Sometimes you just can’t believe stuff. Like, for instance, when your parents get you a ticket to SEE THE ACTUAL PATTI LUPONE GIVE AN ACTUAL MASTER CLASS AT THE WALLIS ANNENBERG THEATER AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THIS WAS HAPPENING IN THE FIRST PLACE.
The big day came and I made my claim oh don’t take way the baby they…ahrem. Sorry. Sorry. Into the Woods. Sorry.
So, when the large day arrived I got ready for The Experience of a Lifetime. One of my favorite things ev is getting super dressed up and then going somewhere fabulous. So I put on my 24601 shirt and a lot of eyeliner.
My dear father (who seems to be kinda prominently featured in my Tales Of Life) drove me in his black Kia which had an old plantain chips bag on the floor which I tried not to touch with my foot. As we drove the unimaginable occurred. Actually, it was kind of imaginable. We got stopped by a police officer because No Talking On The Phone While Driving, Sir. That’s why. Who even knew that was a law, right? So my dad got a teensy bit upset and started doing what your parents, like, always do. Like seriously. He started saying slang words in the place of swear words.
TIMES THIS HAPPENED TO ME:
When that guy almost hit my mom’s car when she was lost (which she wasn’t that happy about) and she gave him an EXTREMLEY passive-aggressive thumbs-up. Did she want to do something else? Yes.
When my dad banged his car into part of our drive way and he said SHOOT a lot of times. Did he want to say something else?
When my dad banged his car into a curb at that super-market and got a flat tire and he said DARN, DARN, SHOOT, FREAK, FREAK, FREAK, FREAKING SHOOT. Did he want to say something else?
To all the loving parents out there: Thanks.
My dad frowned and said SHOOT FREAK SHOOT DARN and then he said: “Sorry, Lil, I just don’t want you to be late.” And I said: “I hope you don’t get a ticket because that would be horrible and sad, mainly because I would few obligated to you because you were bringing me to see Patti Lupone when you got it.”
My dad nodded and ate a plantain chip and then choked on it and the police guy handed him a ticket. Earlier my dad had tried the OTHER PLAN, which is when people tell the police officer they were on the phone for a serious emergency. Our emergency was my mother calling because we were out of butter and she needed to bake some cookies for our mildly irritating neighbor, Carl because he mostly eats Chinese take-out which is obviously not very nutritious. My dad glossed over those details, obviously.
Anyway, we drove away, ticket in glove compartment. My dad had calmed down and Meadowlark started playing on the radio. INFO: one of Patti’s big songs.
As we drove through TOURIST HOLLYWOOD I smiled at The Pig and Whistle. I played “Falling Slowly” there once on a broken piano after the manager guy said something mildly rude in a Boston accent.
Finally we got to the Wallis Annenberg Theater.
Did it look fabulous?
Was I thrilled?
My dad parked and walked me in. There was a line but they finally took my ticket. I went down to MY SEAT IN THE VERY FRONT ROW WHICH I COULD TOUCH THE STAGE FROM WITH MY FOOT. There were two older English gentleman behind me who’s conversation was this.
“I think I see Patti.”
“Where’s Patti going to sit?”
“I rather wonder, old chap.”
“Yes, me too, old chap.”
“Well, I guess right there, old chap.”
“Wh- oh, yes, rather, old chap.”
I studied my program and thought deeply about life. Behind me were also three really cute gay boys, pretty much my exact age, and I really wanted to talk to them. My thought process was: If they see my 24601 shirt they’ll know I like musicals and presumably they do too since they’re here to see a Patti Lupone MASTER’S CLASS (OMG, OMG I’M AT A PATTI LUPONE MASTER’S CLASS) and then they will probably accept me into their HIP THEATER CLAN and that would be a dream come TRUE.
24601 shirts make you think in caps, apparently.
The lights dimmed right about then, though. So too bad. The leader of the Wallis Annenberg announced the show. He introduced the six students Patti Lupone would be mentoring. The students came on stage.
AND THEN PATTI LUPONE HERSELF ENTERED THE ROOM.
I am not even kidding.
Patti Lupone was at AN ACTUAL PATTI LUPONE MASTER’S CLASS. THE ACTUAL ONE!
I giggled nervously to myself and beamed with a fabulous amount of joy. She looked like you always imagined Patti Lupone to look. That is my only description. She walked off the stage, into the audience, and sat down. On the opposite side of the theater from me and my new best friends. I choked and calmed myself. It was good, it was fine. I was okay. I could still see mostly see her. Plus, legends are literally free to sit in the audience if they want. Seriously.
Patti mentored the six budding young students from across California. They were really great, actually. And Patti Lupone did a great job, in my opinion. I took notes as she talked (were the boys behind me taking notes? Yes. Did they give me the idea? Yes. Was I only taking notes because they were? Er-) and what really stood out to me was that she said to Read The Lyrics and Don’t Be Afraid To Change The Key Of The Song. I was thrilled about the changing the key part because I sometimes feel like songs are way too high and then I’m scared and don’t sing them. But Patti Lupone had some fabulous advice on that issue.
Thank you, Patti.
Anyhoo, after the show I left the auditorium, with joy. I bumped into the three boys in the lobby but I don’t think they noticed my shirt. Sadly. So anyway, I went and waited for a while near a door where I thought Patti Lupone might exit.
So I left. My dad took a picture of me in the lobby.
I wanted to meet Patti Lupone and have her sign my Evita music but I still had fun. I literally did. Love you all!