On Broadway

My mom was in town this weekend, and we had the opportunity to see the Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast. It was marvelously fantastically fun-- my mom, Chloe and I experiencing the show together. And thanks to a kind and generous castmember, we were allowed to go backstage after the show and look around. (Kind and Generous Castmember, I'm not using your name to respect your privacy, but know that we are very, very appreciative). Chloe was in awe of the stage and the whole experience; when she was asked if she had any questions, all the thousands of inquiries she had peppered me with during the actual show flew from her brain. She could only ask how they managed to get a little boy's face into the teacup to play Chip, and where did his body go? (the answer: clever use of mirrors hid his body).

As thrilling as the experience was, here is the thing that sticks with me: If you were sitting in the 4th row of a huge Broadway production, would you feel compelled to break open your leftover Chicken McNuggets with sweet and sour sauce and scarf them down in the middle of the first act, swathing the whole area with the aroma of grease? The woman next to me was compelled to do just such a thing.