It was just yesterday evening that I secured two free tickets to tonight’s show – which meant that I had less than 24 hours to find someone who might want to go with me. To be honest, it took much more effort than I thought it would to find a friend or “date” to go – kind of like how it was when I had won tickets to the Super Bowl. (I still don’t get that one, but I did learn from that experience that he’s not that into you if you win tickets to the Super Bowl and he’d rather watch the game from home.)
After much texting - finally, an hour before the show, my friend Ali agreed to go. Together we made our way down Broadway, took a left at 41st Street, and headed west until we were standing in front of Nederlander Theatre. To be honest, I was glad it was Ali, rather than some random guy I know in the city (such as Erik, Peter, Mark, or Richie) that came with me this evening, because I didn’t know much about the musical and I feared that if it was a guy he might be bored by the show, then psychologically associate me that boredom with me, and then never ask me out again. (It’s true, I over think things, but I’m girl, and I have futuristic – see Strengths finder 2.0 – so I can’t help but over analyze, over calculate and make predictions that may or may not be accurate.)
The name of the show was Million Dollar Quartet, and as we sat down in our seats, we were presented with a movie-like screen that stated the following:
On December 4, 1956, one man brought Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, and Elvis Presley together to play for the first and only time.
His name was Sam Phillips…
The place was Sun Records…
That night they made rock ‘n’ roll history.
Throughout the musical the actors performed hits such as “Blue Suede Shoes”, “Great Balls of Fire”, “See You Later Alligator”, and “Hound Dog.” The pretend Johnny Cash even sang “I Walk the Line” and when he did I was reminded of a time when I was running down a historically persevered avenue in Riverside, California known as Victoria. The avenue, lined with trails and bike paths and palm trees, was my haven from the worries and cares in life, and I joined its company most every day when I lived in So Cal.
One day as I was running, a CD suddenly fell onto the ground in front of me. It seemed like the CD had fallen from the heavens, but when I looked up, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the only reasonable explanation is that it had fallen out of the leaves of a Palm Tree. I stopped running, picked it up and read its label. Sharpeed onto the CD was the name Johnny Cash. Although the CD was scratched up a bit, for some reason I kept it – I think because it’s not every day that a Johnny Cash CD falls from the sky. I’m still trying to place meaning on that incident - thus far have been unsuccessful.
Interestly enough, it’s not the first time something that has fallen right in front of me from seemingly nowhere. A year or two before the CD incident I was walking in the Lower Level of Riversides’ Tyler Mall.
(Still in the Works)