When is a Spire Not a Spire?

The design and construction of the new World Trade Center complex in New York City has interested me since the early presentations of conceptual proposals, not just because of the horrific events which made a new complex necessary, but because so seldom do we get to see projects of such grand and expensive proportions undertaken in crowded major cities. After the initial, bland ideas were rejected, the winning proposal of the subsequent international competition, created by the architect who would become responsible for the eventual Master Plan of the complex, Daniel Libeskind, featured a rising, spiraling cascade of towers peaking at the highest point with a spire reaching to the symbolic measurement of 1776'.

Original Libeskind Proposal

While the eventual designs went through many revisions, and individual architects were chosen to design the towers themselves, with Libeskind still dictating the basic design outline, the main hard point that was never dislodged was that crowning height that alluded to the American Revolution.

Fast-forward many years, many billions, many political fights, many NYPD mandated changes, and many construction delays later and two of the four proposed towers are nearing completion.  4 World Trade Center, the shortest in height (though still very tall by the standards of most cities) opens this November and 1 WTC, formerly the jingoistic "Freedom Tower," has topped out, with most of the remaining unfinished work in the interior spaces.

Of all the towers of the new site, 1WTC is the one saddled with the most responsibility to honor the past while pointing to the future - an unenviable task for any building. Penned by David Childs of SOM, the clean and simple glassy design has been derided as bland, non world-class and "something that would look right at home in Dallas," by numerous architectural snobs, but such a broad dismissal of it overlooks some of its more ingenious details. The basic shape of the building is square, as were the original Twin Towers, and comes within a few feet of matching their perimeter dimensions. Height to the top manages to honor both the original 1 and 2 WTC by matching the measurement of the first to the roof and the second to the glass parapet that extends up a bit to mask rooftop mechanical equipment.

When viewed directly from north, south, east or west, the tower appears a towering straight rectangle, presenting an eerie ghost image of one of the fallen twins. From an angle, however, you discover an entirely different shape, as the chamfered, or shaved-off corners of the rectangle angle back to give the shape a tapering elegance that seems to increase its height. Childs has stated that the inspiration for this angling came from the similarly shaved corners of the original towers, whose aluminum alloy-clad brightness grabbed sunlight and presented an almost illuminated vertical line on the edges, which was particularly noticeable in early morning and late afternoon.

Dramatic Illumination - photo by kruytflo

Taken to a much more dramatic level on the new 1WTC, the gigantic triangular shapes covered in highly reflective glass produce a visually arresting, almost blinding beam of illumination under similar lighting conditions which stand out as the largest and brightest eye grabber in all the wonders of Manhattan. Dramatic, powerful and inspiring.

So Childs managed to both salute the Twins and provide optimism for the future in his design, but there was that non-negotiable matter of the 1776' height that still had to be satisfied. His solution was a 408' spire extending from the roof, which which would replace the broadcast mast destroyed on 9/11/01, but also create a visual pinnacle that would pull the eye far higher than the originals ever could.

Being a smart, experienced architect with a well-developed aesthetic sense, Childs wasn't going to leave the mast bare, so he envisioned a fiberglass radome covering for the antenna, created in collaboration with sculptor Kenneth Snelson, which would not only provide some protection from wind loads and the elements for the broadcasting equipment, but be a striking visual symbol of grace rising above the city.

The complex, topped by a giant joint

Formed of interlocking white triangles which mimick the tower's main corners, the piece had a curved taper from base to tip which almost suggested a rocket ship, or frankly, a gigantic marijuana joint.  Whether or not one was 100% in love with the final design, it did provide the needed visual heft to make such a tall appendage look in proportion to the rest of the building. The look was cohesive, if hard to judge completely by renderings alone, and its artistic intent was clear.

During the course of the aforementioned construction delays and cost overruns, the Port Authority, owners of the original complex and builders of the new, brought in the Durst development organization as a way to inject some cash into the project. With rights to manage and lease the building, the firm was also given a financial incentive to save costs in the over-budget project wherever they could find them. Unfortunately for the city and the country, what drifted into the crosshairs of their bean counting was none other than Mighty Joint - the spire.

