California Livin' Series: Beach Blanket Babylon (San Francisco)
Back at it with another California Livin' post! I know, these are becoming a regular thing. But food isn't all there is to life, right? It's just... most of it. Anyway, see here for previous posts. Today we're going to recap the theatrical experience that is Beach Blanket Babylon!
If you want to experience San Francisco in a couple hours, this is it. Beach Blanket Babylon is San Francisco.
No, it has nothing to do with being on a beach. Babylon? Perhaps, in some demented manner. What you'll be watching is a pop-culture slaying in musical format. While the musical itself lasts the length of a movie, the line to get in will set you back another hour. I've stood in it thrice so far. Oh, it's that good. The show. Not the line.
Inside you'll be seated at a table with all your flamboyant friends (You didn't bring any? Shame!) and that ambiguously-gay cousin of yours. Two item minimum, so treat yourself to some fizz and pretzels - the better to go with all the Skittles-colored eye candy you'll be witnessing in, oh, about twenty more minutes. That'd be the amount of time it takes for everyone to get "seated" because, after standing in line for sixty minutes, sitting your ass down is the last thing anyone seems to want to do.
The show? Ah, yes, the show... Not to give too much away, but prepare for some darkly-humored Disney characters, fluffy-feathery-and-otherwise-inappropriately-extravagant headdresses, and - Dun-dun-duhhhh - a fat lady singing. It's not over yet, though. You're about to watch all the public figures you love to hate (yes, that includes you, El Presidente) slaughtered to an extent that Saturday Night Live could never hope to accomplish.
Finally, the show will end, and you'll clap, and cheer, and perhaps you'll shout "encore" without meaning it in the least. But know that you are now one of the elite. You lasted the whole damn show, and henceforth will forever (if only at heart) be a part of the loony bin that is San Francisco.
Trust, you won't forget this. At least, not until you scrub all that glitter off in the shower your mind will urge you to take as soon as you get back to your hotel. Ooooh, shower time! ...Sorry. BBB makes me think naughty thoughts.
If you want to experience San Francisco in a couple hours, this is it. Beach Blanket Babylon is San Francisco.
No, it has nothing to do with being on a beach. Babylon? Perhaps, in some demented manner. What you'll be watching is a pop-culture slaying in musical format. While the musical itself lasts the length of a movie, the line to get in will set you back another hour. I've stood in it thrice so far. Oh, it's that good. The show. Not the line.
Inside you'll be seated at a table with all your flamboyant friends (You didn't bring any? Shame!) and that ambiguously-gay cousin of yours. Two item minimum, so treat yourself to some fizz and pretzels - the better to go with all the Skittles-colored eye candy you'll be witnessing in, oh, about twenty more minutes. That'd be the amount of time it takes for everyone to get "seated" because, after standing in line for sixty minutes, sitting your ass down is the last thing anyone seems to want to do.
The show? Ah, yes, the show... Not to give too much away, but prepare for some darkly-humored Disney characters, fluffy-feathery-and-otherwise-inappropriately-extravagant headdresses, and - Dun-dun-duhhhh - a fat lady singing. It's not over yet, though. You're about to watch all the public figures you love to hate (yes, that includes you, El Presidente) slaughtered to an extent that Saturday Night Live could never hope to accomplish.
And then comes the tipping point. For some, that is; hopefully not for you. The moment when, about three-fourths of the way into the show, your eyes have had just about enough, and your brain is screaming for any sign of intellect, and you just cannot take any-San-Franciscan-more but you paid for your tickets and it's kinda rude to leave all this way into it. Now's the moment when the audience starts lightening up - with their iPhone screens, of course. And you would too, if only you could afford that drastic monthly bill, but you can't, so you're stuck sitting there. Thirty more minutes of the fat lady singing, once again, and her solo is taking a freaking lifetime. And finally, finally, it looks like it's nearing the end, but it keeps going and going... much like this post. It's around this time you'll be seeking a potty break. No worries if you spend an extra fifteen in the loo. It's dark in the theatre, and your touchy-feely friends won't ever notice you're gone.
Finally, the show will end, and you'll clap, and cheer, and perhaps you'll shout "encore" without meaning it in the least. But know that you are now one of the elite. You lasted the whole damn show, and henceforth will forever (if only at heart) be a part of the loony bin that is San Francisco.
Trust, you won't forget this. At least, not until you scrub all that glitter off in the shower your mind will urge you to take as soon as you get back to your hotel. Ooooh, shower time! ...Sorry. BBB makes me think naughty thoughts.
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