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Buried Child with Ed Harris and Amy Madigan

2/28/16 20:59 Home

Finding a good deal in New York City is not difficult.  It takes a little will power and luck.  Last night was one of those nights.  I bought two $25 tickets (partial view) for the Sam Shepherd play Buried Child which stars Ed Harris and Amy Madigan at the Signature Theater which is on West 42nd, we passed the follies and the tepid tourists who are searching for that ring.  That thing.  I saw a few pose for pictures with the waxed pope in front of Madame Toussaint’s museum.  Music played, hips swayed, ancient bodies scrapped their feet on the winter sidewalk.  Ali and I made our way through the crowd.  Through the neon light which reflected off glass and into our eyes and stained our clothes for an instant.  We had a parking coupon for $25 at a garage which was mere blocks away from the theatre, but they were full to capacity when we tried to get in.  The kid at the garage told us parking was free on the streets starting at 7 PM.  In nine minutes you can park on the side.  I wasn’t going to park on the street especially that close to Times Square.  But I felt alright, not really calm, but alright.  Like I was in control.  We tried to find another garage, but couldn’t find one in the area where we were searching.  Still in control, but not as cocky.  Finally, I found a good spot on 41st, close to Bryant Park and the NY Library.  Parked the car.  I assumed I could swipe my card in the machine and get a coupon, even if it was after 7 PM.  Just for the assurance that my car was not going to get towed.  All the machines were turned off.  Ali checked her phone, twenty two minutes to walk to the theatre.  We got a move on.  Like I said we briskly walked through the condensed crowds and kept going, passing tourist shops, the food carts which simmered dry flesh on crisp sticks in smoke and arid pretzels which were coated with thick chunks of salt which have a tendency to fly back into my throat, gagging me for a second.  We made it.  Got inside.  It’s easier and faster to take the stairs the usher tells us.  He wanted to hear us moan down from the third landing and be sure we had a good sweat to take into the warm theater.  We made it.  Bathroom break.  Met Ali in the lobby and we bought a water and an Arnold Palmer thought I could have had a beer, made it inside.  Our seats were so close to the stage, and yes I was against the wall and no one was behind me.  There must be two hundred seats in the small theatre.  Ed Harris was on the stage and in character, although I thought it was an old man in the dim lights.  He watched a television which was resting on a metal milk crate.  The play began. I was in the presence of a master, actually two, Harris and Madigan were exceptional.  I was on the edge of my seat and looked at the man who sat next to Ali.  He would bite into his palm with excited energy or grind a finger deep into a nostril.  This freak was in his own world and I got back to watching the play.  It was disturbing and dark and yet rich with the universal appeal of exposing and tragic family secret.  I have waited years to see a Sam Shepherd play and was struck with the poetry.  I would like to see it again, this time on a full stage.  So, tickets, cheap.  Parking…free.  Dinner, was $9 for three hot dogs at Papaya Dog and we were back at Target at midnight to pick Emma Tess up after she got off her shift.  Not a bad night.

Thank you for reading this.


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