Original spire design and internal structure

The fabrication and installation cost of the radome covering was projected to be $20 million. This seems like a lot until you realize the entire building was already looking at a tab of over $3 billion. Nevertheless, Durst took an axe to the covering and stripped the spire to its skeletal erector set innards, which were designed to be highly functional, but were never supposed to see the light of day. The supposed reason for the removal was not money, but that the panels "would be too hard to maintain," a point disputed by the architects - you know the ones who have designed the VAST MAJORITY of supertall buildings for decades. As a weak sauce replacement for the lost aesthetic element, the firm proudly pronounced that bare, galvanized metal monstrosity would be brightly lit with color-changing LEDs at night, because, hey, EVERYTHING looks better when lit with LEDs!

Now, in theory, you could spotlight a curly turd in the bowl with rainbow colors and it would look less offensive, but what happens during the bright light of day, when spotlights won't show? Looks like a turd.

In a somewhat insulting and incongruous gesture, they left in place the crowning tip of the original spire design, a faceted stainless steel point which houses the FAA warning lights and also a powerful, twin-beam rotating white beacon, designed to cast horizontal swaths over the city and beyond as a powerful symbol of hope and protection. While the highly reflective pointy tip would have looked very much a part of the overall original design, left in place atop the bare bones beneath it as it is now, it looks comically like the Wonakavator, from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I love that movie, but come on, THIS is the best symbol the country can produce?

Wonkavator

The spindly monstrosity looks ridiculous in its current state, too thin for its height and accessorized with periodic bare work platforms, complete with safety railings, whose outer edges still hold true to the angular radome shape the public will never get to see. When viewed in conjunction with the circular dish platforms below, always a part of the design, the whole construction looks like a dull gray ray gun out of Flash Gordon. It also reduces the perceived height, as its dark finish and skinny profile can get easily lost against the sky. Not exactly the strong statement that many had been expecting.

Some people have defended this colossal mess, arguing that Mighty Joint was too fat in the first place and the raw nature of what is there now, with all its visible welds, bolts and now-useless mounting flanges, is wonderfully industrial and so in keeping with the gritty nature of New York. While I admire their skill at creating a silk sow's ear purse, this position is preposterous. I like the industrial look as much as anyone, and it can often add great texture and character, but plopping that approach on top of a 1300' obelisk of smooth glass and carefully sculpted stainless steel edging and saying it effectively completes the look makes you a candidate for the rubber room.

Seriously?!

The one bright spot in this is mess is that the whole charade may blow up in Durst's face, as there is a real possibility that the Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitats, a respected organization who is considered the final say on official skyscraper height, and which has very strict rules about what is the measurable tip of a building, may take an axe to the trumpeted total height.. It turns out that a spire, structural and architecturally integral and essential to the design of a building is counted. An antenna mast is not. SOM knew this, and so took extra pains to make sure that what got stuck on the top was essential to the look of the building, and would hit the mandated height target. The feeling is that Durst will argue that the Wonkavator at the tip is a designed piece and so they are still hitting the height. Childs disagrees, and in a rare instance of architect publicly criticizing his client, released a statement bemoaning the loss of the artistic radome and pledging assistance in designing an alternative. His offer was not taken. It would cost money.

So maybe the much-touted 1776' building is not really 1776'. Maybe the spire is not a spire. We'll know by the end of the year.

NOW they are Listening, or so they say...

JCPenney has now released a new web ad, which will be broadcast nationally soon, and specifically talks about something I mentioned earlier in detail: LISTENING.

Oh really...

It also features a symbolic break with the Ron Johnson era and return to their old logo, though it is now created with the new lower-case font used in the JCP/American Flag icon.

How Sage is That Green?

I know many people got some amusement from the following sentence I included in this post about JCPenney a few weeks ago:

The whole mess revolves around the modestly named Martha Stewart Living OMNIMEDIA having a supposedly "exclusive" contract with Macy's to sell her sage green bath towels, sage green cookware, sage green linens, sage green dishes and various other domestic items which may or may not be sage green, but most likely are.

Hearing that the "JCP Everyday," aka Martha Stewart But You're Not Supposed to Know That line of home goods is now on sale in their stores and online, I headed to the website to see just what had been the catalyst for this epic court battle.

I entered JCP EVERYDAY in the search field and, well, this is the very first item that came up:

Your honor, I rest my case!

Ballet Needs More Explosions

The basic recipe for a typical summer blockbuster movie is simple: one part story, three parts explosions set to dynamic orchestral music, one part stirring conclusion. Mix, bake and cash massive profits. For those of us who are fans or other entertainment, as well as movies, it has been difficult to watch cultural organizations who are brimming with talent often written off as museum pieces from an earlier era, too slow, plodding and married to the past to connect with the fast-paced demands of a modern audience.

