Once upon a time, a musician named Stew wrote a musical about his life. Then, years later, that same musical decided to destroy me.
It started out simple enough – Lindsey called, asking if I wanted to go into the city and see Passing Strange at Studio Theatre.
We’d been dying to see Passing Strange ever since we’d fallen in love with Stew’s performance at the 2008 Tony Awards and had hysterically mimicked it to each other for weeks.
If you’re curious, our obsession was Stew’s part at 2:03. And you’re welcome.
Though I was concerned about the huge thunderstorm raging outside my office window, I replied yes.
Immediately after work I picked Lindsey up and we drove into the city.
But something was different.
Traffic.
I-66′s traffic was to be expected, getting us into D.C. in less than an hour.
Driving onto Constitution though, that was a horse of a different species.
We’re talking unicorn traffic.
I’ve seen Constitution affected by presidential motorcade, by parades, by the cherry blossom festival – but I’ve never seen traffic this terrible.
Inch by inch we crawled along, feeling a strong sense of accomplishment with each block, and a rising fear we wouldn’t have time for dinner.
Researching the cause of the traffic on her iPhone, Lindsey discovered it was the storm.
The storm had completely stopped long before I even left work, yet apparently a half hour of strong rain is enough to grind D.C. into a standstill.
(Multiple people have claimed it was the street lights that went out and trees fallen across roads that caused all the traffic. To this I say, “Nay, kind sir!” for I didn’t encounter a single tree or flickering traffic light the entire way.)
With every turn, we expected to find a clear road, one less affected by the rain, yet each street was as backed up as the last.
This did leave time for photo shoots.
But not for dinner.
Important Aside: I need food. Constantly. And if there’s a scenario in which I’m deprived of food, well, you’ll probably wish I’d had food.
We slowly passed multiple fast food restaurants, fervently debating the wisdom of Lindsey hopping out to get food, then rushing back to the car.
Yet our (futile) hope that the traffic would magically speed up kept us from risking Lindsey being left behind.
Arriving at the theatre, Lindsey directed me to a parking lot she’d found on Studio Theatre’s website. It cost more than our usual parking lot, and quite a bit more than the free parking found a few blocks beyond that. But we felt we didn’t have the time for such things, especially if we were going to grab a nibble before the show.
“Can we park here?” I awkwardly asked the man standing at the booth. “You know the lot closes at 11, right?” he responded. “Sure.” “Well, make sure you park against the back wall.”
Turning into the lot, I immediately chose a spot not against the back wall.
I can’t explain why, except for delusions caused by extreme hunger.
Between the steps of turning into the lot and parking my car, I rammed into a large concrete pole.
Cleverly, the last thing I said before hitting said pole was “I’m about to hit that pole.”
Turns out, I was right.
Ignoring the damage to my car (don’t worry – entirely superficial), we rushed down the street, deciding the only option for dinner was grabbing something at Whole Foods.
When sharing that yes, I did end up crying at Whole Foods, I’d like to direct your attention back to my food aside.
Hurrying to the theatre, I joked to Lindsey that it would be hilarious if there were no more tickets available.
“No, nothing else can go wrong tonight,” she responded.
(Did you catch the foreshadowing there?)
Thankfully we purchased tickets and calmly make our way into the theatre, which naturally is on the fourth floor.
Let me describe the room.
You walk in what could be considered stage right, walking across where the actors will be performing their lines, then up a set of bleachers with chairs placed on it.
I can’t tell whether this is their planned seating arrangement, or whether they somehow oversold this show, but after we sit down the usher brings around 2 more folding chairs, which he places in the aisle, completely blocking our escape route.
Thankfully what went wrong wasn’t a fire.
Passing Strange was as gripping as anticipated, but in the midst of the second act, something started troubling me.
It was too long.
We’d checked the sign outside, stating the show was 2hrs 15min, giving us a 15 minute window to get back to our car.
Yet as I started tuning out the show’s emotional ending, I started obsessing over the time.
Not wearing a watch, I didn’t know if it had actually gone over, but I could feel it had been far too long.
Thoughts of being locked out of the garage filled my mind, immediately turning my stomach and making my heart race.
But however strong my need to leave, I would first need to make the people sitting in the aisle stand up and move their chairs; I would then need to walk across the stage.
Fervently praying for the show to end, I fidgeted in my seat as the scene dragged on and on.
(The show was very good, and I’m sure had I not been having a panic attack, I would have appreciated the ending.)
Finally, the cast vacated the stage.
Nobody else in the audience moved, perhaps having some knowledge that there was still show to see, but I jerked up in my chair, asking the men in the aisle to move and shuffle running across the stage.
Looking at my phone, I saw it was exactly 11:01.
Lindsey and I ran, arms flailing, legs cramping, hair blowing, for the five blocks to my car.
Okay, that’s a lie.
We ran 2 blocks, then, exhausted, settled into a brisk walk for the remaining 3 blocks.
Only to find this.
And if you’d thought I’d freaked out at Whole Foods, well, lucky you weren’t on 14th street that night.
Passing Strange is playing Studio Theatre ’til August 22
So you should check it out
But probably best if you just park on the street,
Megan
Passing Strange: The Catastrophe of Minor Proportions
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