You Can Smell the Giblet Gravy

Helaine, Steffie and I have decided to take a little getaway (this being the Internet, I won’t say when) to New York City. Part of the reason is to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary.

I made hotel reservations on Priceline. Right now, I have buyer’s remorse. Not that the Millennium Hotel – Broadway won’t be nice. The reviews I’ve read were great. I only saved $15 or $20 from the rack rate and then, when I asked for a rollaway bed for Steffie, was told that would be an extra $50 for the 2 nights.

I wonder if there would be that charge had I made my reservation directly? I have never ever paid for a rollaway bed and have never heard of anyone being charged for one before.

We decided we’d see two Broadway shows while in The City. I’m sure I love Broadway as much, maybe more, as any straight man in America. Hopeful, I’ve passed some of my love on to Steffie, who has seen many shows with me.

We chose Tennessee Williams “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” and a new play “Six Dance Lessons in Six Weeks” with Polly Bergen and Mark Hamil. SDLSW opened last night.

The New York Times was savage in its review which ran in this morning’s paper. This show is such a turkey that you can probably smell the giblet gravy as you enter the lobby. Let me just quote from the last paragraph:

Toward the end of Monday night’s performance, an elderly man in the front row collapsed, gasping for breath, and the Emergency Medical Service took him to a hospital, where he recovered. It turned out he had choked on a candy. Now that’s a metaphor.

We’d better find another show. This one won’t last until we get there.

This was originally written on a computer without access to a spell checker. I’ll try not to do that again. Ouch.