We saw American Idiot at Berkeley Rep today.
As we walked to our seats, Tiffany and Jessica pointed out the card on the seat a few rows in front of us. It was addressed to "Constance," and her seat number was written on the envelope. We joked about grabbing it and started calling each other "Constance." I wondered what it was all about and, since my friends are smarter than me, they guessed that somebody in the show left it for his guest of honor.
I was so excited to see Constance, and, more importantly, see her face when she opened the card. What did it contain? A thank you? An I love you? An invitation to dinner? I was sure that the next single woman to walk through the theatre door would be Constance. I just kept waiting.
The show started, and I was still obsessed with Constance. I wondered which actor was wooing her. I followed their eyes to see if they glanced to her empty seat.
And then I hated Constance. I hated her for not showing up. I hated her for ruining my anticipation of romance. I hated her for breaking his heart. Damn you, Constance. You don't deserve him.
I hope he doesn't give up because of you.
4 comments:
It really would have been nice to see Constance's face when she got whatever was in the envelope. Damn Constance!
Maybe you should have snagged the envelope before you left. On second thought, that would've been pretty creepy. I like the post. It's about time for another trip up north; things are always so fun when you're around.
It was probably a breakup letter anyway.
Michael, We definitely talked about grabbing it. Thanks for the kind words. You guys are ALWAYS welcome to stay at my house. You need to get another trip in before Baby's here!
Post a Comment