Night at the Theatre

Ten minutes until show time. Her heart is racing as she walks briskly to the theater doors, South Pacific ticket in hand, silently cursing the fact that she can't run to get to the door faster, as dresses have a tendency to prevent such actions from taking place. A staff member checks her ticket and ushers her inside while another hands her playbill. The lobby is full of people, mostly elderly couples, all in their Sunday best, and it becomes increasingly difficult to maneuver through the crowds with each passing second. The five minute warning bell goes off and she start to panic. She quickly makes her way down the stairs to door number nine and her fears are instantly realized. Row K is full of people and her seat is right in the middle. She tries her best to grin and bear it, making her way past each person, taking great care to ensure that she doesn't trip or invade anyone's personal bubble. The relief she feels when she finally makes it to seat twenty-two is worth the panic of the last ten minutes. The lights dim, a hush comes over the crowd, and the orchestra begins its overture. The play is about to begin.

Watching a play is quite similar to reading a book. Like a book, one can easily travel to new worlds without ever leaving his or her seat. That's the whole point of such things as plays and books. It's about getting the reader, or in this case the audience, to lose his or herself in the story. It's about relating to the characters, feeling what they feel, and seeing the world as they see it, if only for a few short moments at a time. True art affects people in this way. Luckily, that's exactly what South Pacific seems to be doing to her. Perhaps it's Carmen Cusack's witty take on Ensign Nellie Forbush. Or maybe David Pittsinger's charming portrayal of Emile de Becque and his obvious background in opera does the trick. Either way, the audience is hooked. She's admittedly reluctant to snap back to reality during the intermission, but the Shirley Temple in her hand less than five minutes later proves otherwise. There's nothing like a bubbly, sweet drink to get one's mind back on track. The bell rings in the lobby, signaling that it is time to resume the performance. She quickly finds her seat and returns her focus to the stage. The lights dim once again and the audience reinserts itself into the story.

It's all over quicker than a flash. As the cast takes its final bow, people begin to rise out of their seats and clap. Soon, everyone is standing and cheering and the cast smiles brightly, knowing that the audience had a good time. Once she exits the building and makes her way through the crowded lobby, she manages to return to the car. As she goes, she can't help but want to jump right back into the story. It is an intense feeling. So lost was she in the world of South Pacific that she seemed to lose a part of herself when it was all over. It proves