One Mo' Time

From Wicked To Weird

(singing) "Itsmabirthday...la la la" (end singing)

Fabulous day, Saturday.

Zes and I celebrated one day early because another wonderful friend, Miss Mary, gifted me with third row orchestra seats to Wicked! Intriguiging story line, brilliant staging and performances. Plus the costumes were something imaginative and inspired. I laughed. I cried. I want to see it again.

Next it was off to see the sushi and sake at Naniwa. Friendly (and cute) host. Attentive service. But most of all, the seafood is superbly fresh. If you're in Chicago sometime, try the fiery dragon roll. Yummy-licious!

On the way to Naniwa, Zes spied a brand new coffee and desert lounge called 212 Farenheit. Kind of a retro, space-age collision of neon, luminescent acrylic, and marshmellow-like acoustic tiling in the booths. Interesting place and good coffee. Try the atomic white chocolate rasberry mousse cake.

We were going to walk off all the foody goodness, when I saw an old haunt: The Baton. Turns out Zes had never seen the show, so two tickets were purchased and we set ourselves at the bar in the darkened room. Apparently, The Baton is celebrating its 36th anniversary. Unfortunately, the decor and the dancers are starting to show their age. It was kind of sad, really.

Despite that, the place still packs 'em, the brides-to-be still come by the limousine loads, and the old suburban tourists can still get their bald heads rubbed with some mighty fine drag queen breasts. The audience is REALLY the show. By now, I'm losing steam so time to head home. However, little did I know, my show was not over. Always count on the inhabitants of a CTA bus for a little extra je ne c'est quoi.

Head southbound on the Number 29, past downtown and the south-loop condo explosion, and you hit rock-bottom poor and strung out. Dirty, odiferous, unshaven men with wild eyes and uncertain intentions, going up and down the aisle asking for a "transfer I don't need". Young men changing seats and eyeing your goods. There was even one women who was alternately puffing on her asthma inhaler, having a heated discussion with herself, and praising the Lord loudly with each raspy, angry breath.

Just get me home, I thought. Pretending to read my Playbill, making no eye contact while scanning the assembled, I casually clutch my handbag and birthday booty. Ooh. My stop, and I tumble off the bus and head away from the scene, being careful to note that I was not being followed.

What a wicked weird and wonderful day.

posted by La Cabeza Grande @ 10:54 AM