Dancing with myself
Going to the theatre by yourself is something of a bizarre experience. It’s one of those things that, for whatever reason, is seen as “not normal”. Strange, really, given that if you do go with a partner or friend, the majority of the evening is spent with the lights out, not talking to each other.
Going to the theatre by yourself is something of a bizarre experience. It’s one of those things that, for whatever reason, is seen as “not normal”. Strange, really, given that if you do go with a partner or friend, the majority of the evening is spent with the lights out, not talking to each other.
For some, going solo is a complete no-no. They are the same people who refuse to go to the movies by themselves – something that I find a completely brilliant experience and do fairly regularly, particularly given my girlfriend doesn’t share my love for horror flicks.
That same girlfriend is in Europe at the moment and hence, I’ve been Mr Bachelor for the last month or so. Eventually I’ll throw away the pizza boxes, clear the beer bottles and I might even get the vacuum out – if she’s lucky.
Given her overseas adventures, I flew solo at the theatre last Thursday to catch Short & Sweet. Now let me say it has been a while since I’ve been to the theatre alone, and it is indeed a completely different feeling to going with somebody else.
First, there’s the drive to the theatre. For others, it might be a bus ride or even a walk – but either way, it’s different doing it alone. It’s a 45 minute drive for me, and I spend half of it ringing people on the phone – the traditional catch-up calls I used to make when these solo drives were a regular occurrence a few years ago. The other half is spent listening to talk radio – another thing my girlfriend frowns upon usually, so why not take advantage of the solo drive?
Upon arrival at the Newtown Theatre, I head straight to the box office. One ticket please, I say proudly. The slight frown from the box office attendant proves that perhaps, just perhaps, this solo theatre thing is not something she confronts all that often.
Then comes the toughest part of the solo theatre trip – waiting for the doors to open. It’s not an opening night and hence, looking around to find someone I know proves fruitless. So I sit for a few minutes, stand for a few minutes, stand somewhere else for a few minutes and then sit again. During this time, I hear many exciting conversations – one bloke has declared he’ll write a play for the Short & Sweet festival next year, another believes acting is a waste of time and his friend would be best off being a personal trainer and another wants to know what’s for dinner tomorrow night.
Being solo also means that when the doors do open, couples believe they have right of way – so after being shuffled back a little bit, I finally make it inside the theatre, which is where I meet my next challenge – where to sit. You see, if you’re with someone, you can pretty much sit anywhere – no questions asked and no curious frowns. People will move their way past you if you have chosen to sit in the middle of a row, and there’s no “are those seats free” questions. Very different story when you’re alone – you kind of feel like you have to sit at the very start of the row, so as to ensure there’s no gaps, and that you don’t have everyone passing you. So I make my way to the start of a row, and sit comfortably in the corner. Only three people ask me if there’s anyone sitting next to me, so I guess that’s a plus.
So the play begins and we’re all on level pegging again – except the couple in front of me who throw a few tongue pashes into the evening’s entertainment.
Ah, but the challenges are not done yet. The greatest of all is still to come – interval. Everyone heads out of the theatre, makes their way to the bar and there’s a nice 20 minute break. People discuss what they’ve liked so far, and what they haven’t. I check my voicemail messages – nothing. A beer sounds good so I collect one of those for myself, and then stand around and drink it – reading the program. I can tell you all there is to know about Short & Sweet thanks to this 20 minutes of reading, which eventually come to an end – feels more like 40 minutes.
So then the second half gets underway, and it’s all pretty safe – the couple in front have a few more kisses (by the way, she is into him way more than he’s into her, but that’s another story), and the plays roll on.
Conclusion comes – audience cheers, actors bow – and it’s all over. People make their way out of the theatre, chatting about what they’ve just seen or discussing what’s next – home, a coffee or perhaps even a late night pizza. I, of course, remain silent, as I walk out of the theatre, and head towards my car for that solo drive home. Love Song Dedications keeps me company for the next 45 minutes or so, and then it’s home – alone.
Now if I was to have gone with a friend or my girlfriend to the theatre last Thursday, the whole evening changes. No talk radio on the way, no quiet time in the foyer, no noticing the couple in front, great discussion at interval and afterwards and perhaps a late night coffee to finish off the evening.
Theatre provides us with so many experiences – but not all of them are on the stage. Just going to the theatre can be an experience in itself – alone, or with guest.