still pumped from using the mouse.

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dateline: oZworld

22 september 1996 9:37 p.m.

I want to see it again! I feel like such a lemming, and my gushing is starting to make even me sick, but I loved it. "Les Miserables" was more than awesome. I don't even remember being so affected by it last time -- I must've cried four times. All the performances were breathtaking, the staging was seamless, the music -- especially from where we were sitting -- wholly stirring. After last night, I'm never settling for balcony seats again. We could see every facial expression, hear every gasp. You could even hear a slight creak as the huge rotating stage turned with the monstrous barricade on it... Sigh. I chickened out on the dress, but I'm glad I did. Even in my standby black (with a gold-chain belt), I felt a tad overdressed. There were a good many suits and evening gowns, but there were more than a few people in jeans and aloha shirts too. Just goes to show how much of a laid-back town this is. Even though he didn't get to see my gloves, Derek didn't complain. He was worried that the dress I did wear was slit too high on the side, too. How sweet, looking out for my innocence and modesty. Heh heh. He didn't wear a suit (the cad!), but I was treated to seeing him in sharp black dress slacks for the first time. He had a plain-white collared dress shirt, but his narrow, gold-flecked maroon tie set it all off. Quite handsome... not that I don't like his everyday downtown-professional "Reyn-wear." (If he's not careful, I'm going to steal some of his work shirts...) While we were waiting outside -- hobnobbing amongst the elite, as it were -- Derek got me a little glass of champagne. We both tried not to freak when the 'tender said, "that'll be $6.50, please." The money madness continued inside. Derek bought himself one of their $26 T-shirts, and (after I refused one for myself) picked up a fridge magnet for me. It's holding up my unpaid Citibank bill right now. I would have settled for the free playbill. I know myself too well -- I'm of the worst breed of packrat. I mean, just since I've moved into this apartment I've developed a drawer where I keep receipts of deep, personal significance... lots of movie ticket stubs, too. I'd need a warehouse for all my junk if I actually bought souvenirs for everything I've ever seen or done. I still buy them often, though, especially ugly concert T-shirts that I never wear. I think Derek developed a severe -- but momentary -- crush on Lea Salonga, which I guess is one disadvantage to sitting up so close to the stage (it's hard to develop crushes on brightly-colored spots). On the other hand, the guy who played Marius wasn't bad. Strong Italian features and a voice to die for. But in the program it said "he'd like to thank Dan for all his support." Figures. After the concert I didn't want to go home. I hate to get all dolled up for just one thing. After we swung past "The Wave" and "The Jungle," though, it didn't look like a night on the town was in our future -- it looked like it was "Gang Night" at the clubs, and we were definitely overdressed for them anyway. I made Derek drive us all the way out to Pearlridge to Anna Miller's, because we knew anywhere to eat in town would already be crawling with "Les Miserablets." It was clearly a big night for a lot of people -- a lot of the people there looked like they'd just left some formal banquet too. We toyed with the idea of sitting at the bar (Derek only wanted coffee), but we ended up taking a booth way in the back. Derek insisted that I sit across from him, even though the seats were huge and comfy enough for us to sit on one side (which is my preference) where I'd be able to lean against him. I pouted, and he explained that it was because he wanted to look at me. All together now: "Awwwww..." Derek liked "Les Miz" too, although he didn't like the little kid -- hired locally -- who played Gavroche. I agreed he wasn't so hot (we almost laughed during his "poignant death scene"), but what can you expect from a six-year-old actor? Derek also had to sit next to a little girl who kept asking her mom questions ("Is that real blood?"), who in turn had a pager that went off in the middle of the first act... I just raved about the performance, complained about work, complained about school and tried to teach him a little Hawaiian. You see, now we're learning imperative sentences (and the only way I remember that is by remembering that scene in "Life of Brian"): "E honi `oe ia`u," means, "Kiss me." And that's an order. It took us probably two hours to finish three cups of coffee and two pieces of peach cobbler pie. We made sure to tip our very patient waitress well (15 percent of our order would have been about a buck). I didn't get in until 1 a.m., and slept through my first class (again). Then, I decided to wait until after my afternoon class to eat lunch, and only realized after I got to my car that I barely had enough gas to make it down University. So I had to pay $21 to fill up at the first station I got to, which had a very slow pump, and all told I was about an hour late for work. Thank god the soop was even later. I can't complain. My voice is back, there's actually a breeze out tonight, and I'm still flying from the show... and the great company.