“A Cat’s entitled to expect these evidences of respect” – T.S. Eliot
Wow! I’m excited about all the traffic on my blog today. Thanks for stopping by everyone!
I have just returned home from an eventful trip to the City to see one of my all-time favourite shows, Cats. This was my first time seeing it live, and although it was a low-budget and small-stage and all-Canadian production, it was still fantastic. If only I could say the same about the rest of my trip to the city.
The Country Style Employee Who Pissed Me Off
I ordered a lemonade. Does lemonade sound like iced coffee to you? Say it out loud, go on. Did it sound like “iced coffee”? No, it did not. And while I am not one to get angry about an incorrect order (God knows I’ve forgotten my own age let alone the things other people tell me), this encounter did grind my gears a little bit:
Country Style Employee – sets down an iced tea and an iced coffee
Me – “Um… I ordered lemonade.”
CSE – “What? No you didn’t, you said iced coffee. And I said, iced coffee? I said it back to you, and you said yes. You said iced coffee.”
Me – (deer in headlights)
Like, come on. I don’t care that she got my order wrong, but why not just pour me a lemonade and carry on with your day? Why go around blaming me for saying the wrong thing? UGH.
Anyway, then this supposedly deaf panhandler showed up.
Supposedly Deaf Panhandler
Here’s the thing about panhandlers: I honestly don’t have any cash on me. If I do have cash on me, I took it out at the bank for a specific purpose. So when they ask, I can honestly say that no, I cannot spare some change. Now, everyone has opinions on this, and it’s a whole discussion. But check this guy out:
Supposedly Deaf Panhandler – (shows sign saying that he is a supposedly deaf panhandler)
Me – “Uh, no, sorry, I don’t have anything.”
SDP – (Angrily gestures to my open purse then flips me off)
COME ON. I was still pissed off at CSE and concerned that she had spit in my lemonade so I may have taken this a little more offensively than I needed to, but seriously, just because I have a PURSE, it doesn’t mean it is brimming with cash. I mean, I paid for my $1.30 lemonade with Visa. My generation uses plastic for everything. In the future, panhandlers will need debit/credit machines.
Anyway, the hostility was all worth it for the show. I finally completed my lifelong goal of getting a CATS shirt with eyes on the back, which is worth getting flipped off by a panhandler in my opinion.
I’m a big fan of musicals. I’ve seen a fair few of them, notably: JC Superstar, Fiddler, Phantom, Les Mis, Chicago, Sound of Music, Lion King, LOTR, The Music Man, Evita, West Side Story, We Will Rock You… There are more but I can’t think of them right now. Point is, I love live musicals more than the average bear. And the entire reason I love musicals is because one day, when I was little, my mom taped the movie version of CATS for us. We used to watch it over and over, fast-forwarding through the PBS “beggers” as we called them asking for donations to get to the show. I have almost all of the songs memorized. I mean, I can actually recite The Naming of Cats:
“The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey–
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter–
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover–
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.” – T.S. Eliot