I ncredible but true: we’re 48 hours from calling it
a trip. I should probably spend all 48 figuring out how I
can manage to fit everything that I intend to take home in my suitcase,
garment bag, and backpack. But I’ll just be honest with
myself and concede that packing will take place the night before
leaving over a period of about 90 exasperating minutes, when I’d
rather be sleeping. Standard fare for a college kid, right?
You’ll never guess what our theater class saw to end the term.
After cultivating our sensibilities and refining our theatrical
tastes for two months – with works as challenging as Shakespeare’s
Pericles staged in Japanese – we’d presumably finish
with one more experience in high culture. But not so fast.
We were treated instead on that evening to Jerry Springer: The
Opera. Now far be it from me to pass judgment on a production
so bold that the censors probably wouldn’t let me repeat a
single line here. But I’m willing to predict that you
won’t hear it compared much to anything Mozart or Wagner handed
down to us. Anyhow, it made for an intriguing change of pace
and a night that won’t soon be forgotten.