Defying expectations [ February 05, 2006, 12:43 am ]

"I don't CARE if we get tickets or not. This play seems over-rated; the songs are CRAP."

The people around me gaped. A couple gasped. I suddenly felt a little bad. Then I remembered that my stomach was eating itself out of hunger and I really didn't care if we got tickets because this was just prolonging my hunger. "Yeah, I said it. I just dissed the play we're trying to win tickets for."

Joe had played me some songs from Wicked a year ago. He claimed that I HAD TO listen to the soundtrack because it was "amazing." Half-way through "Defying Gravity" I hit the stop button. "This is CRAP! It sounds cheesy to me! I think my ears are bleeding." I honestly couldn't figure out WHY people were falling in love with this musical--the music wasn't anything to write home about, the lyrics didn't move me and the story seemed tepid, at the most.

Yet, when we went to Chicago, Joe begged me to try for tickets to Wicked. There's a process where people can put their name into a drawing to win front-row tickets for $25. I wouldn't have paid more than that to see something I wasn't crazy about, but Joe really wanted to, so I figured it couldn't hurt.

On Friday night, we put our names into the witch's hat. So did about a hundred other people. The third floor of Borders (located next to the theater where Wicked was playing and where the drawing was held on weekends) was packed with hopeful people, ready and willing to fork over cash to see a musical about the Wicked Witch of Oz. I just wanted to go to the House of Blues. I wasn't crying when our names weren't called. I wanted to get my drink on.

The next night, we tried again. Our Chicagoan friend Ed accompanied us. He'd put his name into the witch's hat on several occassions and won. Joe was hoping his luck would rub off on us. Again, the crowd was thick with hopefuls. The feeling was electric and a bit addictive. I felt myself hoping to hear my name, if only to smirk that I won over the other hopefuls. Seven names were called, none of them ours. Then..."Ed F...are you here, Ed?" Joe shrieked. Ed looked confused. "I won...AGAIN?" Joe squealed. The ladies behind us shot us dirty looks.

As Ed went up to claim his prize, Joe looked at me. "WE'RE GOING TO SEE WICKED!!!"

Well. I was going to see a musical. Granted it was one that I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to see. But it was a musical. (We all know I'm a sucker for musicals.) It was entertainment and it was the big-ticket thing to see in Chicago. I had bragging rights. Joe had bragging rights. The obvious thing to do was call all of our friends about our luck. Which we did. "Guess what? WE'RE GOING TO SEE WICKED!!" "Oh, you're at dinner. Well Krissy and I aren't at dinner because WE'VE GOT TICKETS TO WICKED." Half of the homosexuals in the Detroit area wanted to murder us half an hour after we'd found out our luck. I grew giddier by the minute.

I went from apathy to excitement when I saw the tickets: front row, near center. It only grew as Joe and I waltzed down the aisle to find our seats. As we walked, we heard people talking about how they'd been waiting to see this for months. Hell, Joe had waited to see this for months. "I know you'll like it, Krissy. It's a musical, for fuck's sake. I want to share this with you--I KNOW you'll enjoy it."

There are rare occasions when I'll actually admit that I'm wrong. I'm prideful, I'm vain, I have the goddess complex where I'm NEVER wrong. This is one of those rare times. Joe was right, I was wrong.

From the opening notes of the overture, I was captivated. The scenery, the characters, the staging, the costumes and yes, even the music--it was amazing. It's what a musical should be: packed with production numbers, full of sweeping scenery and a script that delivers memorable, relatable characters that people want to cheer for, as well as a plot that captures you from the opening lines.

I cried, I laughed, I cheered, I was dazzled. I am officially under Wicked's spell.

I can't say that I'm officially a hard-core fan. (I won't say I'd never be. But really--what makes a hard-core Broadway play fan??) I'd see it multiple times because it's beautifully executed and acted. It's fun and refreshing; it's not life-altering in any way (unlike my favorite musical, which I won't mention because I talk about it so much that it induces groans from certain people). Which may be why I like it. It's like bubble gum. Sometimes you just need a sugar rush in your life. And I'd like to thank Joe for giving me that little jolt of sugar. It feels wicked, love.

Ciao, dahling!

~*Krissy*~

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