Dance, symphony orchestra and full choir are performance arts that have been particularly hard-hit by the misperception, and some of it is due to a large part of their stock repertoires being, well old. As in powdered wig old. When reading a performance listing that includes Tchaikovsky, Bach or Orff, a good portion of the general public will make snoring noises and demand to hear some Jay-Z. Most of these same people have most likely never even heard any of the music by these "old" composers, much less understand how much power it can contain when presented creatively.

Creative is not a bunch of tuxedo-clad string musicians performing stiffly on stage.

Creative is not a choir concert with the only things moving being the conductor and mouths making "O" shapes.

Creative is not a ballet full of stiff choreography in starched period dress.

Creative IS what the Orlando Ballet and Bach Festival Society of Winter Park Choir and Orchestra have just presented for the past three days in a stunning collaboration of the elements - a summer blockbuster in the spring.

The groups started with the timeless cantata Carmina Burana by German composer Carl Orff, a piece that 9 out of 10 people on the street would say sounded stuffy and they have never heard, unless you showed them this, or this, or THIS. Oh THAT, the soundtrack for every ominous and dynamic commercial ever produced. Yes, the famous Oh Fortuna opening and closing sections of the piece, plus all the other meat contained between them, which varies from frenetic, to lyrical to haunting.

Unlike many people, I am somewhat familiar with the music from time spent involved with orchestras, drum corps and color guards, but all that was 25+ years ago, and even I had forgotten most of it until the Ballet and Bach Society forced it back into my head with a velvet sledgehammer.

The performance was in a word, EXPLOSIVE. The choreography was inventive, startling and extremely clever, with much of it being staged at breakneck speed, overflowing with death-defying pass-throughs and dizzying combination spins. This was Iron Man flying between buildings, but without the benefit of his suit.

Most impressive to me was the musicality of the writing. I am often frustrated when dance performances leave music "on the table," so to speak, with a lot of the phrasing and nuance steamrolled over to create a handful of impact moments. Here there were constant passages of delicate interpretation laid over deep foundations, beautifully mimicking the score as portrayed by the musicians and vocalists. In the ultimate compliment, the Ballet respected the magnitude of their effort by shining a visual spotlight on as many of their notes as they could. Suggestions of love, loss and conflict were hinted at just enough to be recognizable.

Mass forms often broke, changed, reformed, splintered apart and were suddenly struck with a sense of absence, leaving just a solo performer to alter the mood before they were swept away by another thematic movement sequence. Transitions, often a weak point in dance, were handled expertly and clarified by a beautifully designed palate of modern, simple costumes and colors. There was just enough. No excess. No shortage.

There was also a lot of skin, and no blockbuster has ever built up demerits for that.

Performers from all three elements, dance, instruments, and vocals worked expertly as team to manipulate the emotions of the audience, pushing, pulling and stringing them along, only to hit them with the bazooka blast of volume and visual cacophony at exactly the right moment. It was one of the strongest collaborations of disciplines that I've seen in a long time. And it was all performed live.

So I liked it, but I can be kind of a longhair (with a bald head), still, this was music written in the 1930's, before television, featuring violins and french horns, sung in German, French and TWO different forms of Latin, interpreted by dancers in tights and delicate slippers. This business is too mothball-infused for the modern world. How would an audience, whom appeared to contain a good number of husbands who were annoyed to miss the golf tournament, react?

By leaping to their feet and screaming before the final note had finished echoing in the livestock barn acoustics of the aged Bob Carr Center.

People went berserk - with shrieks and whistles piercing the air over a deafening, thunderous applause. And it went on, and on, and on. Loud for the corps de ballet, ear splitting for the principals, and an  EXTRA air horn level of volume for the choir and orchestra.

Men in pleated pants were whooping at the top of their lungs for baritones and oboe players.

For me it was more than a wonderful afternoon, it was a way forward for struggling cultural organizations. They had provided the story, the explosions and the exciting conclusion, and they had done it by doing what THEY do best. And it worked.

Let's see more of this sort of thing.

How Not to Win Friends and Influence People - What Just Happened at JCPenney

Even before now-former CEO Ron Johnson was shown the door by JCPenney this week, the drama involving the company, Macy's and Martha Stewart had caught my attention – I mean who doesn't like to hear Martha use the term "flabbergasted?" The whole mess revolves around the modestly named Martha Stewart Living OMNIMEDIA having a supposedly "exclusive" contract with Macy's to sell her sage green bath towels, sage green cookware, sage green linens, sage green dishes and various other domestic items which may or may not be sage green, but most likely are.

