Ever since I was a little girl was lucky enough to see “Annie” on Broadway, I wanted to be Annie. I had an Annie doll. I had the piano book for the score. I had the record, then the tape and then even the CD. I had every lyric memorized (practically still do).
Alas, it wasn’t to be. I was never Annie and didn’t even get to be one of the orphans. But I still love to go to the musical when it comes to town. Usually we end up paying an exorbitant price for seats, even with managing to avoid the Ticketmaster fees by having Rob stop at the box office. This time, I used the now convenient IBM Group Rate; in the past, I had to GO to IBM to get it, and I *don’t* know where IBM is.
So our seats were less than stellar. And the rows behind us filled in with busloads of kids who had just come from some “Youth Theater” convention. And who were really rowdy. Not only did they kick the seats, drop aluminum soda bottles, crunch their popcorn and crinkle their candy wrappers (people, it’s the Fox, not the movies), but these kids had the nerve to SING ALONG! Seriously, I came to hear the actors up on the stage. Not you. And believe me, it took a lot for ME not to sing along. But I respectfully stayed quiet.
And then, to top it off, Mrs. Greer flubbed her line. I almost fainted. I felt like an OCD type person when something is not aligned properly (oh, wait). It was all I could do to not stand up and SHOUT: “It’s not ‘Bubbles no soap I think.”; it’s ‘Soap no bubbles I think.”!!
Thankfully, my girls didn’t mind the distractions and loved the show. And the time-period and characters of the musical were a nice complement to our trip to FDR’s Little White House earlier in the day too.
