turned and hurried away. The people in front of us left. There was a burst of laughter at the front of the line. Six people had gone through security to find their tickets were not valid here. Security announced that this was the line for Cats. A bunch of people left the line. Keith was kind to them – he said they must never have been down in this area before. I said they can’t tell the difference people the Orpheum theater and the Target Center, where they play basketball? C’mon, people. If you don’t know what line you are getting into, send a scout.

This was the first show of the new season at the Orpheum and we have new seats. Originally we didn’t renew, because I wasn’t sold on all of the shows. I thought we could just pick up single tickets to the shows we wanted. Then I realized we would forget and we would never get single tickets, so we got the season. With new (later) tickets came new seats – not on the aisle. Ew. I wouldn’t be the first woman in the restroom at intermission. We wouldn’t be able to clap and zoom to the parking ramp to escape before the masses. Oh well. Sigh. The show started and was going along very well. There were several stellar dancers that were entertaining me while the music was repetitive. The two women (girls?) in front of me were talking a lot. I wondered if this was the first time they had ever gone to a play, or if they were ninth graders. I thought about asking them to be quiet, but there was no storyline to follow, so it didn’t really matter. At 8:12 – I saw the lady’s phone – the man on our aisle let his companion know it was time (40 minutes after the show started?) to go. He went from sitting in his seat, to sitting in the aisle. He scooted on his butt down the four rows toward the exit. She followed (walking down step like regular people). They were gone. I WISHED THEM AWAY. I was not obsessing about sitting in their seats. I was periodically thinking that I hoped no random other people would come during intermission and sit in their seats, because I wanted to sit in their seats. If random other people came, I would say that they (the disappearing, scooting people) were our friends, and that they (the random other people) should go away. Intermission came and Keith immediately zoomed over two seats. Phew. We were on the aisle.

As intermission progressed, I was listening to the people ahead of us (now different people than the possible ninth graders, since we moved). The woman was not enjoying the show and the man was trying to explain the plot to her. Hmmm. There is no plot. That is the thing. Is it possible not everyone knows that already? It’s old poems, made into songs for cats to sing and dance to. No plot. Makes no sense. It’s not supposed to. Or whatever. He had apparently seen the movie and was trying to explain the plot they tried to add to the movie. It’s not in the play. Just cats in the play. I finally had to tap in and ask what brought them to this strange play that they were not enjoying. It was part of their season tickets. We had a very enjoyable conversation about how odd the play is. They were sticking around to hear Memory in the second act (it was good – glad they heard it). I enjoyed Macavity Cat in act two – the sneakin’ song. When we moved to Minnesota, Benjamin was three. The Empire Brass Broadway CD must have been new, or Benjamin just liked it, because we listened to it with some frequency. When Macavity Cat would come on, he would run to the basement (and expected Keith to follow) so they could sneak around the support pole down there. Why? Who knows? Didn’t know then, don’t know now, but the memory was certainly sweet. When the giant tire flies up with old Deuteronomy (who seemed to be a Bigfoot) and Grizabella on it, the couple in front of me were laughing so hard they were shaking. Good times for everyone!

As the show ended, we clapped and dashed toward the exit. I very much hoped Carrie Underwood was still singing – and she was! All quiet on the parking lot front. We hurried to the elevators – which were apparently just installed, because of the gazillion times we have been there, we had never noticed them before – and then circled straight (circled straight? That seems wrong, but it is what I meant) down and out. I think we were in Woodbury while there were still people trying to get out of the ramp. We lead charmed lives!