The Original Creeper

Guess what. I've been getting some really crummy hours, less than twenty a week on average. But they come at just the right time to be annoying. I teach three lessons, and then leave.
So the one day that I plan something late at night.... they give me a 10 hour work day.

And  honestly, I didn't mind it. Morning lessons aren't so bad, even if I was just subbing for a day.
Then I did some Lifeguarding for the Chinese Olympic Synchronized Swimming Duet Team and ...
Ya. Read that sentence again. The two Chinese girls are practicing in Palo for the 2016 Summer Olympics. They have one girl Chinese coach, and one French guy that is rather in-touch with his feminine side.
They were fun to watch. But I'm already sick of the first 20 seconds of their music.
It made for a good conversation piece with the little kids, even if they didn't know everything I was talking about.

After one class, the father of one of my students (he swims laps during the lesson) came up to me and started talking in the most beautiful Australian accent I have ever heard. His name is Chris, and he operates and indoor sports facility that operates year-round to teach kids sports. He runs the soccer program they call "little kickers," and introduced me to his "mate (insert name here)" who runs the basketball program. They are looking for coaches. He asked if I was interested.
I was more interested in listening to his beautiful accent than the fact that he was practically offering me a job.
I don't know the first thing about being a soccer coach. I've never even played soccer. He didn't see that as a problem. Apparently, If I can teach kids how to swim in a pool, I can teach them anything anywhere.
Interesting theory.  Pretty flattering. And did I mention that I loved his accent?
I suppose he would have given me a business card, but... he was in a swimsuit. So he gave me the basic URL, and said I could look it up if I was interested.
That goes for Australian accents as well.

Moving on. I finished my lessons. I took my bike, noticed that the front tire was rather flat, but thought that it was enough to get home on. Silly me. I got about half way. Then the tire was 100% flat.Plan A) Walk to the closest intersection (thankfully, not that far away) so that I could call Dad to come and get me. Then I remembered, I didn't have my cell-phone. Split second plan B) Walk slightly past the intersection and into the little car wash on the corner. A car wash is for car care/maintenance. It probably has air for tires. It was a good idea. But there was no air. Split-second plan C) Ask the lady towel-drying her car if I can borrow her phone. Repeat basic idea of plan A.
Plan C works.
She was blonde lady, probably in her early thirties (but ages are so easily miss-guessed, as you will see), and  she was really sympathetic to my plight. She decided to stay with me until my dad came, so we started talking. Here is the gist of our conversation:
"I'm glad your brother (who actually answered the phone) picked up for a strange number."
Me: "Oh, we don't have caller ID (later, Dad told me that we do on one phone... you learn something new everyday.) so we usually answer the phone. (Now I try to be funny) But if it's a political add, we hang up."
"Who would you vote for if you could?"
Me: "The Republican candidate."
"I'm not too political, who would that be?"
Me: "Mitt Romney"
"Oh, so you're Mormon."
Wow. That was fast. "Yes."
It turns out that her mom was baptized a few weeks ago, but she didn't have any strong convictions to join.
She said "So, you have lots of siblings?"
Dang, this lady is good."Yes, there are five of us. I'm the second oldest."
"So, how old are you, 13?"
Ouch. "I'm 17." Maybe she's not that good. I do look younger than I am, and I was riding a bike whereas most 17-year-olds drive. I said I had just come from the pool, not from work. So it was a little saddening, but understandable. I blew it off by saying something about how people always think that Eliza is older, and how it probably has something to do with her haircut.
Not long after that, my Dad drove up, we attached the bike to the back, thanked the lady, and left.

Very interesting, Alayna, but how is this at all relevant? Well, I now had half an hour to eat, shower, and get dressed for PHANTOM.

I did. We were pushing the time restraints, but we left at 8:30.




I saw the "Phantom of the Opera."

I have wanted to see it for a long time. It is leaving on September 2nd and yesterday was my last chance to see it. Because of my crazy work schedule, we had to go to the 9:30 pm performance.
They usually have a good deal for locals tickets. But it only applies for the best (and most expensive) seats in the house, and you have to buy them in even numbers. So Eliza, Mom, my friend Melissa, and I went. We bought the tickets on Saturday for the following Monday (August 20th).

MOM FORGOT TO BRING A CAMERA! This wasn't too big of an issue, because Melissa (always prepared) had brought one. I just thought I'd mention it because it has to be some kind of significant historical thing. The time my mother forgot a camera at a major event.

I found out that you can steal photos from facebook... which I will now do. (evil laugh)


This is Melissa, Michael Crawford, Alayna, and Eliza.
Who is Michael Crawford?

But of course, this Michael is made of wax. They made a LOT of wax people.... and all of them were rather freaky should some day be featured in an episode of Dr. Who.

Mom kept wanting to take photos... even though it wasn't her camera.
The theater was a LOT smaller than I thought it was....  and I think we had the best seats in the house!
People were taking pictures, so Mom decided that we could too. One of the ushers thought otherwise.
This is the photo of "no photography."

 
The set was unbelievable! Things moved so quickly! And when the curtains moved aside to show a TON of wax figures acting as part of the opera house audience, I kind-of jumped. I'm not a fan of wax figures. They used wax figures like movies use extras. Need people to fill an opera house? Make them out of wax. Want Michael Crawford greeting guests? Make him out of wax. Need to fill up the stage in "Mascarade?" Make half of the people on stage out of wax! (I actually didn't catch on to that one until about half-way through the musical number. I said, "Melissa, some of those people are wax." She had already noticed it.)

I REALLY loved it. I swear, if this were like a Disney land ride, where they record your reactions, I would make millions. I was SO involved. There were blinding fireworks, and when they shot fire, I felt the blast of heat. Even though I knew the general idea of what was going to happen, it still surprised me. I knew the chandelier was going to fall... but I still almost screamed.

Fun fact. The Phantom of the Opera is the original creeper. Listening in on conversations, delusional ideas, popping out of random places all the time, obsession with Christine, and a major case of egotism.

Raoul on the other hand.... "what a man" is the phrase that comes to mind.
I'm definitely "Team Raoul." He's not crazy, he loves Christine but isn't manipulative, he sings a real love song, and he comes to her rescue! (Even if it back-fires and he ends up in a cage with nifty spikes that go in and out on Phantoms command. And then he has to watch helpless as Christine makes-out with Phantom in an Aladin/Jasmine style distraction, something I could barely stomach.)

Christine sings beautifully. But there really doesn't seem to be much going on in her head. She's pretty weak and I'm not sure that she deserves Raoul. But she certainly doesn't deserve to be stuck with Phantom.

Madame Giry (the lady who communicates with Phantom, brought him here, the whole shebang) was really tall, and wore a black outfit that was a cross between Nanny McPhee and Elphaba. I liked her.

The cast was great, and played their roles perfectly. I enjoyed the whole thing and loved every musical number. It was edited, so the story was rushed, but still understandable.

The thing I didn't like about it was the other people in the audience. The guy that cut us in line for the tickets without a second thought, and then made snide comments when we reclaimed our spots (led by fearless Melissa). The lady who was obviously drunk and sang along with parts of the songs and played on her cellphone. WHO PLAYS ON THEIR CELLPHONE IN $80 SEATS??? I pretty much hated her.

The end. We left (after the usher kindly said the show was over and invited us to leave the theater), and got another photo for proof that we had been at Phantom.

Mom got talking to a couple who had come form Ohio, just to see this play.

As a fun side note. Do you know the song "50 Ways to Say Goodbye?"
I always thought of it as a mix of "Phantom of the Opera" and "Mariachi."
See for yourself.