The Action Takes Place During the Plague Year 1593
Well, that sounds like a cheery evening of theater, doesn’t it? This time I was about as far off Broadway as you can get. The Abingdon Theater Company is one of a myriad of black box theaters that dot Manhattan. I saw The English Channel, which I was drawn to by a favorable review in the Times but I wasn't impressed. It revolved around the love/hate friendship between William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe. Does anyone know if Marlowe was gay? Because this Marlowe was really, REALLY gay. Another English historical drama. Some people would say that I’m in a rut. I prefer to call it a groove.
Before the play, I ate at the Tick Tock Diner on 8th Avenue and 34th St. It’s not really a diner. It’s a restaurant with a diner theme which is pretty lame, since there are plenty of authentic diners still around. My waiter was an old man who had no business waiting tables. He should be retired instead of grinding out a restaurant job. I felt just awful for him. He looked to be in his late 60s and had to wear a stupid Tick Tock Diner outfit—a blue logoed polo shirt and a blue baseball cap. It seemed undignified for someone his age. All the other waiters were young men and women. There’s little doubt he does it for the money.
My dear mother, who is 73 years old, just had to quit her telemarketing job for health reasons. She claims she liked working because it got her out of the house. I’m sure there’s an element of truth to that, but the fact of the matter is that she has a tough time making ends meet on Social Security alone. I do what I can and send her some money every month but it still isn’t enough. What’s going to happen when all the aged Americans who need to work because they don’t have enough money to live on can’t work anymore? How did this happen in such a prosperous country?
I came out of the gym shower and saw a guy close my locker. I walked up and said, “What are you doing in my locker?” He said, “You lock was left open and I closed it for you.” “Thanks!,” I said. Three hours later I looked in my wallet and my credit card was gone. Mrs. Wife called the bank to cancel and over $1,000 had already been charged. I found all this out just minutes before the curtain went up. I spent the first :10 minutes of the play stewing in a deep, violent, hateful, very un-Zen like anger that I had been so incredibly stupid.
* * *
Before the play, I ate at the Tick Tock Diner on 8th Avenue and 34th St. It’s not really a diner. It’s a restaurant with a diner theme which is pretty lame, since there are plenty of authentic diners still around. My waiter was an old man who had no business waiting tables. He should be retired instead of grinding out a restaurant job. I felt just awful for him. He looked to be in his late 60s and had to wear a stupid Tick Tock Diner outfit—a blue logoed polo shirt and a blue baseball cap. It seemed undignified for someone his age. All the other waiters were young men and women. There’s little doubt he does it for the money.
My dear mother, who is 73 years old, just had to quit her telemarketing job for health reasons. She claims she liked working because it got her out of the house. I’m sure there’s an element of truth to that, but the fact of the matter is that she has a tough time making ends meet on Social Security alone. I do what I can and send her some money every month but it still isn’t enough. What’s going to happen when all the aged Americans who need to work because they don’t have enough money to live on can’t work anymore? How did this happen in such a prosperous country?
* * *
I came out of the gym shower and saw a guy close my locker. I walked up and said, “What are you doing in my locker?” He said, “You lock was left open and I closed it for you.” “Thanks!,” I said. Three hours later I looked in my wallet and my credit card was gone. Mrs. Wife called the bank to cancel and over $1,000 had already been charged. I found all this out just minutes before the curtain went up. I spent the first :10 minutes of the play stewing in a deep, violent, hateful, very un-Zen like anger that I had been so incredibly stupid.
posted by The Unbearable Banishment at
11:42 PM
4 Comments:
ouch. i'd have probably cried after having an elderly waiter... golden years my ass. i think most of the "greatest generation" were sort of lied to about that...
quadruple ouch on the wallet. makes you feel violated in a strange way to suffer theft. can you track the bastard down through the gym?
According to Wikipedia, Marlowe is often protrayed as gay but the evidence is sketchy at best.
My 76 year old mom still works but for the health insurance. The options are better than Medicare, depending.
You don't lock your locker? I have a padlock that I carry in my bag but I never take my purse into the gym anyway. Sucks though. Hope your c.card company has some sort of theft policy. But you are way too trusting, I would have checked my wallet before the person even walked away.
I just found out my 67 yo Mom got herself a part time job. It's a pre-Christmas gig at "The Bay" in the city where she lives. Mostly manual labour, unpacking clothes shipments and getting them out onto the floor.
She says she's tired all the time and her feet hurt (I asked and she did get new, better shoes).
I feel bad that she has to work but she's always had a champagne appetite on a beer budget. If she could learn to live within her means, she'd have a pretty good life.
*Sigh*
That credit card thing bites. I have been known to have visions of violence on those who perpetrate such deeds. "Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them."
want me to stick pins in a wax effigy?
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