When Mr. Johnson was recruited from Apple, based on his seemingly amazing work creating their highly successful retail stores, to join Penney's, everyone's favorite source of beige and Mom Jeans, one of his first orders of business was to go after Martha to secure her and her products as the centerpiece for a revamped Home department. Her contract with Macy's? Pffft - no problem! After all he didn't read it and her lawyers felt that they could wiggle around its restrictions if she opened her own stores. The stores in this case would actually be INSIDE the JCPenney, but who worries about little details like that. Surely it would be its own shop, just like the Starbucks in Target is identical to any other Starbucks, even though you can't smell the coffee because of the overwhelming fumes of popcorn and hot dogs from the snack bar next door, nor enjoy the restful coffee house ambiance when the red-shirted managers are screaming for REGISTER BACKUP!! a few feet away.

Not surprisingly, Macy's was not impressed by this argument and used its deep pockets to call up an army of lawyers, whose first order of successful business was getting the judge to ban Penney's from putting in stores or online any of the warehouses full of Martha Stewart sage green items they had already ordered and produced.

What struck me in following all this, is that it seemed like a rather reckless path for this green (though not sage green) CEO to embark on. JCPenney was well-known to be a dowdy, frumpy, bland, plain, Ann Veal sort of an establishment, but it was also profitable. As it turns out, much to the chagrin of self-appointed tastemakers, there is a pretty huge market for bland. Large swaths of the country actually prefer it, so while not setting the balance sheets on fire, Penney's business was firmly in the black.

But Mr. Johnson came from Silicon Valley, where they don't listen to what you want, the tell you what you want and if you disagree, well that's just because you didn't KNOW you want it. Now that attitude can usually work pretty well in the tech industry as no, you probably didn't know you wanted an iPod because you couldn't have dreamed that something more portable than your Discman could possibly exist. But most of what Penney's sells does exist. Underwear exists. Blouses exist. Shoppers, especially women shoppers, may just have developed a preference for the style of bloomers they prefer, or the cut of cabana-wear blouse they find most flattering. If they have been shopping at JCPenney for a while, chances are the chain has kept them well-satisfied in both areas. No doubt some fresh air was needed to attract a supplemental new wave of shoppers, but the stores were already kept humming with loyalists.

It would seem a sensible path would be to enhance what you have while looking to broaden and expand styles, right? NO! said Ron Johnson. Everything was thrown out - the pricing structure, the coupon system, the frequent sales, and FOUR HUNDRED product lines that the stores had carried for years, if not decades. There was the recklessness again, joined by arrogance and a lot of talking, but with one big thing missing:

Listening

In various leadership roles I have had over the years, the thing I learned right away is what you say is not as important as what you hear. Your first order of business is to listen to your people. You can have all sorts of sweeping ideas and strategies in mind, but until you listen to what people say, you will have no clue of what they find important or insights which would give you the tools to bring them along with you on your vision quest. If you dictate or turn a deaf ear to their concerns, you're going to get nowhere fast. You're the boss, you ultimately have the final say, but if those in your charge feel their concerns are not your concerns, you will be fighting upstream against their dissension the entire time, seriously dampening your potential success.

By many accounts, Ron Johnson, in addition to continuing to live in California, rather than move his home to the Dallas-area base of Penney's, might as well have been in a soundproof booth. He went full-steam ahead in throwing out customer favorites and replacing them with hipper styles which were perhaps not too forgiving to the full figure silhouettes of the core shoppers. When people found the new, no-sales pricing to be confusing and felt they were not really getting the value that was advertised, he told them they just needed to learn the system. He said he was going to "retrain women how to shop."

This reminded me of an experience his former company had a while back when it stopped listening to its customers as well. Remember Apple Maps? "You don't need accuracy, Streetview and transit information because we're giving you flyover 3D cities that look totally cool!" Do you know anyone who didn't replace that app with the Google one the moment it came out? Apple is still reeling from it.

Oh boy.

Well, all this definitely did lead to some records being set. JCPenney, a 111-year old company, saw quarterly sales drop nearly 30%. That level of loss had never even been approached before, and is quite an achievement when you think of how difficult it is for an established organization of that size to pull something like that off in the matter of a few months. Funny what happens when you tell your most loyal supporters that they are too fat and too dumpy to shop there.

