Have you ever attended a southern Baptist church? I've been to enough to know that neither I, nor the people around me, can sing loud enough to drown out the ringing sound that happens in my head when the white haired ladies sing in that shaky voiced opera tone they use. It's one of the reasons I think maybe I've been to one Christmas show in my entire life. If I've been to any others, the memories were so un-fond that I shunned them out. The one I recall was too corny to ever make be care about attending another. (Do you ever catch yourself typing the word "tit" when you're space-bar prematurely breaks up the word "though" joining it with "it"? I do, and it makes me giggle a little. That thought may sound random now, but what you don't know is I used those two words together, but then deleted them. Just a little behind the scenes dirt for ya. *wink wink*)
So, when my friend from work asked if we'd like to join her in attending a local church Christmas show, you can't blame me for my hesitation, given past experiences. But then I thought to myself, "What's the point to living life, if not adventurously?" So I said, "Sure, why not?" (In hindsight, I should have not assumed the Cowboys were having an early game, because I booked this 2.5 hour show on a Game Day Sunday, during Game Time. A major wife "no, no". Shame on me.) Among many things (like people that really can sing, unlike wanna-bee's like myself), I am thankful for DVR, which allowed me to pry the husband away from our T.V. long enough to attend this show with me.
You can see this church from almost everywhere we've lived in this area for good reason: it's massive!!! I've always wondered what it looked like inside, and now the mystery is over. It is ridiculous.
In the beginning of the show, we were warned to watch for flying reindeers, which I thought was pretty cute, until it actually happened. Then I thought it was pretty awesome! Look at Mr. Kringle himself flying gracefully through the air in his sleigh! Notice how magnificent that choir is! Their voices were boisterous and clear, complimenting the instrumental section perfectly. If you look closely at the bottom of the stage you can see the instrument band inset between the stages like we were in the Nokia Theater or something.
There was something familiar about the occasion. It wasn't the church, or the subject matter, or the music. It was the fact that my husband couldn't find it within himself to actually enjoy what the show had to offer, and it wasn't because the Cowboys game was happening without him. It was because he gave in to his greedy stomach's demands and consumed way more Tri-Tip Dip Sandwhich than one man should ever have on board, knowing that he couldn't spend the rest of the evening with his pants undone, belly up on the couch. Actually, forget the pants. This feast would have defeated even the elasticity of his boxers. Only this time, he couldn't blame his misery on me.
Why would he ever blame it on me, you ask? Well, you see, there was this one time when we lived amongst the stars, and decided to tackle a similar Sunday-Funday dinner, only that time, with Sloppy Joes. After dinner, I learned a couple of friends were coming to a new club opening down the street, Hollywood Blvd, invitation only. I decided that sounded like a once in a lifetime chance, so signed us up to appear under a alias name. Someone who was on the list, but not coming. As we waited in line, memorizing my new name, Melnichenko, we watched several people get turned down, and the fear of rejection started rumbling within us. . . . . or maybe that was just Patrick's stomach. Anyway, we made it in. It was a spectacular show. Girls dangling from stretchy clothes suspended in the air and tumbling around things that looked like the bars you see in birdcages. Boys dressed in dunce hats and speedos dancing on the speakers. Other hired sexy dancers occupying the walls. We spent $25 on a single round of Miller Light and a Vodka Redbull. The music was loud, and the people were elbows to assholes. We were all having fun, except poor Patrick, who could barely stand he was so full. When "I Gotta Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas started playing, the air itself was vibrating and I was ready to dance! I believe it was this moment when Patrick felt like the food was going to radiate right out of his body. So we left.
To this day, he says it was may fault. If I would have warned him we were going somewhere, he wouldn't have ate so much. To which my argument stands: why would anyone want to eat THAT MUCH in Sloppy Joes, anyway? Well this time, the fault has shifted away from me, unless you consider being such a good cook that my food is dangerously irresistible to blame. In which case, I can only shrug in response.
The first half of the show was filled with dancing and singing of our favorite Christmas Carols, a little Vegas show performing and Stand-up humor, making light of Christian Stereotypes, which was hilarious. Then after getting everyone in good spirit, the second act told the story of Jesus, reminding us what this day of celebration should really honor. Below are flying angels descending upon the sweet baby in a manger. I'd totally want to be an angel in that play, except they all had long blonde hair, so I guess I'm completely disqualified for that pretend-oppurtunity!!!
One of my favorite parts was in the very first act, when all was quiet, and a little modest man who loved to ring his bell walked onto a blank stage. He discovered a bell that popped up on screen and played it. That one bell turned into 3, which he played, which turned into more that he played, and eventually mutated into an orchestra of bells which he instructed to play an elaborate carol. It completely took me by surprise.
It really was nothing short of a concert. And we all know how much I like those! I'm quite sure that a few people were probably forced to tweak their hearing aids down. So once again, being open minded payed off! And for the record, over eating never pays off!
Have you ever gone to a Christmas show? Do you like musicals?
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