Performing at San Jose City Lights
Written by
Joe Orton
Directed by
TBD
Featuring
TBD
Showing
Thursdays through Sundays,
March 24 to April 23, 2005
Curtain
8 pm – Thursdays through Saturdays,
7 pm – Sundays
Tickets
Friday Preview: $17 Gen, $15 Sr, $13 St/Ed
Gala Opening: $28 Gen, $26 Sr, $26 St/Ed
Thurs/Sun: $20 Gen, $18 Sr, $13 St/Ed
Fri/Sat: $24 Gen, $22 Sr, $13 St/Ed
Group discounts are available; please call the Box Office for details.
"A comedy classic of English Literature!" -Sunday Telegraph
"It dazzles ... toying with words as if they were firecrackers!" -The New York Times
Meet Dr. Prentice, a psychiatrist whose attempts at extramarital seduction are blown off course by the unexpected arrival of his wife, who has just returned from a sexual whirlwind of her own. The not-so-good doctor's office soon becomes the center of a storm of confusion, accusations, and mistaken identities as the stingily literate husband and wife try to hide the paramours from one another. A dizzy comic tale of impropriety from the wicken pen of one of Britain's most infamous and highly-acclaimed playwrights.
PS. I get to be the Doctor!!!!
My carry-on is tucked neatly under the seat in front of me and the bag of overpriced gifts for the kids is wedged next to me on the seat .
802 5422 11mph west
Time speed alt
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811 380 14226
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811 406 15887
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So now we are airborne to the extreme. Amazing that within the flicker of the second hand we find our selves floating on resistant air, a hugely heavy pile of steal and plastic that like the bumble bee simple chooses to ignore the fact that there is no particularly good reason why it should not plummet to the ground.
And yet I seem to have lost the thrill of the event. Years of flying with my father in the military gave me a birds eye view of the earth from the age of six. Now the only time I get that unquestionable tingle in the pit of my stomach is when the pockets of air remind me that I am in fact floating at the mercy of nature and the trust in physics and an underpaid technician that makes sure the flaps are secure and the plane is in fact gassed up to go.
Our next contestant on the Charles Mckeithan show, is an unassumingly beautiful woman with an open air of comfort. She is probably in her mid thirties but at a glance would still be carded in the hotel bar. But only at a glance. A second look at her shows that she has seen a great deal of the world and carried the burdens of others on her shoulders. The evidence is not physical. Her skin is smooth and her smile is unmarred by the failures of elasticity. But there is a shadow that flirts behind her smile.
Her entire presence offers up an aura of strength. And I suspect that she has no idea that it is there, much less that it shows.
825
A small opening of pleasant talk assures her that I am neither an overbearing bore, nor a bothersome sex starved jerk who still believes that those letters in penthouse forum are all true, and that after ten minutes of talk he can get her into the confines of the restroom for a little hump and thrust before fading off the plane to his wife and kids. She is returning home from business, though she seldom travels far. When she gets to the terminal there will be no-one waiting.
She has no bag of overpriced giftoids.
Yet she is fairly certain that she likes it this way. She states her status of singlehood without the overcharge of one who must prove a point, nor with the meek underlay of fear that she may be that way for ever. She simple is single at this time.
She asks questions. Lots of them. But none that are pointless chit chat. Open ended questions that require thought and introspection. Already, she is someone who's evaluation of my answer is of concern and I would sooner give a thoughtful reply than be mistaken for anything less than my best.
8:34 469mph 40668alt
The flight attendants have wheeled past with the three ton drink cart that could flatten a grown man if the breaks gave out. I take a sip of my scotch on ice, She rolls her ice cubes around her diet pepsi and begins another round of questions.
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We are in the early boundaries of Utah.
Her aura of strength is confirmed as she talks of how she should have been a bartender. People with problems seem to flock to her. Strangers looking for comfort. Good friends who know her advice will comfort, her shoulder will hold tears well, and her couch is always ready for a wayward guest in need of a roof. And yet in her frenetic flow of goodness, I can already see the chink in her smooth and shining armor. It is the weakness of all strong people who stand firm and steady in a see of wobbly friends. There are few she can turn to herself. Few whom she can admit her own weaknesses to. How does one speak of fears and doubts to those who want you to be their strength.
Eye contact is hard to maintain when
8:49 495mph 40725 somewhere over Richfield Utah.
Your nose is almost pressed into the seat of the man in front of you who believes that if he thrusts all 240 lbs of his frame against the chair, it WILL yield an extra three quarters of an inch of space to breath.
Yet she almost demands it as we speak.
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Turbulence, but mild. Like riding on a road with small but frequent potholes.
" I did do something a little crazy a few months back though...."
She has a secret, that she has been wanting to tell someone. A stranger on an airplane is perhaps the perfect sort.
The result is best told as its own story because somehow, as she tells it, it becomes real in my mind. I can see the images and am in tune with the heroine of the story. I have perhaps been in her shoes and done a similar thing.