Why have I found this whole thing so interesting and maddening the past week? It wasn't just customers who were told they weren't wanted while one man selfishly used a historic company as his playpen. The drop in sales caused 20,000 employees to be laid off since he started on the job 17 months ago. TWENTY THOUSAND people shown the door and facing hardship during challenging economic times. No doubt a chunk of them were associates who would greet your question with a vacant stare, but surely many were good workers with years of service, many from smaller areas where they had longtime connections with customers. Customers who didn't show up anymore because of one guy's insistence on speaking instead of listening.

"Youth Has Nothing to do with Age".....uh...wtf?

Originally published May 12, 2007

Low Wattage Youth - the Musical

I was given some tix to Electric Youth, the new musical based on the music of Debbie (Deborah) Gibson. Felt it would be a memorable evening, no matter how the show was, and boy howdy was it!

The show was..wow...well, it was...what can I say, I loved it, but not probably the way the creator intended. Her music is still good. I saw her in college and was shocked to find she was really talented. Great singer and I particularly remember her sitting and singing at the piano, and you could tell the girl had some chops.

This musical seems to be made in the general mold of Mama Mia, where these songs are used and a story is constructed around them. However, this show is not Mama Mia..the end result is more like a forced marriage between Footloose and Andy Hardy movies from the 40's. "Come on kids, let's save the barn, and the town."

Barn? Town? Place for Kids to Dance? HUH???? What year is this?

There was a villianess - a bizarre cross between Cruella De Ville and Patty Sheehan. There was snakey nephew of the villaness (also our waiter, who came back to see if we tipped him)
There were some homespun heroes.

There was a line.."what are you going to do...grrrroooowww more wheat??" which got a huge uproarious reaction from the creator's table, but everyone else sat looking puzzled.

There was some inconsistent singing.

There was a disturbing scene involving interpretive dance and something akin to a mob about to destroy Frankenstein, while wielding screwdrivers.

There was a faux lesbian sister in plaid and overalls.

There were gratuitous Wizard of Oz side jokes

There was an amazingly complicated wrap up of all complications in the story, taking place in roughly two minutes, that seemed to pull largely from a Price Waterhouse financial analyst's manual.

There was a dance lift that clunked back to earth, complete with extended pantie shot.

It was MAGIC!

My friend Chris and I were having giggle fits throughout the whole thing. During the Pantie Lift, I became convulsed and almost had to leave. Not just anyone can appreciate such genius. His boyfriend Rob was less impressed, but a good sport. We were enthralled!

To top it all off, "to meet popular demand," Deborah HERSELF was in attendance. She was there for the opening night and wasn't supposed to be back. WELL the masses spoke, and here she was again. She would be taking pictures and signing autographs...it would be the perfect ending to our night!

The masses tonight must not have been as impressed as those at the opening, as a good portion of them left at the intermission.

Those of use who stuck around for the Shake Your Love dance number in the second act, apparently learned with numbered shoe prints stuck on the floor, were not disappointed. After a longish wait in the overheated lobby, we were allowed to enter a secondary room. What would lie behind the door? I was convinced it would be red velvet, gilt chairs and plush rugs, with manservants holding large fans.

I was partially right...there was a worn red velvet curtain and the room smelled vaguely of armpit, which could have come from the manservants.

Rob had his cel phone, so Chris and I each got a pic, and autographed programs. Deborah was so nice, and we had a hard act to follow, as a middle-aged woman in front of us gushed breathlessly about how the show was so wonderful, full of hope and uplifting messages, and how she had spent hours and hours dancing around her room to young Debbie's music.

Unable to top that, I just told her I saw her at Astroworld when I had hair.

That's Four Too Many in that Dress

Here's one from 2008:


Today, a companion and I attended the worst play I've seen since Electric Youth, the Musical.

That has become the gold standard for unintentionally hilarious bad theater, so achieving those heights and being awarded a Debbie is a high honor indeed.

Today's production: Five Women in the Same Dress, as presented by Valencia East Campus.

Awards: 3 Debbies

- Writing

- Acting

- Audience Participation

So the premise of this show is five bridesmaids in a "present day suburb of Knoxville, TN" sit around in one girl's bedroom and bitch. It seemed a decent setup for comedy and there was actually some fun dialogue, but the delivery - eesh.

