This year Target sold approximately 12 gift cards every second of business hours during the week of Christmas. This holiday is one heck of a commercial animal. It was nice this year that instead of rushing to hit the post-holiday sales, I cozied up with some post-holiday theater.
We checked out the "Santaland Diaries" show at Bryant Lake Bowl tonight. The play is based off of essays written by David Sedaris, recalling his experiences working as an elf for Macy's. We can be horrible people when we think no one is watching, but it turns out David was watching. Closely. He mocks himself, he mocks us, and we all laugh together. The intermission guitarist sounded more like Slash vs. Bing Crosby, and I couldn't be more thankful. If I heard that quasi-Christmas song about a kid wanting to get new shoes for his about-to-kick-the-bucket mother before she goes to meet Jesus I think I might have punched someone in the noggin.
And I enjoyed Pacifico while chilling out during the whole thing. Our waiter was so mellow even though he was bustin' butt (and ducking constantly) to serve the entire theater. Cheers to you, buddy. Nice work.
Being tucked away in that little theater behind the bowling alley reminded me that underneath all the wrapping paper and glitzy bows, we are all just a bunch of fruitcakes. Humans are silly creatures. There was the herd of suburban trophy wives with the acrylic nails, Tiffany necklaces, and implants and cleavage galore. A pregnant woman looked highly uncomfortable in the theater seats, yet warm and content next to her partner. A set of parents herded their teenage iPod-toting son into the theater for a 'family event.' And then there was us: two teachers, a bankruptcy paralegal, a nurse, and whatever I am. I'm sure we annoyed someone, or made someone smile, or connected somehow to those around us. It's the Bryant Lake Bowl, afterall. A fishbowl of the human race, watching something on stage to get a sense that we somehow connect with what's outside of us.
Afterwards we trudged through the slush down the street (Lake and Lyndale) to the La Bodega Tapas Bar. I am not a martini girl, but I convinced myself I could handle a Washington Apple Martini after consuming my weight in sugar cookies and chocolate the past couple of days. We ate tiramasu while talking about everything from war to vacationing in Mexico to the death of Pakistan's Bhutto. It's just good to breathe easy with good people, you know? Plus I love the color orange, and I was surrounded by it. Posh. Very posh. And half empty. We had most of the bar to ourselves.
For just a moment I forgot that my mom announced my divorce in her mass Christmas form letter.
And we even forgot about the fact that two of us got our halls decked (I mean cars decked) with snow emergency parking tickets and received the gift of two tow trips (for two cars) to the Minneapolis impound lot today.