Oh you, my few and faithful readers, must know something about me here and now. I can no longer conceal this from you, and my deception to date weighs heavily on my mind. That I may have corrupted you by association, or that you may shun me as an anomaly or just plain freak, are real possibilities that have not escaped my imagination. But I must tell you now, or forever remain in silence.
I like Opera.
No, I’m not talking about Charlotte Church squeaking out O Mio Babbino, or Andrea Bocelli moaning most emotionally the strains of Nessun Dorma. They are, in my mind, sometimes pleasant background music but nothing to really be taken seriously, ever. I mean real, honest to goodness opera that most people don’t listen to as a point of conscience. All I can say is, they have weird consciences if they listen to Josh Groban but snub their noses at Renee Fleming.
But enough of said rant. I also married a man who loves me oh-so-much that he scheduled our honeymoon around performances at the Metropolitan Opera Company and took me to a four hour opera. Actually, it was closer to four and a half. And he didn’t complain once, and the commentary he provided definitely enhanced the situation. It turned a tragic opera into a comic one, at least for the two of us.
The opera was incredible. The sets, the costuming, but most of all the music were absolutely more than an uninitiated opera goer could conceive, and it’s easy to see why this particular opera house is so famous. Even if it weren’t for the world-class company, it is simply a beautiful place.
Which brings me to those who may not be music or opera people, if you’re still with me. If you’re still here, that probably means you love me. Thanks for that. But anyway, I have a recommendation for you. Even if you can’t stand classical music, even if opera makes the hair on the back of your neck stick straight out, go visit the Metropolitan Opera House. Shoot, the whole Lincoln center might be amazing, but we didn’t see any of the rest of it. I’m making this recommendation based on that one building alone. Because it was that beautiful.
You can take a tour, and that would be really neat. You get to go backstage, and see production areas, and try on wigs. Just kidding about the wigs. And you can read up on the opera house before you go and be that smarty-pants person on the tour who annoys the tour guide by knowing more than them. In short?
I’m putting this one on my New York to-do list. Now I just have to convince Micah that it will be more fun than sitting through an opera. Wish me luck.