Last night I took my cousin Anna to the Met. Placido Domingo was singing Orestes in a new production of Iphegenie en Tauride by Gluck, and it was sublime. However, experiencing the actual opera is only half the reason to go to the Met. Really, you go to the Met to get dressed up and drink champagne on the grand tier and look over and see Renee Fleming.
Anna had never been to the Met, and she enjoyed every minute - especially since she herself had played Iphegenia in one of her acting classes. However, the air was thin at the top of Olympus and rather than retire to an elegant lounge across the street, we decided to go downtown and see what interesting things we could find....
And what did we find? Lesbian burlesque (OH MY GOD...she's making a vulva out of balloons)...bisexual soldiers on leave (is he flirting with you or with me? If we're drinking the same drink and he bought only one, who is it for?) ...a blues bar where the musicians wore French maid outfits and sang in German... the best 2 dollar cheese pizza ever(okay...we're only getting one more slice, but we have to share) .... limousines parked in front of mountains of garbage.... and, last but not least, a situation where a police officer stopped the car and pointed a gun at us...well, really they pointed the gun at the hoodlums BEHIND us, but I digress.
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