Running on Fumes ... and Pork

Although the flight was late, we still had our scheduled meals.  Which meant that I had breakfast at about 1:00.  It consisted largely of a product called a "bacon roll."  Sweet roll with a slice of "bacon" (halfway between what Americans would call bacon and what we'd call ham) in it.  Not the most healthy thing on earth, but, y'know, any port in a storm.

Getting to the flat I'm renting in London was a bit of a challenge, as there was traffic everywhere, so a ten pound cab ride turned into a 20 pound cab ride.  And the cabbie had to stop about a block away from the place, because my block was blocked off from the direction we eventually came.  So, hey, 20 pounds and I walked a block.  No biggie.

The nice people who manage the flat carried my bags up the two flights of stairs, and I got settled in.  After having been travelling for, um, let's say (wait, wait, I can do the math on this) 21 hours, I took a very necessary shower.  Did some unpacking and headed out to the half price ticket booth to get a ticket for a show tonight.

Normally, on my first night, I buy a ticket for the "loudest, most obnoxious" musical I can find -- I need something that will enable me to stay up late and overcome jet lag.  On this theory, I've seen shows like We Will Rock You; Priscilla, Queen of the Desert; and Mamma Mia.  As I checked availability at the ticket booth (and it was now about 5:50), I couldn't decide between Let It Be and Thriller, Live!  (The latter was probably the louder and more obnoxious, but I assumed the former might be, y'know, better.)  Unable to decide, I figured I'd get in line and figure it out.

There was nobody in line.  The woman in the booth looked at me expectantly.  I walked up to the window, and something in my brain made my mouth say, "I'd like one ticket for Merrily... please."

I'm not sure why exactly.  (Indeed, during the intermission, when discussing the production with the couple next to me, I actually uttered the sentence, "I've seen two productions of this show, and it isn't really my favorite."  Which does raise the question why I decided to see a third one.) But, I mean, I'd read some good reviews of this one; it was bound to be better than a Beatles or Michael Jackson tribute; and, well, I think that, as a theatre critic -- even though I was someplace nobody would know me -- wasting a London theatre slot on one of those other shows would have been just wrong, and I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

On a possibly negative note, I appear to be falling apart.  My knee started acting up already -- too many stairs (although I think my shoes might have had something to do with it).  And then, tonight, when leaning over to plug in my white noise machine, something went off in my lower back.  No idea what that is exactly, but I'm hoping it's one of those random things that goes away quickly on its own.  Come to think of it, maybe I'll go for another shower.  Couldn't hurt.