The Countdown Begins
I saw Cats last night. Surprise, surprise. But this time was different. Yesterday marked one month until closing. And honestly? I don't really know how to feel. I don't... really feel anything right now. It's December. We are in the final month, and it's getting real, and I KNOW Cats isn't going to be there anything but I still don't feel anything. I think it's because I have forced myself into so much denial that my mind cannot properly even comprehend the possibility. And it isn't like I haven't had time. I've had so much fucking time to process it, and frankly I think that's the problem. I was able to put it out of my mind for so long that I don't know how to imagine it even now.
Chris asked me last night if it was possible for me to see the show 100 times. It isn't. I counted. I would have to go to every performance between now and December 30th except for when I'm out of town, and that just isn't realistic. That's something I came to terms with a while ago. But then I started trying to figure out if I could get to 88, because 8 is my favorite number. And I don't think I can. It was then that I first really understood my limited chances. Much like someone realizing their own mortality, I started to finally feel like I was running out of time. Last night was 74. Sunday will be 75. That's a really big number. Not many people will ever see a Broadway show that many times. But it isn't enough. Not because I'm entitled, or rich, or anything with those sort of connotations. I just need to take it all in as much as I can in the next month. Because once it's gone, it's GONE.
I'd be lying if I said every moment of every song still holds the same excitement and novelty they did the first few times I saw the show. The times when I space out for 5 minutes at a time always make me feel like I'm wasting my time or something. But really, every moment I spend sitting in the Neil Simon is worth the $40 lotto ticket, even if I'm not paying attention to every moment of "Gus the Theatre Cat". Just being in that space is enough, and in the end, the moment that still do hold their magic (the overture, Old Deuteronomy, Skimble, Misto, the Addressing, etc) are priceless. And I'd give everything I have and more to be able to see those songs, in that theatre, with that cast, with my friends, forever and ever. But that's not how Broadway works.
Over the next few weeks, I'm going to experience a lot of lasts. Last day going in costume. Last day in makeup. Last day seeing my favorite swings. That's a scary one. Not knowing when my last time seeing Callan, Tanner, or Colin perform will be. Or if it's already happened.
I cried during "Memory" last night. I never do that, except the three times Kolton left. Those were the hardest performances I've had to sit through. So I can only imagine what closing will be like. I just hope I smile. I hope to god I can smile, and cheer, and whip during the overture, sing along during Skimble, clap during Misto, and "yeah Carbucketty!" for Jakob during bows. Because what these guys deserve more than anything is the biggest, rowdiest sendoff possible. They'll need that energy.
And so will we.
Chris asked me last night if it was possible for me to see the show 100 times. It isn't. I counted. I would have to go to every performance between now and December 30th except for when I'm out of town, and that just isn't realistic. That's something I came to terms with a while ago. But then I started trying to figure out if I could get to 88, because 8 is my favorite number. And I don't think I can. It was then that I first really understood my limited chances. Much like someone realizing their own mortality, I started to finally feel like I was running out of time. Last night was 74. Sunday will be 75. That's a really big number. Not many people will ever see a Broadway show that many times. But it isn't enough. Not because I'm entitled, or rich, or anything with those sort of connotations. I just need to take it all in as much as I can in the next month. Because once it's gone, it's GONE.
I'd be lying if I said every moment of every song still holds the same excitement and novelty they did the first few times I saw the show. The times when I space out for 5 minutes at a time always make me feel like I'm wasting my time or something. But really, every moment I spend sitting in the Neil Simon is worth the $40 lotto ticket, even if I'm not paying attention to every moment of "Gus the Theatre Cat". Just being in that space is enough, and in the end, the moment that still do hold their magic (the overture, Old Deuteronomy, Skimble, Misto, the Addressing, etc) are priceless. And I'd give everything I have and more to be able to see those songs, in that theatre, with that cast, with my friends, forever and ever. But that's not how Broadway works.
Over the next few weeks, I'm going to experience a lot of lasts. Last day going in costume. Last day in makeup. Last day seeing my favorite swings. That's a scary one. Not knowing when my last time seeing Callan, Tanner, or Colin perform will be. Or if it's already happened.
I cried during "Memory" last night. I never do that, except the three times Kolton left. Those were the hardest performances I've had to sit through. So I can only imagine what closing will be like. I just hope I smile. I hope to god I can smile, and cheer, and whip during the overture, sing along during Skimble, clap during Misto, and "yeah Carbucketty!" for Jakob during bows. Because what these guys deserve more than anything is the biggest, rowdiest sendoff possible. They'll need that energy.
And so will we.
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