stars, hide your fires...
Dec. 4th, 2011 12:02 amIt's one of those days: I lost an earring somewhere between the hotel room and the theatre, and I seem to have picked up a bit of an intestinal bug. On the bright side, the play - Seminar with Alan Rickman, Lily Rabe and Jerry O'Connell – was wry and funny and viciously witty, and Alan Rickman of course was extremely sexy, even in a relatively unsexy role. That voice, that voice.
Prior to that, we had breakfast of sorts, a slice of pizza at Famous Original Ray's. We were just too exhausted after last night to get up in time for the breakfast buffet at the hotel. I didn't even have time to do yoga, so I was all sorts of out of sorts by the time we hit the theatre. If it had been a less than stellar production, I would have been devastated, but fortunately it was excellent. I also see that Paul Gross is on Broadway right now, doing Private Lives with Kim Cattrall. We may need to get back here earlier than springtime.
We had dinner at Hill Country Barbecue (I know – who goes to NYC and eats nothing but 'cue?) It's a little different from the average restaurant. You go in and they give you a meal ticket, which you take up to various stations where they serve you your meat or side dishes; drinks are served by an actual waitress. We shared ¾ lb of ribs, which were of Flintstonian proportions. Then we poked through a local gourmet grocer before catching a cab to the McKittrick for the evening. Getting a cab in NYC this visit has been tough! We've had the best luck catching them just as someone else is getting out. Flagging one down on the street is nigh-impossible.
New procedures at Sleep No More that I neglected to mention: the doormen now scan Ids, presumably to make sure they're real, and the entry cards are punched now, presumably so that less-than-ethical types can't reuse them.
Tonight, instead of Maximilian, there was last night's Malcolm, looming in the center of the room, posing, occasionally raising his drink in the direction of the bar. Eventually he got up onstage and invited the aces to make their way to the back of the room in a dreary, almost monotonous voice, very different from Max's cheery patter. Constance de Winter gave us the rules before summoning James the elevator attendant (who doubles as Mr. Bargarran, the taxidermist).
( Wherein there is no more sleeping. Macbeth hath murdered sleep. )
Prior to that, we had breakfast of sorts, a slice of pizza at Famous Original Ray's. We were just too exhausted after last night to get up in time for the breakfast buffet at the hotel. I didn't even have time to do yoga, so I was all sorts of out of sorts by the time we hit the theatre. If it had been a less than stellar production, I would have been devastated, but fortunately it was excellent. I also see that Paul Gross is on Broadway right now, doing Private Lives with Kim Cattrall. We may need to get back here earlier than springtime.
We had dinner at Hill Country Barbecue (I know – who goes to NYC and eats nothing but 'cue?) It's a little different from the average restaurant. You go in and they give you a meal ticket, which you take up to various stations where they serve you your meat or side dishes; drinks are served by an actual waitress. We shared ¾ lb of ribs, which were of Flintstonian proportions. Then we poked through a local gourmet grocer before catching a cab to the McKittrick for the evening. Getting a cab in NYC this visit has been tough! We've had the best luck catching them just as someone else is getting out. Flagging one down on the street is nigh-impossible.
New procedures at Sleep No More that I neglected to mention: the doormen now scan Ids, presumably to make sure they're real, and the entry cards are punched now, presumably so that less-than-ethical types can't reuse them.
Tonight, instead of Maximilian, there was last night's Malcolm, looming in the center of the room, posing, occasionally raising his drink in the direction of the bar. Eventually he got up onstage and invited the aces to make their way to the back of the room in a dreary, almost monotonous voice, very different from Max's cheery patter. Constance de Winter gave us the rules before summoning James the elevator attendant (who doubles as Mr. Bargarran, the taxidermist).
( Wherein there is no more sleeping. Macbeth hath murdered sleep. )