the operaaaaaaaaaa!

opera2Ever been to the opera?  Until last weekend I’d never seen one but had always been pretty curious, especially since I l.o.v.e. musicals and plays.  So when husband won two tickets to the show Tosca through work we were pretty pumped to check it out.  So on Friday night we got all fancified and headed to the theater – excited but unsure of what to expect (just like when we go to Taco Bell).

And we kinda hated it.

Let me just say that opera goers are on a whole other level.  Since we live in Portland, we kind of figured that people would take “dressing up” casually.  Like maybe just tuck in your flannel and comb your beard and call it good.  Yah, no.  We definitely missed the memo on proper opera attire.  Had we known the dress code was mid-century grandparents – husband would have tried to grow out a Monopoly man mustache and I definitely would have brought my elbow length satin gloves.  But no, we failed.  However, I did have some wool mittens in my purse so I wore those while drinking my pre-show wine.  You know, fitting in.

The opera itself started out pretty great and exciting… the singers were amazing and the set was pretty cool.  But then it got boring, and then I thought it got better, but then I realized, no, it was still boring.  It was all in Latin, which I was expecting.  BUT I wasn’t expecting a giant screen above the stage with English subtitles.  It was super distracting.  And I mean, I get that’s it’s an opera, but does it really take 45 seconds to sing “paint it black” in Latin?  I never knew the vowels were so high-maintenance.

Worst part though?  At the end of the first act when everyone was applauding, the guy next to me did the thing where you close your eyes and then clasp your hands together and sort of shake them at the performers.  Like, proving how moved he was by the performance.  I’m pretty sure my eyes almost rolled out of my face.


Anyways, I kind of felt bad for not falling in love with it – and maybe it was just that I didn’t like that particular show.  But it definitely wasn’t my cup of tea.  Not at all.  You know what is my cup of tea?  Pizza.  Which we ate, when we left after the first act.

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