My friend Alison works for a concierge company that books activities for clueless NYC tourists. Because she spends so much of her day recommending Broadway shows and selling expensive dinners, she’s constantly being wooed by theatres and restaurants. Last week, she let me be wooed with her.
We met at an Upper East Side restaurant for fried hors d’oeuvres that I couldn’t eat because I was trying to play it cool on the calories before my impending trip to Ohio to see my family. (Every time I lose five pounds, my great-aunt, godloveher, likes to hug me and tell me how she and my great-uncle were so worried I’d end up “round-shouldered” and alone.) Afterward, we boarded a shiny new tour bus to take us the twenty blocks down Broadway to the theatre district, and I had to look on as Alison ate a Magnolia Bakery cupcake:
I’m not really up on my Broadway, so I hadn’t heard of Million Dollar Quartet and honestly wasn’t expecting much from it. Especially when the theatre where it was playing, the Nederlander, was one of the tiniest I’ve been in. Of course crap doesn’t make it to Broadway, though, and the size of the theatre made it so that our front-row mezzanine seats were approximately a foot from the stage.
The musical revolves around the night in 1956 when Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, and Jerry Lee Lewis all came together in Memphis to record an impromptu jam session. It’s really a musical for people who don’t like musicals, because it actually makes sense when the actors break into song. And there’s nothing cheesy about the music or lyrics; it feels like you’re at a rock concert, only you don’t have to put up with any deafening 1950s-era Elvis fans.
All of the performances were spot-on, but Johnny Cash blew our minds with how close his voice sounded. And at the end, when I thought, “Okay, this has been nice, but there’s nothing they can do at the end that’ll surprise me,” they totally gave me chills with something as simple as taking a picture. You’ll understand it when you see it. And you should see it.
You should also wait outside after the show like we did and happen to run into Elvis. And when he tells you he’s on his way to dinner like he did with us, remind him to stay away from the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches lest he die an early death.
9 Comments
How could you NOT eat that cupcake? That is willpower. Strong willpower.
Love your header. I’ve lived in Columbus my entire life and have never been to THEE pumpkin show. I have, however, sat in its traffic.
The cupcake was basically the difference between hearing my great-aunt exclaim over my sister’s thinness in a thinly-veiled attempt at motivating me to spend more than 20 minutes a week in the gym and not. I still think I made the right choice. Although if it had been a Cheryl’s cookie, I’m not sure I would’ve survived that.
I’m so pumped to know you’re in Columbus. I’m not sure there’s anything I could say to convince you to go to the Pumpkin Show if you’ve held out this long, but maybe some photos from my eating spree during the last one will help: http://www.donuts4dinner.com/2009/11/20/chowing-at-the-circleville-pumpkin-show/
Seriously, though. GO THIS YEAR. And I’ll keep reading your blog.
I want her cupcake…
I mean, that is a fine cupcake and all, but the Chicago cupcakes in that link I sent you look a million times more exciting. If Aaron comes to see you, please take him there and make him buy some to bring to me.
i read about this recently…but can’t remember where! maybe new york mag? sounds fun. hope easter in oHIo was fun…
things are just lovely here and i’m dying to venture across the river for another adventure with you soon. let’s plan something outlandish–mustard on my sandwich or something!!!!
I think you’re right about New York. Kam said he saw it in there, too. I, of course, am too busy reading Twilight on my new Kindle to mess with magazines.
Seriously, I’ll make myself available any time you want to come in. We can eat something totally neutral, like pizza. With anchovies and oxtail on it.
I AM up on my Broadway, and I’d never heard of Million Dollar Quartet.
And who knew Louisianians had so much in common with Ohioans? I get the same thing about ending up round-shouldered and alone, but I get it every day from my mom.
Apparently it’s been in Chicago for a year and a half, but I guess it must not be that popular. (Probably because it wouldn’t appeal to teenyboppers and gays?)
While calling you unlovable, does your mom also talk about how perfect and beautiful your siblings are? That’s the really fun part.
You should be thankful I wasn’t there, because I trip to a theater with the name Nederlander would have had me quoting Three Amigos all night.
(In a German accent): “His name is Ned Nederlander! He is my FAVORITE shtar of da silver sreen!”