A day at the MET opera

I am backtracking a bit with this story ...

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The one before last Saturday I took Geoff to the opera for his birthday! I knew I was going to be out of order after my operation, so we decided to celebrate a week earlier!

I never used to like going to the opera at home, but here, in New York it's different!

I feel such an intellectual just by going/being there!
Of course, I like the whole nine yards of dressing up in a beautiful gown/dress (Have I mentioned in previous posts that I was a princes???), hailing a cab, being dropped off right in front of the Lincoln Center, listen to an aria after which someone shouts out "Bravo" "Bravo" ... ooh I am getting chills just thinking about this grandiose scene ... following a romantic dinner for two in some cozy Manhattan hide away mom-pop restaurant.

Doesn't it sound so magnificent? The Metropolitan Opera ... oh wow ....

Maybe I just like it, because I could never imagine myself in this situation when I was small. Growing up it was more like this: wear the one dress designated for holidays (Christmas, Easter, Birthdays and the day of the communist workers, May 1st!), wait in front of the village mayor's office for the bus, cram into the vehicle with 40 other theater goers, travel for an hour either to Gyor (Hungary) or Bratislava (Slovakia) and eventually take a seat in a nose bleed / oxygen mask row all the way at the back. Sit through the performance and on the way home munch on the pre-made sandwiches!

I am glad to realize, that according to all signs my life standards have been raised! The nose bleed/oxygen mask row remains!

There was a gala show at the MET with Placido Domingo singing and many other stars of the opera world that I have no clue about (judging by the audience one has to reach the age minimum of 90 to be a hard core opera fan). The ticket said that "we're" celebrating "Mr. Volpe" - I was persuaded that he was some mega opera celebrity and that he'll sing his heart out for my Geoffrey's b-day ... just to find out that he was the MET's retiring manager of 10 years (?). No talent there! The guy was a carpenter and only sings in a shower!

The event started at 5:30, our dinner reservations were for 10:15 PM - I was confident that almost 5 hours in between should give us ample of time to hike down to our favorite restaurant, Suba. After listening to 3 hours of arias in Spanish, German and English I wasn't so sure about the previous statement.

Placido (is that his first or last name?) was amazing! His voice fills the space to the extent that we had goosebumps every time he opened his mouth and kept it open for more than 30 seconds.

Intermission: We run for the concessions stand, because even Figaro Figaro Figaro sucks when your stomach sings along in a foreign tongue ....

.... two lines ahead ....
wait for 15 minutes on one
ask for a BIG saaandwich and
we're told "The food is sold on the next line"
- irritated we move one-step right ..
wait
wait
wait ...
... ask for a BIG BIIIG sandwich ---> They're out!
When I pin the barman against the wall with my question
"How is it possible that you have a full house and 20 minutes into the intermission you're out?"
(I throw a mean face)
"I don't know! Why don't you complain to Mr. Volpe"
(There you go b%$tch!) ... he hands me the last brownie ...

Content with a coke and brownie down my digestive system I head for the ladies room -well, I was just going to head for the ladies room, because the line snakes around the bar, the staircase, the elevators and while there is no line in front of the men's bathroom (surprise, surprise!) the women's (even though it's located on the opposite side of the floor) ends right at the men's peepeepoopoo door!

Geoff joins me for a celebratory birthday queuing on the line for 10 minutes until we reach a "ladies only" territory and he waves good-bye!

I walk out of the stall, wash my hands and look at my shortest-hair-boy-image ... just contemplating whether to re-apply another layer of lipstick or not bother
"I look beautiful without" .. no need for additional make-up! .... when this AsianLookingByaPlasticSurgeonDefinition elderly lady looks at me and says
"Oh, dear your hair looks just fiiiine" and with that she gives me a stupid, stupid grin ...
... like I have no business standing in front of the mirror because I have no hair ...

(WHAAAAT?)
("You" horrible old whitch!)

I thank her for the compliment with a smile and step right in front of her ... apply my blueberry lipstick followed by lip gloss, tap tap on a piece of paper ... head tall I walk out ...

(I wished I was wearing the t-shirt that one my Boobee friend's husband had made for her "I may be bald, but you're fat and ugly! (And have Chinese eyes not by default I should add ... )"

You already know that I like opera, but holly shiiit 5 hours of it?

We left!

Stomach still singing in soprano we got to Suba.

The restaurant is below the ground and it sits on water, which runs underneath the seating and by the side of the walls. I am a multi-tasker and so while discussing the evening I was flipping my sandal on my foot, flip-flop and at one flop my red sandal flipped and was taken by the stream of water floating by the couple behind us munching on their arugula salad. ~~~~~Flip ~~~~~~ Flop~~~~~~~~

I then discreetly grabbed our Mel Gibbson look alike waiter and told him what happened ... The manager non-chalantly walked over, poked a hook into the water and handed me my soaking Carlos Santana shoe wrapped in a cloth napkin ..

The End.

P.S. Mr. Volpe what's up with those sandwiches? You shouldda bean fired ;)