IMG_1306.PNGHe took me to see a play. An interactive play, a wild play, a play where audience-goers could munch on fudge sundaes and toss popcorn whenever. Wherever! At whomever.

In all the time I’ve been here, I never knew such a scene existed. Plays were overpriced, heavy, weighty, nursed in fat auditoriums of Friday night old city life. But this–this was spunky, young, fresh and vintage, a place where theatre-lovers, high school thespians, people who’d loved the stage–maybe just not enough to run off to Broadway–performed. The topic at hand: zombies in the heart of Louisiana.

We arrived an hour and a half early, ordered our dinners and a pitcher of cider. I was, of course, tipsy one cup in. After lots of head-swiveling and peering around and letting the scene soak in, the play started. We watched the scenes unfold in three parts, two intermissions, during one of which we ordered a cup of hot fudge sundae with caramel and nuts.

I remembered the first play I’d gone to in college that’d been similar. My best friend had brought me. There was an element of high school theatre, too, except cranked up with older, more dramatic, more seasoned actors, and more expensive props, and stranger plots. It was also interactive. In that play, we’d gotten up to visit rooms of the crime scene, the home, the actors’ spaces.

We finished the pitcher by the third act. The detective’s children paddled onto stage as the lights dimmed and we finished clapping. I felt happy.


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