Yellow Jacket Noises off(set) Nazlyn Monroe Congressman
We had an exciting weekend planned: “I love that play, Nazy! I’m really glad you booked it.” I enthused.
I should have (but didn’t) check the venue: The Circle Bar B Guest Ranch & Stables (and Dinner Theatre). I found information about the Circle Bar B the day of the matinee performance. It was, alas, too late.
We drove north on the 101. There were two signs at our exit:
As I was considering this, Heidi, the navigation computer spoke up.
“Continue for 3 miles to reach your destination.”
Unfortunately, neither Nazy nor I heard God whispering (“no, no, no.&rdquo
as we read the signs. We continued on our way along a narrow and winding road.
“Do you hear a background ‘hum’?” I asked Nazy.
The entrance to the Circle BarB was just before the washed out bridge. At that point, Heidi tried to amplify God’s message: “Please make a legal U-turn. When leaving turn left. (Accelerate and Escape.)”
Unhearing, I dropped Nazy by the restaurant (She was wearing high heels) and followed the dirt road and hand-written signs to a ‘parking lot’ next to the stables. “Don’t leave me here!” Heidi implored. I carefully dodged horse droppings and brushed away flies as I walked back to the dinner venue.
“Why did you leave me here?” Nazy growled as I arrived.
“Happy to see me?” I replied. “Why’d you wear heels to a stable?” I thought. We collected our food and. I vigorously shook my fork to dislodge the yellow jacket that had alighted on my chicken. The chicken (and the wasp) landed in Nazy’s wine.
“If you ate salad, you wouldn’t be bothered by insects,” Nazy said.
“I don’t think they like wine either,” I thought. “It’s actually worse than just wasps,” I replied.
“What could be worse than that?”
“The flies! There are more flies here than I was at the stables. But these culinary flies prefer our ‘meal’ to their horse manure. When you think about it, that is cause for concern.”
“Yuck!”
“Are you going to eat your chocolate cake?” I asked.
“I’m not eating anything at this restaurant.”
“It worked.” I thought.
We had to walk by the stables to get to the theatre. (The flies followed us.) The play (“Noises Off&rdquo is very funny - if it is done properly. It requires exquisite timing (there are lots of slamming doors) and perfect delivery. It needs..
“Actors and actresses,” I whispered to Nazy during the first act.
“Is there a plot?” Nazy asked. “And can you see the stage through the cloud of insects that are attracted to the stage lights?”
“The insects are the only living beings attracted to the stage.” I replied.
It was, in fact, painful to watch. Very painful. I had seen the play before, so I could (sort of) tell what was supposed to be going on. The plot wasn’t, however, ongoing. It wasn’t even going. The plot remained securely affixed to the paper script because the cast was couldn’t deliver it to the audience.
“What do you think about this, Dan?” Doug asked at the intermission.
“They’re doing great. The play is a farce; we can all agree that this performance is a farce.”
“Dan?”
“They are showing how difficult it is for bad actors to act like bad actors,” I replied cryptically.
“Nicely put. But we’re leaving.”
Other friends joined Doug and Leigh in the evacuation. “The parking lot looks like Dunkirk in June of 1940,” I thought. Nazy and I continued through to the bitter end.
“It was embarrassing that so many people left at intermission,” Nazy noted.
“Yeah, but half of the audience came from old-folks homes on buses. They couldn’t leave. That’s the only reason anyone stayed.”
“We stayed.”
“I like disasters. I would have stayed to watch the Titanic hit the iceberg.” I programmed Heidi for the fast route home.
“Turn left when exiting and continue for 3 miles. I warned you.”
On a more pleasant note, we went to a Santa Barbara Newcomers event (The Mid-Week Social). It was a..
“... costume event,” Nazy explained. I’ll go as Marilyn Monroe.”
“What about me?” I asked at the costume shoppe. “You can be Joe DiMaggio,” the shop keeper replied - handing me a New York Yankee uniform.
“I’m a Red Sox fan,” I replied.
“You could be Arthur Miller. Marilyn was also married to him.”
“Do you have a costume for him?”
“No. Arthur was really boring. What you're wearing now would work fine.”
“I’m a Red Sox fan,” I repeated. “Do you have a JFK outfit? He was from Boston. And I love it when my wife sings ‘Happy Birthday Mr. President to me.”
In the end, i decided on a more topical outfit. Nazy was...
“What is that!” She asked.
“I’m going as a member of Congress.” I explained.
