Where you at?
I scurry from the cold into our arts building. From the inside of my down jacket (thank goodness– it hasn’t left my body since coming back into this intense New York cold), I feel my phone buzzing. Finally, someone answering my text message.
Second row, four seats in. I check my watch. 8:59. I rush down to our theater for the comedy show.
When I get in, throngs of people are surrounding official looking theater members holding boxes.
“Alright everybody, if you can donate anything for Comedyfest please do! We appreciate everything!” This is one of the first nights I am not carrying cash on me. I rush past them with my eyes cast downward. If they catch your eye, you’re a goner.
Like many of our performance buildings, our theater is perfectly designed. The seats slide upward like stadium seating. The stage is a foot from the first row.
Standing in the aisle my neck cranes into the seats. I see Krissy and Laquisha…and no empty seat. Krissy shrugs her shoulders. What can I do?
I scan the aisles quickly. An empty seat is available at the end of the row. Right next to a London-er.
Ah, which reminds me. About forty kids spent their first semester in London (lucky bastards). When they got back to campus, they stood out from everybody else. They were unrecognizable.
I placed myself next to him and we formally chatted about all things important: the weather, Glee’s return, the cute guy sitting the next row over.
The lights dimmed and the show started. The same two scavengers with their cardboard box jumped on stage with red clown noses stoutly sitting on their faces.
Oh, it gets better.
“Alright everybody,” said Jason, the head of the theater department, “at the end of the show we’re going to have an…auction. But it won’t be for real items– you’ll just have to wait and see!”
The auction slipped through my ears as the first group gallavanted on stage: Skidomedy! This group was only missing the multicolored joker outfits.
One kid imparticular stood out.
One word: ginger. It is a running joke within our group that Krissy has an….affection for gingers.
I bent over and cupped my hands over my mouth. “Krissy! Krissy!” I hissed. “Is that Pat!”
When she nodded her curls bounced. He was definitely not bad looking. Good pick, Krissy.
One group blurred into the next and an hour later, the auction had begun.
“It’s called ‘one minute of truth!’ An audience member can choose one of the cast members and ask them anything they want, only ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions– but only for a minute!” explained Jason.
The bidding started at $5. Slowly hands were raised– the price creeped up by $2 each time.
At $9, Krissy boldly raised her hand. In her seat, she was planning something.
Another hand shot up. $11.
Krissy held the highest bet. She shot a look back to her competitor who (smartly) kept his hand down. Jason motioned for her to choose.
As if we didn’t already know.
“Ummm. Pat.” She giggled. He sprang up and glided over to her side of the stage.
“Is your favorite color blue?” She began.
“Do you like chocolate ice cream?”
“No!” Tension fizzled in the air.
“Do you like vanilla?”
“No!” Does this kid not eat ice cream at all?
Jason piped up. “Help her out, guys!”
A brunette in front of me shouted, “Is your favorite position doggy style?”
He turned the color of his hair, then laughed, “Yes!”
The spotlight was back on Krissy.
“Will you go out on a date with me?”
Our entire row burst out in excited squeals. She had asked him out in front of the entire theater- and he said YES!
“What else, what else?” Jason yelped.
“I got all I needed.” Krissy gasped, leaning back into her chair. She sat back, absolutely glowing.
After the show, like the children we are, we pushed her towards him. They spoke quietly for a moment, and she return, even more excited than she had been before.
“He’s taking me out later this week.”
The squeals filled the lobby.