We are in tune.
I wasn’t able to take notes of all she said because the best conversations are not to be interrupted by split attention. Never look away from your dance partner is my motto, and when someone is sharing a secret, it is indeed a dance. She is trusting me with a thought that she is not offering to the world. Trusting me to understand. To not laugh and certainly not to brush off as idle chit chat.
9:06 493mph 40800 the border of Utah is as black as the approaching border of Nevada. we are due north of Cedar City
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As much of Nevada is behinds in front
A trip to the Ritz Carlton
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Fasten your seat belts please
Something inside her clicked. Our perhaps it snapped. But in a moment of self realization, she had been working hard to meet deadlines, schedule her clients, fill in for her absence staff, working late , working early, and in what little time she was not at work or working at home, she was juggling the nervous breakdowns of her friends and family.
Enough is enough. In the blink of a thought, she hit the turn signal and rapidly made her way off the freeway and under then around to the opposite direction of responsibility. The phone lit up and before it could warble an electronic rendition of " the marriage of Figaro" she had snapped the power button and tossed it to the passenger floorboard. The first urge had been to send it out across the center divider of the freeway. Back to the land of the responsible where at five miles an hour, the dutiful crept home to get back to working on those reports that were due in the morning whether dinner had been cooked or not. But this was not a forsaking of her life, it was an instant vacation that was needed for immediate mental survival.
The Shopping District was full of the broad range of usuals. The pretty girls who thought they were not, the ugly girls who wanted to be pretty while hating the desire, the drop dead gorgeous girls, who knew it. And the ever present backdrop of man flesh trying with varying degrees of success to look at all those tits while making it look like they were looking at the eyes.
She melted seamlessly through the crowd , somehow, a spectator to this cattle call without being drawn into it at all. A flash of red caught her attention and as she looked up into the storefront window, there was no question. A mischievous and some might say dangerous grin lit her face and she entered. No need to try it on, from hanger to bag to body it would go and yes it would be exactly what she needed.
Into the Ritz, without a reservation or reservations, she took her key and her one shopping bag, and headed for the elevator. The dangerous grin had slipped away and was now taking up residence in her eyes. The briefest of thoughts crossed her mind that her inbox was likely already full of trouble but the current persona would have none of this talk of work. Tomorrow would dawn and she would go back to that other existence. But this was a whole different life, if for just awhile.
A Luxurious bath and enough steam to fill two suites shuffled off the last nagging tensions of the day week life she had been dealt, and the only tension that remained was a nervous tickle in her abdomen telling of what might come next and anticipating it with glee. Like a child with a sparkler in one hand and a match in the other. Fear warring with Fun.
The dress glided over her naked skin like a glove. A perfect fit.
Somewhere, the good little angel on her right shoulder was trying to tell her that in that body glove of a dress she looked very much like a woman looking for trouble and that she should at least wear something underneath it.
Somewhere, the devil on her left shoulder was stuffing her bra and panties down the good little angels big mouth.
She ate a full five course meal at a cocktail table in the bar. She savored it. Slowly. Every bite was it’s own and each swallow brought more mellow fire to warm her intentions. Her eyes played with the men in the room. Daring them to see past the dress. They were unfit for the challenge.
Dessert was held at the bar, giving them one last chance to make a move. She would not let her standards down for an instant, they had to meet the mark or die trying. So much of her life and her job was about making concessions to other peoples weakness, making them feel better about themselves. Tonight, she felt good about her. And there would be no concession. Conversations played through the evening with men in tired suites with tan lines that gave away the telltale absence of a left fingered ring. Every line was a line, every joke and old chestnut. Yet it was so utterly not within her “otherlife” that each lie was a fascination, each come on an unexpected joy.
But here gentle reader is where our camera pans back from the scene and fades to a wide shot of the hotel as the sun rises on an early checkout as our heroine heads back to the daily grind. What happened in the latest hours of that night were not for the ears of even a father confessor stranger on a plane. We are left with our own fantasies of red dresses draped across the floor and mysterious strangers exploring each others secrets, for beyond that, she would not share and I could not ask.
We drifted into small talk again and then into comfortable silence. I will miss my new found friend.
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We nose into California the plane is no longer tipped up. A mild gravity pulls us forward as we tilt back gently to earth
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942 503 37124 Fresno is below
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945 505 33025 myears are pressing inward.
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951 463 25903 We are flying over highway 99
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the greater bay area
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959 99 directlybelow us
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1013 gear down
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1016 td
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and remain seated until the ride has passed the red arrow.
Tired of checking my blog, only to be met with last years entry? well, now you can wait for my blog to check with you.
I figured out the notify feature so if you are not already on my notify list, but would like to be, send me an email at charles@charlesmck.com. Thanks
Okay....so the whole telepathic blog experiment was a total failure. so ........back to the old fashion method