The best role was the "sassy" girl who was sort of counterculture and bitter. She had a lot of good sarcastic retorts, but they were all sort of delivered with the stage presence of overcooked spaghetti. I was pissed cuz I could have rocked that part! She had some zingers! lol

Sadly, she was the best performer. Other highlights included a rendition of a southern accent that sounded like every sentence was ending in a question. Like "this one time and band camppppp.."

Not to worry, because when the goings-on on stage disappointed, the audience came through. 



1. I Can't Stop Smiling

There was a woman sitting by herself on stage right who could only be described as being "in rapture." She sat at the front edge of her seat sporting a maniacal grin of joy like Charles Gateau in Assassins, and produced a hysterical outburst of laughter at even the slightest hint of humor. I thought she was going to be swept away on a wave of ecstasy, like a Whirling Dervish or something.

No doubt she was one of the following, or maybe more than one:

A. The parent of one of the actresses

B. The parent of the director

C. The Director


2. Just Cuz I'm Old Don't Mean I Don't like a Good F*ck Joke!

An elderly woman with her daughter, son-in law and granddaughter were near us. The show starts with knocking on the door, to which this woman responded, in a not too soft voice "COME IN!!"

More knocking on stage again.

Elderly audience member "COME IN!!"

Oh my. lol

Her granddaughter sort of slumped down.

Now, this show was full of foul language. Not just a sprinkling for effect, but I mean everywhere, constantly. These bridesmaids could make a longshoreman blush.

One told a tale of illicit sex behind the garbage dumpster in a parking lot, with someone else's fiance, filled with blistering four letter words. When she finished, the older lady laughed out in joy "AH HA HAH!"

Damn. Granny got it goin' on.


3. We Need a Little Christmas. Right This Very Minute

Somewhere during the first act, I detected the sound of jingle bells coming from somewhere behind me. JING JING...JING JING...JING JING....JING JING...

Wtf was that?!

JING JING... JING JING....JING JING...

I gradually turned my head to try to figure it out. In the back row sat a woman fanning herself with her program, while wearing a gigantic charm bracelet! It went on forever, and her companions didn't point out that the sound of her bracelet was echoing off the walls. This was uncontrollable giggle fit 1 for me.


4. I Didn't Need That Lung Anyway

Some late attendees came in after the show started and sat right next to me. One was an older african american woman with a gigantic mound of fake Beyonce-style hair. Fierce! She carried a jacket, which she immediately begin putting on upon sitting, which resulted in much stretching of arms in my direction.

She what could best be described as a "loose cough," that sounded like her spleen was dribbling down a basketball court each time she cleared her throat. During the second act, she had a fit, coughing and choking with noises last heard when the bilge tanks were being cleared on the Queen Mary. I started to giggle, then clamped my teeth shut while my whole chair shook. My eyes watered. I gasped for air. I was about to completely lose it and then she got up and left. Whew. I was about 5 seconds from a laughter outburst.

During Intermission we partook of some refreshments at a table in the lobby. My friend went back to get some cheezy-peanut butter crackers from the student attendant, who had now turned the other way and was engrossed in conversation. He held out the dollar to her for about 20 seconds and someone else finally noticed he was standing there. This girls' head whipped around and she stared at him and his outstretched dollar like he was handing her a fresh turd. It was amazingly bizarre. Joan Crawford could not have looked more intimidating if she was staring down a wire hanger. Huh? Weren't you supposed to give money for snacks? Insanity!


Act II - What Were We Watching Again?

Ok, the first act seemed to have basically no plot. It was five girls in bad dresses bitching and cussing. In Act II, however, either a different writer took over or the original one realized he had a lot of shiz to get in in a short time.

Suddenly, we got less bitching and in instead:

Child Abuse
All Gays Have AIDS
Sluts on Parade
Cocaine and Cheap Motel Sex Makes a Great First Date
Lesbians Run Wild
Bald Men Are Pyscho Killers
Male Wingtip Shoe Foot Fetish

WHAT?!!!

My friend turned to me at one point and asked, "is this the same play we were watching?" lol

It was hysterical.

Finally, it looked like things were wrapping up. In a scene that took about 3 years to develop, the girls were all attempting to pose on the bed for a photo. At a slight pause in the conversation, the stage lights went out.

And stayed out.

And scene.

The audience started clapping.

Then the lights came back on and they finished. The lighting tech had missed the cue and the show wasn't over. LOL

There was about 5 more minutes of setting up the photo and bland wrapup.

I told my friend they should have just left the lights out the first time.

LOL

Anyway, bad theater is good theater sometimes, so this was a pretty fun way to start the new year.

And scene.