As I noted in yesterday's blog, I went to see the Green Day musical last night. I had never been to the Berkeley Repertory Theatre before, but I'm definitely a fan now. They have a great outdoor patio with a mini bar, which was serving specialty cocktails named after some of the songs from American Idiot.
It was imperative that my friend Derek and I sampled them all, of course. Would've been kind of irresponsible of us to try the "Letterbomb" and not know what "St.Jimmy" had to offer. We had one outside and took one into the theatre, using the paper cup the friendly bartender provided.
I made a point of making a pitstop before going upstairs to our seats, and I'd already gone once at the restaurant beforehand. When I got to the seats, my wife mentioned that she wished she'd gone also, but alas! It was too late; the lights were going down. I smirked with self-satisfaction.
The show was fantastic. I hadn't listened to American Idiot all the way through in a while, and I'd forgotten that the first five or so songs are all total home runs. There's a bit of plot shoehorned in between the music, but for the most part the show consists of one or more lead singers with a bunch of backing dancers/vocalists throwing themselves all over the eye-popping set, accompanied by a live band. I am more convinced than ever that "Jesus of Suburbia" is one of the greatest rock n' roll anthems ever written. Not in the past decade. Ever.
The show was an hour-and-a-half with no intermission, and right around the 45-minute mark, my bladder starting making its presence felt. However, we were in the middle of a cramped aisle, and there were signs on the way in that stated that if you left your seat, you wouldn't be reseated until an "appropriate moment," and possibly not in the same seat you left. I decided to ride it out.
I knew the album pretty well, and they were playing it chronologically. I couldn't see my watch in the dark, but there were only four or five songs left. I was confident I could make it through, even with the mammoth "Homecoming" looming.
Then they launched into "Know Your Enemy." What??? That wasn't part of the deal! That's not on American Idiot! When "21 Guns" tipped off, I knew I was hosed. I unbuckled my belt to alleviate the pressure. I squirmed and changed positions. I refused to think about any kind of liquid. All to no avail. I made it through "Wake Me Up When September Ends" and had to make a run for it.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Sweet relief.
I sat in a chair in the walkway after I came back so I wouldn't disturb the people I'd had to get past again and enjoyed the finale, the criminally overlooked "Whatsername."
Afterward, we were dissecting the show, and everyone else was talking about how amazing it was the whole way through. I mentioned that I couldn't really keep track of the plot, and they all looked at me in disbelief and started pointing out all these things that had happened that I hadn't remembered. I'd been in agony for 25 minutes and then spent 5 minutes going to the john.
Oh, and my wife held her water the whole time, no problem. I officially have a smaller bladder than a pregnant chick.