Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces

September 24, 2009 § 4 Comments

Excuse me while I squee.

HOLY SHIT JOHNBARROWMAN HELD MY SOCK.

*breathes*

I’ll start at the beginning.

I was at the Playhouse way early, because I just couldn’t breathe in the National Gallery. I was delighted at seeing Velasquez’ Toilet of Venus, but at that point I was just numb and I’d developed a slight agoraphobia due to what they call rooms but are in reality the size of a gym, and that’s just your average room. So, yeah.

I got a coffee and trudged down to the Playhouse (which is right by the river. Who knew?!) around 5, 5.30 or so. Sat down on a stone bench around the corner from the stage door, a vantage point from where I couldn’t see the actual door, but the gaggle of Barrowmaniacs was all too obvious. To be honest, allI wanted was a nice, small, quiet, dark room, and Northumberland Avenue isn’t exactly the perfect substitute for that, but once I got out my knitting, I was less stressed out, and at least there was fresh-ish air.

Naturally, when I’d finished the first sock and just cast on the second one so you couldn’t even guess what it was going to be, the gaggle squeed, there was the sound of a motor, and I ambled over to catch a glimpse of John Barrowman.

He isn’t as tall as he seems as Captain Jack.

I got out the finished sock, and when I asked whether he would hold my sock so I could take a picture, he was slightly confused. ‘Why would I be holding a sock?’ – I’d figured the Dalek argument would win him over, but sadly, it did just the opposite because it’s not official merch or something, and his management would have his ass for it. So, I got my copy of his bio signed instead, thanked him, and marched back towards my bench. He went into the theatre just a bit after he signed my stuff, because his people kept tapping his shoulder, ‘John. John. You really need to get ready!’ The original plan was to knit enough sock that at least the cuff was recognizable, but there wasn’t any Daleky design on it yet, and go back to the stage door after the show.

Oh, the show! The playhouse is an old, wonderful, plush, comfy theatre, and La Cage aux Folles was easily the best musical I’ve ever seen. I mean, I loved Lion King, Elizabeth, Phantom, Starlight Express, Cats, Joseph, all of them… but none of them were so close to home, in a way. None of them were gay. And holy crap, was Cage gay. It’s not a lot of story for two and a half hours, so there’s tons of drag varieté and John Barrowman mincing around in a negligee and nipple pasties, and outrageous dance routines, phenomenal costumes, and just generally a lot of comic relief from a story that is actually quite sad. Well, until it all turns out well, of course, but Zaza just breaking when Georges told him Jean-Michel didn’t want him there, and then the dark stage, the single spotlight, and Zaza’s voice trembling when he slowly, so very slowly, started ‘I am what I am’… pure goosebumps. Goosebumps the size of… Zimbabwe. I was actually trembling in my seat.

It was just as well there was the intermission  right after that song, so I could catch my breath, and enjoy JB fellating the croissant in the next scene all the more.

After the show, I ventured back to the stage door, where I met Francis, the Australian who’d sat next to me, and made a bit of fun of all the absolutely hysteric fans crowding before us. I mean, seriously. It sounds kind of hypocritical from the woman who just started her blog post with OMGJBTMS, but I was actually not star-struck. I couldn’t get a word out when I saw Farin Urlaub, but John Barrowman seems so much more… approachable, I guess. Plus, he only cooks with water, too.

Anyway, when it was my turn again, we just grinned at each other, and I asked, ‘Would you at least consider holding a sock, without a dalek, without a photo,  for good luck?’, to which he agreed while his PA or whatever scowled a bit. The first thing I got out of my bag was the finished sock… just as well. No photo anyway, and… John Barrowman held my sock! And wished me lots of fun with it! And signed my bio with his name and ‘love’, instead of just his name like my program and probably everything else after the show. *laugh* okay, maybe I’m a bit post-star-struck. But while I was there? Not a bit. Until I grabbed my sock back, ran out of the crowd, and doubled over laughing, yelling at noone in particular, ‘Oh my god, I’m the biggest geek in history!’

I listened to ‘I am what I am’ all the way home. What an amazing night. I’m still on a bit of a high. The boys came back around 7am and told me they had a great time… but no matter how great that was, it still can’t have topped my evening. It was the best I can remember having.

Sometimes it’s not bad meeting your heroes at all.

Advertisements

Tagged: , , , ,

§ 4 Responses to Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces

  • I read the first sentence. Only that. And I screamed. Hang on, I’ll read the rest.

    Okay, I read the rest. No picture is terribly sad, but at least you can wear the sock knowing that he held it.

    Lol, how tall is he?

  • wollphilie says:

    Eh, I can live without a picture. Or… well, my sister is going to London soon. I could knit the second sock halfway, like around the heel (I decided to scrap the Dalek pattern for the second one, god, I can’t see any more nubs. I’m just making two single-nub rows down the back and front for the second one), and give it to her, and try and coerce her into hanging around the stage door once XD She likes Torchwood, and Captain Jack, so it shouldn’t be too hard. :P

    Well… see, to me, Captain Jack always looked like he was eight feet tall in that coat and the braces and the heroic tilt of the head. I mean, come on, he’s basically a superhuman! But John Barrowman is, of course, regular-sized. I’m 6ft myself, but I tend to forget that, which is why I’m often surprised when people aren’t that much taller than me… and he tops me by two or three inches at the most.

    The thing is just… if JB isn’t incredibly tall, and James Masters is half a head shorter than him… how tiny is Sarah Michelle Gellar?!

  • wollphilie says:

    Oh, and you know what else?

    His eyes really are THAT blue :)

  • *squeeee!*

    *has trouble breathing*

    I’m so jealous. Oh man.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces at Wollphilie and Yarnwhoring.

meta

%d bloggers like this: