Persons 1 and 2: Edmund and Griselda. *probably not their real names
Last Sunday, my partner, Mags, and I went to see Book Of Mormon (hysterical and highly recommended by the way). I literally ran from my coffee shop to meet them outside the theatre and we found our seats. As these things never start on time, we had a good 15 minutes to chat and check out the programs. We were trying to figure out exactly how "limited" our "limited view" seats were when we overheard a strange conversation of flamboyant and theatrical tone behind us. It went something like this:
Edmund: Darling, did you bring the chiffon? One simply MUST have chiffon when attending the theatre
Griselda: Oh my love, I left it at home, I thought YOU brought the chiffon, YOU were in charge of bringing the chiffon to the theatre
Ed: No no my love it was YOU with the chiffon, I was to arrange for the buttered chicken
Griz: Ugh you've ruined everything now we have two buttered chickens and no chiffon! All is lost!
They had variations of this conversation starting from the beginning, changing a few words around, embellishing as they found appropriate. Mags and I leaned in to try to figure out what was happening. The couple was conversing at full volume, so it was easy to overhear. I whispered, "they have to be rehearsing a scene." Because who the hell has this same meaningless conversation over and over with gratuitous inflection unless they are frantically trying to get their act together for a rehearsal later that evening. Mags, being a dancer, says, "That is completely and utterly ridiculous, who would do that?"
I can't tell you how many times I have recited entire monologues on a bus headed to an audition. This seemed perfectly plausible to me.
Then it took a turn. Ed turned to Griz and said: "You know, lesbians really should control their acne."
I know very few 20 somethings who actually got rid of their acne in their late teens. Mags got wide eyed and I quickly surveyed the scene looking for two acne ridden lesbians, perhaps outside of earshot of this weirdo couple behind us. Then I remembered that we were at a musical and therefore definitely the only two queers in attendance. They continued:
Griz: You're absolutely right dahling, it is quite a problem
Ed: Do you think we ought to suggest treatment?
Griz: That sounds like a splendid idea my love, what would you suggest?
Ed: Well, as we know, salicylic acid did wonders for my complexion, I wonder if they haven't tried that yet.
Again, they would start this conversation over and over, sometimes incorporating the chicken and chiffon bit. Having survived late elementary and middle school covered in zits, I was more enraptured in what was happening than I was offended their opinions of my personal hygiene. It was hands down the weirdest thing I've experienced in the theatre, and I've been to a whole lot of festivals so this is really saying something
Mags however, does not take shit from anyone. Including shit coming from the mouths of certifiable psychopaths. They turn to me and say, "What the fuck is happening, I'm going to say something!" I was like, "Whooooh babe hold on." Partially because this little part of me wanted to see how far they would take it. Also, you never know when Book of Mormon will be back in Chicago (said no one ever) and we would have to deal with confronting the assholes behind us.
After listening for another minute, Mags turns to me and says, "I want to punch him in the face, I'm going to say something." Fine, you gutsy amazing person, fine.
So Mags turns to the couple and is says, "I couldn't help but overhear you, do you just deliberately fuck with people?"
They reply, "Oh no, this is just us. This is just how we are. We're going to have a wonderful buttered chicken dinner after this, you simply must try it."
Literally where do you go from there? Pretty much nowhere. They continued rattling off acne treatments and we continued to gawk at how unbelievably awful they were being.
Persons Infinity and Beyond: Perpetrators of Jazz Hands Worldwide.
This is not aimed at anyone in particular. Mags went to Art school. Mags does not like jazz hands. Mags does not like jazz hands regardless of their girlfriend's unadulterated love of Bob Fosse. Girlfriend loves them anyway.
Persons 3-10 roughly: The Old Gents of Panera
No less than a week after the whole sapphic acne debacle, Mags and I took a quick jaunt to the burbs. It was nearly 10 and neither of us had eaten so we stopped in a Panera to grab breakfast and coffee. Upon entering, an entire table of old men turned and stared at us. Not just a quick glance, they literally stopped mid meal, turned and gawked. I did the whole "I see you staring" thing and they just kept right on looking.
I mean, I know. Mags is sexy as hell, but come on guys. Clearly out of your league.
And rocking the flannel MUCH harder than you.
Anyway,
The employee who took our orders kept sighing and was real short with us. In his defense, he was on register at a Panera full of assholes, I would hate my life too. But still good sir. We had a very simple order and I would have appreciated getting my black coffee and bagel without a side of side eye thank you very much.
It was inescapable! Midway thorough my bagel a guy glanced at us, kept walking, stopped walking, and stared. WHO DOES DOUBLE TAKES ANYMORE? I just do not understand.
Sure. The two of us together code as anything but heteronormative. I get that we look different. We don't fulfill the traditional expectations of "masculine" or "feminine" or "young couple." In Morton Grove IL, we look different. And I get that we were potentially the only queers who dared venture out of their car and into your Panera, but that doesn't mean it's okay to stare. Not everyone who lives in the burbs is exposed to diversity. But to the best of my knowledge, everyone is taught manners. We all know it's impolite to stare.
Sometimes I get caught up in the liberal bubble of the neighborhoods I choose to spend time in. I forget that when you leave for the more conservative places of the world if you are not white, middle class, passing for one of two binary genders, hetero and able-bodied, you get looks. I wont delve into the social issues beneath this blog post, but I feel the need to remind people to be polite. If you see someone who looks new and different, just don't be an asshole. If someone makes you uncomfortable because you don't understand their gender or sexuality or race or ability, don't stare. Their life is none of your business.
And guys, we live in a world where google exists. If you don't understand something, use the googlemachine for something other than funny cat videos and your local news online. I'm not expecting much here. We all live here, lets not make each other feel uncomfortable when all we want to do is eat a damn bagel.
Clearly I cannot write fluff. I hope this was entertaining, but mostly I hope you google the terms "genderqueer," "gender neutral pronouns" and "heteronormative" if you don't know what they mean. While your at it, search "white privilege." I'm white, Mags is white, this blog was not even kind of about race, but social justice is intersectional. So go learn stuff.
Okay, we strayed from the path there, found a few similar paths, realized the paths were all connected in the first place, drew out an unnecessary metaphor. Anyway. I want you to google those terms please. And be nice to each other. And have a good day off tomorrow.
Kaitlyn.