“It looks like you’re wearing pajamas.”
“Perfect - a sleepwalking member of Congress!’
I should have (but didn’t) check the venue: The Circle Bar B Guest Ranch & Stables (and Dinner Theatre). I found information about the Circle Bar B the day of the matinee performance. It was, alas, too late.
We drove north on the 101. There were two signs at our exit:
As I was considering this, Heidi, the navigation computer spoke up.
“Continue for 3 miles to reach your destination.”
Unfortunately, neither Nazy nor I heard God whispering (“no, no, no.&rdquo
as we read the signs. We continued on our way along a narrow and winding road.“Do you hear a background ‘hum’?” I asked Nazy.
The entrance to the Circle BarB was just before the washed out bridge. At that point, Heidi tried to amplify God’s message: “Please make a legal U-turn. When leaving turn left. (Accelerate and Escape.)”
Unhearing, I dropped Nazy by the restaurant (She was wearing high heels) and followed the dirt road and hand-written signs to a ‘parking lot’ next to the stables. “Don’t leave me here!” Heidi implored. I carefully dodged horse droppings and brushed away flies as I walked back to the dinner venue.
“Why did you leave me here?” Nazy growled as I arrived.
“Happy to see me?” I replied. “Why’d you wear heels to a stable?” I thought. We collected our food and. I vigorously shook my fork to dislodge the yellow jacket that had alighted on my chicken. The chicken (and the wasp) landed in Nazy’s wine.
“If you ate salad, you wouldn’t be bothered by insects,” Nazy said.
“I don’t think they like wine either,” I thought. “It’s actually worse than just wasps,” I replied.
“What could be worse than that?”
“The flies! There are more flies here than I was at the stables. But these culinary flies prefer our ‘meal’ to their horse manure. When you think about it, that is cause for concern.”
“Yuck!”
“Are you going to eat your chocolate cake?” I asked.
“I’m not eating anything at this restaurant.”
“It worked.” I thought.
We had to walk by the stables to get to the theatre. (The flies followed us.) The play (“Noises Off&rdquo
is very funny - if it is done properly. It requires exquisite timing (there are lots of slamming doors) and perfect delivery. It needs..“Actors and actresses,” I whispered to Nazy during the first act.
“Is there a plot?” Nazy asked. “And can you see the stage through the cloud of insects that are attracted to the stage lights?”
“The insects are the only living beings attracted to the stage.” I replied.
It was, in fact, painful to watch. Very painful. I had seen the play before, so I could (sort of) tell what was supposed to be going on. The plot wasn’t, however, ongoing. It wasn’t even going. The plot remained securely affixed to the paper script because the cast was couldn’t deliver it to the audience.
“What do you think about this, Dan?” Doug asked at the intermission.
“They’re doing great. The play is a farce; we can all agree that this performance is a farce.”
“Dan?”
“They are showing how difficult it is for bad actors to act like bad actors,” I replied cryptically.
“Nicely put. But we’re leaving.”
Other friends joined Doug and Leigh in the evacuation. “The parking lot looks like Dunkirk in June of 1940,” I thought. Nazy and I continued through to the bitter end.
“It was embarrassing that so many people left at intermission,” Nazy noted.
“Yeah, but half of the audience came from old-folks homes on buses. They couldn’t leave. That’s the only reason anyone stayed.”
“We stayed.”
“I like disasters. I would have stayed to watch the Titanic hit the iceberg.” I programmed Heidi for the fast route home.
“Turn left when exiting and continue for 3 miles. I warned you.”
On a more pleasant note, we went to a Santa Barbara Newcomers event (The Mid-Week Social). It was a..
“... costume event,” Nazy explained. I’ll go as Marilyn Monroe.”
“What about me?” I asked at the costume shoppe. “You can be Joe DiMaggio,” the shop keeper replied - handing me a New York Yankee uniform.
“I’m a Red Sox fan,” I replied.
“You could be Arthur Miller. Marilyn was also married to him.”
“Do you have a costume for him?”
“No. Arthur was really boring. What you're wearing now would work fine.”
“I’m a Red Sox fan,” I repeated. “Do you have a JFK outfit? He was from Boston. And I love it when my wife sings ‘Happy Birthday Mr. President to me.”
In the end, i decided on a more topical outfit. Nazy was...
“What is that!” She asked.
“I’m going as a member of Congress.” I explained.
“It looks like you’re wearing pajamas.”
“Perfect - a sleepwalking member of Congress!’
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