This Monday Surely Didn't Get Me Down!

Work was blah today... little things coming back to my desk, conference calls that got delayed, drafting that was just tortuous. But then, an e-mail. A reminder. L.J., my friend C.C.'s friend, e-mailed. A.B., just writing to confirm you will be coming to the benefit tonight, for the Actor's Fund of America, to see "The Best LIttle Whorehouse in Texas". I cringed. I forgot. It was one of those things I confirmed to thinking I would cancel or L.J. would just forget... big corporate event, so many people, I would slip into oblivion. I hadn't.

Seven o'clock in the evening and it was time to bolt from the office. Make it or break it. I dashed to the theater, on 52nd, between 7th and 8th. I thought I would have to put on a good face. I arrived and see C.C., we embrace, kiss, chat. She looks luminous, just got back from home, had a great time. L.J. arrives and we walk in. The theater is full of very handsome men, I trip up as I walk, not looking where I'm stepping, distracted at the sights. Then I think actors, nah. I bump into a co-worker with whom I am staffed on a project, she ends up sitting next to me.

We listen to Liz Smith give a moving speech, references to Ann Richards, etc. Funny, moving, thoughtful, provoking. Curtain raises, show begins, laughs abound. The performance is odd, as actors have books in their hands, and glance for a reference to their lines. Then I realize, this performance has been put up in a matter of weeks, with actors from all over Broadway, as a benefit. And yet, the pull it off perfectly.

I laugh, I joke with my co-worker, with L.J., C.C. The actors are enthralled at being there, they have a glow, a joy. It's contaminous. They are amazing, in short.

Intermission... some watch is being auctioned. I wonder on over, mere curiosity. A Cartier Roadster, Men's. Who know's what it was, but I was possessed and bid. I walked around, came back. Someone else had bid. No, that watch is going to be mine. I bid again. I walk around, came back. Someone else had bid again. That watch will be mine. I bid again. Call to the show.

Second half of the show is even more mesmerizing. What voices, what passion. I wondered what it would be like to have that passion in my line of work. I lose my train of thought as laughter takes over.

The show comes to an end. I run to the lobby and linger. Where do the bids stand. I have been outbid, the jerk walks away and says, at least it will cost you more. I can't care. I end up winning the bid at below what I had expected to pay for the watch. I pick it up tomorrow. The owner of Wempe has my picture taken, cards are exchanged, contact information taken.

Can't even think of sleeping right now.

A.B.