I'll Fly Away

I've never done a blog from LaGuardia before, but, hey, it's been an unusual (and wonderful) week, and I'd like to share some of it with you while the glow is still bright.

So we'll start with a little backstory. When I heard that Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake was returning to New York for a limited engagement after 11 years, I was like a racehorse at the gate. I buttonholed my friend Gary and danced little happy-puppy circles around him, insisting he come with me, since he'd only seen the original version shown on PBS in 1999. He agreed, largely because he wanted an excuse to go to the Metropolitan opera. Gary loves opera. Opera makes my eyes glaze over, and I told him I'd pass on joining him there.

Now, you may want to get a pencil and paper in order to follow this, but here we go. I immediately contacted a couple of loyal readers of my books and blogs, with whom I'd become friends--Eric Spector and his partner Roger, and fellow writer Joe Albanese, and made arrangements to get together to finally meet face-to-face. Eric and Roger even managed to get tickets for Swan Lake in the row directly behind us.

My boyhood friend, Ted Bacino--with whom I'd recently reestablished contact after 56 years--was coincidentally to be in New York with his partner, Jack, at the same time, and we set up a meeting for the evening of our Saturday arrival. Eric wrote to say Roger would not be able to join us for Swan Lake because he had to go to New Jersey to train with his new seeing eye dog on Monday, so we agreed to meet for coffee on Saturday after we got in.

With me so far? We landed at LaGuardia at 2:00 p.m., got to the hotel at 3:00, met Eric and Roger for coffee at 4:30, then met Ted and Jack for a drink at the apartment they'd rented for their stay, then to dinner at a really nice restaurant. I had three bites of an appetizer (you may feel free to say "Poor Roger!" I certainly did, as I always do when I see all that marvelous food everyone else devours without a thought and with such ease.)

Sunday morning, a shipmate from my days aboard the USS Ticonderoga drove down from his home in Connecticut specifically to show us around Manhattan, including a stop at Ground Zero.

We had tickets for the Sunday matinee of La Cage Aux Folles, and when we stepped into the theater, my detachment from reality became complete. I was no longer in the world of up-at-6-a.m.-V8-juice-chocolate-covered-donut-coffee world of my Chicago life, but transported to the marvelous world of make believe. La Cage epitomizes everything that makes musical theater so mesmerizing. A wonderful cast (headed by Kelsey Grammer and Douglas Hodge, whose rendition of "I Am What I Am" defines the term "show stopper" and should be required listening/viewing for bigots), a great score, and an uplifting story combined to force reality into the shadows in the corners of my mind.

After the performance, we stopped at the bar next door for a drink and, as we were sitting there, Kelsey Grammar walked by, followed a moment or two later by Douglas Hodge. I love it when that happens!

A Monday visit to the aircraft carrier-turned-museum USS Intrepid, sister ship to the Ticonderoga, following so closely after having seen friends from those times allowed me to pretend that time is not the iron-barred prison reality says it is.

Tuesday evening was Swan Lake. The New York Musician's Union was up in arms when it was announced the limited-engagement show would use canned music rather than a live orchestra. I rather agreed with them; a live orchestra is part of the theater-going experience. (I'd last seen Swan Lake in Chicago, where canned music was also used, and my resentment was amplified by the fact that the theater in which it had played had a stage which appeared to be all of 15 feet deep, hardly enough for a large cast of dancers.) But in New York as in Chicago, when the curtain rose, reality and time once again melted away and I was in a world of beauty and wonder where reality has no place.

As one reviewer noted: "The final curtain fell to an audience in tears, soon to rise again to momentous applause." And so was my reaction each and every time I've seen it.

And we're only on Tuesday! Well, I'll just have to make this a two-parter. I hope you won't mind.

New entries are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Please come back...and bring a friend. Your comments are always welcome. And you're invited to stop by my website at http://www.doriengrey.com, or drop me a note at doriengrey@gmail.com.