Life lesson learned. When one has a much-anticipated date to sit with a dear friend in an uncomfortable theater seat, in the middle of the row of a warm, packed theater, do not, I repeat, DO NOT stay up until 04:30 the morning prior to the date. I got to watch An American in Paris for the first time in my life, live with an outstanding cast, and near the end of the first act, I was so tired and in so much pain for having missed some of my pills that morning, that I was doing touch and goes. My eyeballs were dancing in my head, and the beautiful ballet scenes were wavering in my vision. A couple of times, things got really weird, as I started to slip into the early phases of dream state, and I felt my head nod forward repeatedly. I had to push my way out at intermission, and get a coffee with which to take a pain pill, and then I was able to be slightly more alert while also feeling less fidgety. I focused on the stage a little better, and got the full effect of how incredible the dancers were, and how much I loved the costuming and singing. I don't know how I managed to go this many years without seeing this musical. It was wonderful. Excuse me, that isn't the proper way to say it. "S'wonderful!" There, that's better.
I love these outings with my BFF. She has been a subscriber to the Buell Theater for years, and we've seen several fantastic shows together. But this year she is wondering whether renewing the subscription is worth it. There are only a couple shows in next year's package that she really wants to see, and she is having a hard time convincing her tween daughter to attend with her. I need time to think things over before I commit, but I have asked her not to give up the subscription just yet. If I buy one of the two season tickets, maybe she will feel like it's more worth her while. She'll have someone (me) dedicated to attending with her (unless, of course, BFF Jr wants to go see something like Aladdin, which is coming next year). Hopefully she won't feel like she's throwing away money, if her investment is cut in half. The seats she has are great. They are the first row of that particular price tier. The ones directly in front of us are a higher price. She's had them for years, and giving up that sort of seniority is dangerous if the 2018-19 season is a knockout and she wants back in. We have to decide a month from tomorrow if we want to guarantee we'll get tickets to see Hamilton. I'm pretty sure I want to do this, but I just need to think about it for a week.
When we go into Denver, we take the train in from the suburbs to downtown. We took a later train than usual today, and had to hurry to make it through Modern Market for lunch before the curtain this afternoon. We had a little more time to get back to Union Station after the show, but decided to hop the mall shuttle so we could get a break from the rather brisk breeze downtown. While waiting for the bus doors to open, some man stumbled right in front of me and slowly toppled to the pavement. At first I wasn't sure what happened, whether he was pushed or did I bump him or what. Then as he rolled around oddly, we realized he was massively intoxicated. I felt weird moving away from him and getting onto the shuttle, like I was shirking a duty somehow. But was I obligated to help a drunk/high man who was much too large for me to lift just because I happened to be one of the people he fell against? I haven't been able to shake the feeling of error ever since. I couldn't have done anything other than try to pull him to standing, and knowing my condition, I most likely would have found myself injured had he pulled me over in the process. He was so dazed, I'm not sure I should have done so in the first place, in case he was in no condition to stand back up. So why do I have such guilt? Why do I feel like I specifically let him down? Why can I not get past this tiny incident? I really don't know what to think about it all.
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