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christmas at radio city

that’s where i was yesterday, instead of blogging like i should have been. well, i guess i could have done both, but i didn’t.

i was at radio city music hall to see the radio city christmas show, with the rockettes. with great seats, thanks to the in-laws.

i’d never seen the show before i came to new york. and, really, before i moved here and saw it, i used to think it was the ultimate in cheese, and why in the world would i want to bother to see it.

and then i went, and i confirmed that it is, indeed, the ultimate in cheese.

but in the best possible way. kirk needs to stop taking me every year if he ever wants to leave new york, because every year i see the show, i’m reminded of exactly why i want to live in this city. if you’ve never seen the show live, you are truly missing one of life’s pleasures.

my favorite part, actually, is listening to the mighty wurlitzer before the show starts. this year we didn’t get there early enough, so all i got to hear was the last half of the last song. boy was i steamed, but we had to meet kirk’s parents’ bus at port authority, and they got in at 10:00, and the show was at 11:00, and we had to walk by fox studios so kirk’s dad could have a shot at seeing some anchorwoman’s or ann coulter’s legs through the studio windows (don’t ask. really. don’t.) so i missed the organ. but they paid for the tickets, so i can’t complain too much. it couldn’t be helped. i suppose.

the show is the same damn show every year, except that sometimes they change a number or two, except that this year they didn’t so it really was the same damn show. but it doesn’t matter, because it’s such a marvelous spectacle that you really don’t care that you are putting on your 3-d glasses to see the same damn 3-d santa that you’ve seen for the last innumerable number of years.

and those rockettes. every year i try to find the rockette that’s going to pull my focus. the one that stands out, who does that little head toss or who has that extra little something that makes you think “she could be going places, that one.”

but you never find her, because they perfectly sublimate themselves into the whole. and they all line up perfectly every time, and no one ever bobbles or weaves or is unsteady or whatever.

and then the santas dance and magically multiply, and the soldiers parade and the cannon blasts and the soldiers fall down, and the camels and the donkeys go across the stage and never take a crap. i wonder, by the way, if the shepherd that follows the camels and the donkeys have emergency scoopers hidden in the voluminous folds of their costumes, just in case.

anyway, and then the santas dance and magically multiply, and the soldiers parade and the cannon blasts and the soldiers fall down, and the camels and the donkeys go across the stage and never take a crap, and the cameras flash so that you can hardly see baby jesus and whatnot, and santa reads the letters and everyone gets their toys, even the idiot kid whose last-minute letter is stuck in the bottom of santa’s bag, and then the rockettes pull santa across the stage except that you can see that the huge elf dude is actually pushing the sleigh.

and then the lights come up and you go back out into the city, and you remember exactly why you put up with all the crap that you put up with to live here. because, really, there’s nowhere more magical. not even paris.

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