tiredThat meant that my afternoon was a little more flexible, since we'd have headed to the TKTS booth around 4ish, otherwise. I didn't know that I wanted to see a show on my own, so I did the logical thing, and marched to the Met. What's scary is that I found lots of exhibits I didn't recognize. Doesn't mean I hadn't seen them, but they were unfamiliar. And, as with most things at the Met, beautiful and fascinating.
They shoved me out the door - almost literally - at 5:25pm. Those guards really want to go home.
I felt like I might enjoy something light-hearted, so I hiked down to Times Square, and bought myself a ticket to Spamalot. Granted, I got there pretty late, so I ended up about two thirds of the way up the balcony (literally above the clouds. They have a flock of little fluffy Terry Gilliam clouds above the stage. I was sitting well above them).
A wonderfully wacky show. Clay Aiken actually did a damn fine job of playing Brave Sir Robin - including a line about becoming "the idol of the age".
There were a number of places where they deviated from the cast album a bit to update the references. They even threw in an Eliot Spitzer joke that to all appearances left Arthur not quite sure what to say.
A lot of fun.
After the show, I dropped by Junior's again for what was supposed to be a comparatively light meal of a sandwich and a slice of cheesecake. I forgot exactly how much meat they put in their sandwiches...
And then I crawled back to the apartment. That was about 12:30am. Then I watched a couple more episodes of Project Runway with Debbie, did some of the usual relatively useless surfing, and am trying to get this done before I collapse in a heap.
Good night.
