A funny thing happened on the way to the theater yesterday afternoon. I was sitting at my desk, sending one last e-mail before I departed for a Fringe Festival performance of a musical about Robert Blake, when the lights quivered, dimmed, and died. Figuring the power on my Upper West Side block had gone out, I put my shoes on, walked downstairs in the dark, caught a cab…and realized by the time we’d gone 20 blocks that it wasn’t just my neighborhood. Assuming that there wouldn’t be any shows to see that day, I told the cabby to turn around.
Eighteen hours later, here I am, very sweaty and insufficiently slept but otherwise none the worse for wear. The power’s back on in my neighborhood, some of the restaurants are open, and I’m in the process of figuring out what to do next. I was supposed to see Les Ballets Trockaderos de Monte Carlo, the drag ballet troupe, outdoors at Lincoln Center this evening, but I don’t know whether that performance will be taking place, or any others. I listened to a wind-up radio last night, so I have some idea of what’s been going on, but I only just managed to get back onto the Internet. It’s a strange feeling, being out of touch in an age when we make a fetish out of being in touch. If it weren’t so damned hot, I’d say I kind of liked it.
In any case, I plan to remain out of touch, but for another reason. I’m leaving tomorrow (I hope!) for a week’s vacation, both from New York and from “About Last Night,” and I won’t be taking my laptop with me, either. I need to rest up before the fall season starts. I’ll be back in the driver’s seat on Monday, August 25, and this page will remain visible and viewable in my absence.