Big and Little Apples

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Somebody asked me if all we did in New York was see shows. First of all, I wish I could afford to see as many shows as I want, and really, there is only one matinee and one evening performance per day, so no. In addition to Broadway, we went to Central Park, Grand Central Station, the new Highline Park, a Radio City Music Hall tour, and the 911 memorial fountains. The old World Trade Center water footprints are quite stunning, but I couldn’t bring myself to go into the museum. That day is still seared in my brain.

Also, I forget that New York has as many stars as Los Angeles. Upon arrival, we saw Nick Carter walking the backstreets and the plumber from Desperate Housewives checking into our hotel. We also saw Broadway star Christopher Sieber talking to someone on a street corner, like a hooker. Albert also got us tickets to The Daily Show, so we got to see Jon Stewart live and in person, and he is hysterical. He does a little Q&A with his audience before the show, and he is friendly, smart, and quick witted. We were also in the city during Comic Con, so there were costumed characters everywhere, but they blend seamlessly with the locals. Darth Vader, in all black from head to toe and sporting a dramatic cape, is definitely a New Yorker. I’m still tired from our non-stop vacation activity.

Speaking of stars, last week Albert and I were at The Grove and I spotted Tilda Swinton walk past us. We had just purchased a pumpkin at The Farmers’ Market, and when I mentioned to Albert who had just walked by us, he started chasing her. Rarely does he get that excited that he would chase a celebrity, particularly while carrying a large orange squash. He never caught her, which is probably for the best, because I’m pretty sure Tilda would have frowned upon being hunted by a man wielding a large pumpkin.

Last week, Albert and I were enjoying some Tuesday tacos at Malibu Fish Grill. I got up to get some of their amazing fat-ass tartar sauce, when I passed a little girl in a stroller. I can’t pass by a baby and not say hello, so I bent over to chat with the child who was less than two years old, and said hi to the mother. The little girl looked at me, pointed and yelled, “apple!”

I tried to continue the conversation with, “So, did you have an apple for lunch? I had a fish taco.” I sound like a strange man-baby.

The mother looked at me, held up her iPhone, and said, “Apple. She wants your phone.”

Oh my God, this little baby wants my technology. She doesn’t even know that an apple is fruit. How am I going to have a meaningful conversation with a tech-obsessed stupid baby that can’t even tell me what she had for lunch? Geesh.

This week Albert and I went to see the national tour of Pippin at the Pantages. If you are a fan of this show, it is by the far the best production of it I have ever seen. The singing and staging are a fantastic non-stop circus act. Los Angeles also has the original lead, and the Tony-winning Andrea Martin reprising her role as Berthe. Martin’s well-deserved applause for her trapeze number actually stopped the show, only the second time in my life I have ever seen anybody do that (the other time being Eden Espinosa in Brooklyn). With all that said, Pippin is still an overly simple, abstract, conceptual piece that is not for everyone. Act one is better than act two, and the lead is so whiney that Albert cringes every time he hears the name…Pippin.

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