11 July 2008

Future Us

Last night before seeing an SPF show, Allison and I met in the Public's lobby. It's a big space, scattered with tables and, for the festival, brain-hurtingly red couches. Being frugal and creative ladies, we decided to picnic for dinner, taking advantage of the friendly space (and adapting plans that had previously been for a Union Square movie). We sat down and laid out our meals - hard-boiled eggs and broccoli (and a piece of chocolate) for me; an avocado, a tomato, a plum, some feta cheese, and two crumpets for Allison. Totes weirdos, but also tasty, and we tucked in (is that a word for eating?) and got to catching up. But then over Allison's shoulder I saw two women in their late 50s pulling what out of their bags? Hummus, tabbouleh, a pack of pita bread, tiny grapes... one even went to the lobby bar to grab a beer, which they split in plastic cups. And there we were in thirty years.

(The play we saw was not Future Me, despite what this title may imply, but I'll take this opportunity to remind you that I know the play and it's great and you should see it. It plays the last week of SPF, July 22-27. $10 tickets!)

(Also, PSA, FYI, FWIW: SPF used to take place at Theater Row, aka the COLDEST THEATRES IN THE WORLD. Well, the lethal air conditioning seems to have come with them to the Public. Bring a sweater!)

1 comment:

M. Alice said...

I weaseled my way into a comp for "Neighborhood 3". Gotta support the new kids, ya feel meh?

After the show, throughout the lobby, a peculiar odor filled the air. I couldn't quite place it but it was PUNGENT. Some dreadful pipe must've burst somewhere. It was nauseating.

I also weaseled my way into the dress rehearsal for the musical "Black Suits" in the first week. Anna Chlumsky approached me in the lobby before the show; I looked at her and didn't know who the fuck she was until she pointed at herself and said, "Anna". I really need to get out more.