balding angrily

Jerry and I went to Avenue Q two weekends ago. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a Broadway musical featuring cussing and sex-having puppets. We fell in love with the soundtrack when it came out and jumped at the chance to see the travelling version. So we walked in to the plaster sculpture-bedecked theater, and a group of four white-haired, smallish walker-operators sat behind us. Every time one of the puppets smoked a joint or assumed a mutually beneficial oral-pleasure position, we shrank into our seats thinking about our grandmas judging us.

In the midst of Avenue Q, when we weren’t shrinking into our seats, we were laughing loudly. And so was the girl next to us, who was the most straight-laced looking woman of thirty-two I’ve ever seen. The venue is in Fort Worth, and going to Fort Worth is just a strange experience. They have three world-class museums, a kickin’ downtown nightlife (which Dallas struggles to match), the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo, and a population that skews grey. In Dallas, you’ll see lots of faux. In Fort Worth, you’ll see lots of mix - genuine mix.

When the skinny, straight-haired, severe woman sitting next to me turned to me, I was thinking, “Dallas Uptight.” Instead she turned out to be “Fort Worth Delightful.” At half-time she introduced herself to us, and in the second half she laughed loudly and jabbed me in the side with her elbow. Meanwhile, her boyfriend looked VEEEERY uncomfortable. That’s what you get when your girlfriend drags you to a musical with puppets doing it doggy-style. And then she spends her free moments talking the two queers next to her.

We’re going to New York for Labor Day, and we’re going to see Spring Awakening and eat expensive food. We’re going to miss our travel companions, Jen-An and Owen. They moved to Los Angeles and left us lonely.