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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly July 29, 2003 “I heard the newspaper gave this show a B plus.” the woman behind me said. “Is that all?” I couldn’t believe it. The woman in front of me cut in. “A man must have scored it. It’s not sports. What do men know about live theater?” We all laughed. A woman who must have been in her late seventies was standing a few people behind me. “I’m learning a lot from watching. I figure that I’ll be able to join the chorus line by the end of the show.” I laughed. “I’m going to want to practice when I get home, but I live in an apartment. Don’t think the downstairs people will appreciate a late night practice session. Maybe I’ll take lessons one day.” The seventy year old shrugged her shoulders. “Why wait? You youngsters are always waiting. There’s no time to lose. When you find something you want, you have to grab at it!” She started tapping her feet slowly. We each joined in. First slowly. Then faster. We were a sight to see. Tapping, jumping up and down, flailing our arms about. The woman behind me laughed. “I think those dancers deserve an A plus. This is HARD WORK.” The seventy year old woman didn’t stop. She continued shuffling her feet back and forth to an invisible rhythm as we mimicked her staccato clicking sounds. “You’ve done this before!” “Show us how.” “Look at her move!” She spun and dipped and threw in a twirl. We yelled out encouragement as the women in the bathroom line behind us tried to crowd forward to see what the fuss was all about. “I tapped a bit as a kid.” She confided after her final tap. “A bit?” I doubted. “A lot.” She smiled. “I was in a chorus line. But. I haven’t tapped for years.” We were passing time in the ever long bathroom line at the Buel Theater at the Denver Performing Arts Center, where we had come to see the musical, Forty Second Street. We had to give up our game and enter the stalls that had been empty for some time. There is a code of ethics that says the next in line will enter the stall the moment it becomes empty. Yeah. Well. So much for ethics. We were having far too much fun. Before we left the bathroom, we tried to dab our faces dry with paper towels while giggling about messed up make up. “How will we explain leaving the bathroom in such a state?” The woman in front of me asked as she tried to reapply powder to her moist face. “I always find that no explanation is the best one.” I giggled. I found Margarita Man. He was still waiting on the men’s line. “It’s the only men’s room open in the whole place.” He moaned. I smiled. “Glad that you men get to experience the joy of waiting.” The men around him turned away in disgust. I’m guessing tomorrow these men will legislate some policy changes at the state level about how many MEN’S restrooms must be available in the crowded theater. “I’ll meet you back at the seat. I don’t want to miss the show.” I laughed. “You were sure in there a long time.” He said, noticing that I had left the bathroom with lots of new friends whom I was busily hugging good- bye. “Was I?” “Yes.” The seventy year old woman said as she passed by. “There was quite a line INSIDE our bathroom. Very deceiving.” She gave me a wink as she glided off on the elbow of her husband. I found my way back to my seat. The woman sitting in the seat next to mine turned to me. “Did he get lost?” I laughed. “No. He’s stuck in a line. I’m sure he’ll be here stepping on your toes any second now.” “Well. Maybe when he returns…” She smiled. “Perhaps he can climb into his seat from the back. So we don’t have to stand up to let him pass.” I laughed. “I dare you suggest that to him. Her daughter hung her head in her hands. “Mom. Don’t. You. Dare. Say. A. Word.” The woman looked at me. This was too good to pass up. “I double dare you to try to get him to climb over the back of his seat.” The woman turned to her daughter. “I have to do it. She DOUBLE DARED me.” The people around us were enjoying our pre-show entertainment. “Please, Mom. Don’t. Don’t embarrass me. Please don’t. You ALWAYS do this. Always. It’s like your hobby, embarrassing your daughter. Why? Why do you do it? Please. Please don’t. Please don’t.” I was trying to guess the girl’s age. Twenty? She wouldn’t be easy to convince. “How old are you?” I asked, playfully. “Nineteen.” She said, innocently. Ok. Nineteen. Yes. The age of sweet romance. “Well. You know. I’m on a date. And. Don’t you think that my date should try to impress me?” “You’re on a date?” She asked with big eyes. “Yes. Don’t you think my date should try to impress me? You know. Like Magnum P.I. who used to jump over the front of his car or Tarzan who would swing through the jungle. Don’t you think that we should give my date the opportunity to CLIMB over the back of his seat?” “I didn’t know you were on a date.” She said, breathlessly. “He’s cute. For a date.” I laughed. “I know.” “Know what?” She asked as her big eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask him myself.” Her mother and I laughed and laughed at her quick change of heart. The eyes of the whole section were on Margarita- man when he approached our row. “Excuse me, please.” He said to the older couple sitting at the end of the row. They didn’t budge. The young girl leaned forward. “Sir. We were wondering if you might be willing to walk behind the row…” She drew a line with her finger. “and climb over the back of your seat from the aisle so we wouldn’t have to stand up to let you in. Would you be willing to do that?” Nobody breathed. He hesitated. He looked at her. She smiled. He looked at her mother. She nodded, encouragingly. He looked at me. I smiled a big, big smile. He sighed. “Holly. You’re in trouble.” The whole section burst into laughter as my row stood to let Margarita-man stumble to his seat. He sat down. “I’m not leaving you alone any longer. It’s dangerous. Dangerous for me. Dangerous for the people around you.” He said, shaking his finger at the laughing nineteen year old who was busy high-fiving her mother. I laughed. “Dangerous?” Yes. I liked being thought of as dangerous. Why not? Maybe I could walk around with a hazard sign, so that people wouldn’t tred on me. Why not? Well. Mostly because I am about as far from dangerous as anyone out there. Dangerous? Me? No. I’m just finding creative ways to pass the time. ------------ About the author: Holly Winter is an adventurer who has become known for sprinkling humor through her extraordinary life that continues to entertain the many thousands of fans here at Useless-Knowledge.com. Whether she is giving advice to the new mayor of Denver, swimming with sting rays at the Cayman Islands, or dealing with the side effects of her epilepsy medication, you will find her positive take on the world to be the perfect accompaniment to each and every part of your week. Look for Holly’s columns every Saturday. Be sure to sign up for an e-mail reminder when her column has been posted at her Yahoo Group where a photo will be posted that goes along with the column. Send a blank e-mail to livingthelifeofholly-subscribe@yahoogroups.com You can contact Holly at her website Livingthelifeofholly.com or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Comment on this column in the forum. Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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