And I Love a Hockey Game and Then a Cabaret
A typical Saturday in December: sleeping in a little, then doing laundry and cleaning the apartment until 3 pm. Every time, I think I'm going to be done with those chores by noon. But no, never.
After that the day got going more. There was a game on at the modernist ice rink at 4 pm, so a few of us went over to watch the local boys thump the ivy out of Princeton, 4 to 1. Princeton was the underdog coming in, apparently. I didn't know that at game time, which is probably good, since my university loyalty isn't usually strong enough to override my usual impulse to root for the underdog.
I was struck again by how good the soundscape of a hockey game is. And I love trying to identify which '80s pop song the pep band is blaring out, echoingly, from across the rink. And for the first minute of each period, watching how the players leave a trail of skate marks in the ice behind them wherever they go. And having a hot dog. Yes! I love being easily entertained.
By this time we had our first New Haven snowfall of the season, a heavy pummeling of large wet gobs of snowflake. After the game ended I walked through it to the university Cabaret, earning my date night with 20 minutes in the bitter cold. I've been meaning to make it to the Cabaret for a while, but in the way where you never actually get around to doing it. Dinner was overpriced and service was shaky, but the show was a winner. It was written by an 11-year-old, actually, who composed it at an arts summer camp: a sci-fi love story with musical numbers (not by the 11-year-old, I presume). Highly entertaining for its goofy, incoherent plot and for its either naive or uncomplicated, clear-eyed view of human (or rather alien) relationships. Good vibes. I'll probably remember it better than most of the stage productions I've seen here.
After that the day got going more. There was a game on at the modernist ice rink at 4 pm, so a few of us went over to watch the local boys thump the ivy out of Princeton, 4 to 1. Princeton was the underdog coming in, apparently. I didn't know that at game time, which is probably good, since my university loyalty isn't usually strong enough to override my usual impulse to root for the underdog.
I was struck again by how good the soundscape of a hockey game is. And I love trying to identify which '80s pop song the pep band is blaring out, echoingly, from across the rink. And for the first minute of each period, watching how the players leave a trail of skate marks in the ice behind them wherever they go. And having a hot dog. Yes! I love being easily entertained.
By this time we had our first New Haven snowfall of the season, a heavy pummeling of large wet gobs of snowflake. After the game ended I walked through it to the university Cabaret, earning my date night with 20 minutes in the bitter cold. I've been meaning to make it to the Cabaret for a while, but in the way where you never actually get around to doing it. Dinner was overpriced and service was shaky, but the show was a winner. It was written by an 11-year-old, actually, who composed it at an arts summer camp: a sci-fi love story with musical numbers (not by the 11-year-old, I presume). Highly entertaining for its goofy, incoherent plot and for its either naive or uncomplicated, clear-eyed view of human (or rather alien) relationships. Good vibes. I'll probably remember it better than most of the stage productions I've seen here.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home