I wanted to see “Chicago” very much, so I made phone calls to several people trying to organize something. Krister and Amber agreed to see the show with me, and he headed downtown to try to buy half-price tickets 2 hours before showtime. It was sold-out. WHAT?! This was the 7th performance, and it had been sold out since last Wednesday. Dejected, Krister met me at the mall, where I had just gotten a haircut. I know, it sounds rather mean to make him to the dirty work, but it really was for everyone’s good.
You see, my hair had begun to develop an “early mullet.” So promptly after work, I ran over to the haircut place in the mall, where I got it cut. The hairstylist at first seemed to be a bitch, and at the end, I realized that this was fairly accurate. The important thing is that she was cute, my age, a free-spirit (was from Oklahoma, but ended up in Wichita via a random roadtrip), and cut my hair in 10 minutes.
Krister, Amber and I managed to rush downtown in time for the ticket lottery at 6:30pm, in which several hundred people wait and listen for their numbers to be called. Number 005 was not lucky at all, leaving us to wait 40 minutes with no tickets. We did meet an older man, who I will now discuss.
This man was nice enough, waiting along with the rest of us for extra tickets. He stayed until the very end, hopeful that he would be able to see the show. He was eventually given the chance to purchase a $34 ticket (a good deal), but he desperately told the ticket man that he had only $32, and that if the ticket man could loan him 2 dollars, he would buy the ticket. Amber felt really bad about it, so she handed him two dollars. The older man was ecstatic. He told us how he was a piano player at a hotel piano bar in Old Town, and that we could come there to collect our money. “I’ll buy you an Ovaltine, dear, but not everyone,” pointing to Krister and I. Ovaltine is, as everyone knows, expensive. But by this time, a crass middle-aged woman stepped in front of him and gobbled up the rest of the free tickets. The older man didn’t realize this until it had happened, and he seemed heartbroken. He gave us our money back, and we were getting ready to leave. But the older man stayed put, still not giving up hope. We handed him the two dollars again as we left, with him giving us numerous promises of visiting me at work the next day to give me my money back. Too bad it wasn’t my money, and too bad I won’t be working tomorrow. I hope he got in.
Defeated, I drove us around for a while, finally settling upon IHOP for food. Stuffed to the brim, we managed to make it back to Amber’s, where we watched TV and dozed. Thank you to both of you; we should do that more often.
Katie Ludlow called, and I met her and her boyfriend Rob at Starbucks. Over black iced tea, I enjoyed talking to both of them… we sat outside. I hadn’t seen her in such an awfully long time… what a mistake that was. What do I have to show for today besides words? Two photos:
Krister playing with his favorite toy. My hanger.
Haircut! What the crap am I doing?!
P.S. Krister, don’t worry about the older man saying the phrase “retarded old folks like me.” Even though you made fun of the elderly.