Goodbye Theater Show, Hello Air Show

We closed the show Saturday to many laughs, a few tears and a metric ton of recyclable glass that had once contained alcoholic beverages. This show was particularly fun to do and the audiences, save one damn night, were generally kind and boisterous, and so it is in fact a little sad to see this show come to an end.

We the cast managed to leave without any real permanent damage, not much anyway. Sarah took a painful looking faceplant in the green room when she attempted to jump over my legs; she said she was okay, but I still see her ungraceful, slow motion fall in my dreams. Oh, and I got a splinter during strike when I was helping in dismantling the set.

All things considered, I managed to keep myself in control during the post show party; if by "all things" you mean my desire to push a good time to its inevitable breaking point. I had some beers, a splash of whiskey, danced badly (which was appropriate for the music selections) and sang even worse. But still, I did not get home until almost 4.

Enter into a sunny morning, a shrieking child. Riley was not having a good morning apparently. Perhaps he felt bad for a headachy and physically exhausted dad, but I doubt it; the kid's cute and everything, but kinda self absorbed... While Bif was taking a yoga class, I attempted all the tried and tested tricks to keep a screaming baby from doing just that, but to no avail.

The television played only the news, because I could not find the remote. And what I learned a number of times from the news was that a Blue Angel crashed during an air show in North Carolina. I have to believe that air shows in North Carolina go over like “Dark Star” at a Dead show.

Which is well by the way, I realize not all of you out there are going to get a Deadhead reference.

I have mentioned before, loudly, my confusion as to what the purpose of the Blue Angels is besides a promotional tool for those mixed up enough to believe that you get to do something cool like that when you join the military. I'm assuming that they dazzle the enemy into submission with their aviation tricks, and barring that they'll just crash into a neighborhood. Sorry, too soon. When I let down my sardonic shield for a couple minutes I began to feel bad for the young, dead pilot and his family and friends.

And then the newscasters asked, "what does this mean for Seafair?" a number of times. Seafair is the Seattle version of the "Dark Star" air show; plane tricks and drunken boaters clogging the waterways for a weekend in August. There was no moment of empathy for this guy who plummeted through a neighborhood and into the ground in a few tons of fast moving steel, it just became, "what does this mean for OUR air show."

Perspective folks: some kid is dead from performing million dollar tricks for gaping-mouthed crowds of sunburned yokels, drunk on cheap beer. Maybe give it a day before we ponder the future of Seafair like some spoiled 2 year old screaming over another kid who got a rootbeer popsicle.

I’m still a little worn out from the weekend…