Sorry for the crappy cellphone pictures, but they don’t let you cart a big camera just anywhere in our fair city, you know.
Upon the suggestion of my friend Ashley, we went to see Wicked at The Orpheum on Sunday. I’m sort of inexperienced when it comes to real live musicals (I saw Cats and A Doll’s House at TPAC, I think?, while in middle and high school) and — short of Tim Burton movies and some animated flicks — I am no fan of musical films. For example, I think Grease should die in a grease fire. And Moulin Rouge makes me want to vomir. Etc.
However! Wicked was fun. The lyrics were hokey and forced, as I’ve come to understand all musicals’ lyrics are, but I was impressed with the orchestral arrangements and the acting and the singing and, most of all, the art direction. Or whatever you call the theater equivalent of art direction. The sets and costumes and effects were just beautiful and there were more than a few moments where I felt genuinely unsettled by what I was seeing, which means my brain had allowed itself to really get into the atmosphere. Elphaba’s initial dark ascension, the wizard’s debut, those dancing long-necked thingies, any time the dragon would move — kudos for a speck-free execution of what looked to be an incredibly complex stage and lighting setup.
I read the book a few years ago and so had become a bit rusty on some of the finer plot points, and, while the play deviated from the book in fairly important ways, it just made me want to go back and read the book again, because it reminded me of how much fun the book was the first time around.
And The Orpheum? Wow. I had never been in there before. But how beautiful. I look forward to going back for something, anything. Hell, I’ll vacuum on the weekends if they need a vacuumer. 
Before the show, the bf and I had dinner at Flight. Our server was so funny and nice and amusing, and I had spied their menu often enough before that I sort of had an idea what I wanted. So it wasn’t too stuffy and uptight despite the pretty fancy (to me) atmosphere. I tried the feathered flight (pheasant with cornbread stuffing, chicken with tortellini, muscovy duck) and found myself really smitten with pheasant. The chicken was nothing to scoff at, thanks to the snazzy garlic sauce. The duck was savory too. I paired my dishes with a pinot noir flight and found myself most drawn to the Mark West, which makes perfect sense, given that it’s apparently $10 a bottle and I have the palate of a professional Kool-Aid drinker.
The bf had the tenderloin flight. I sampled his dishes — veal tenderloin, pork tenderloin, lamb chop — and found them all really tasty, but I think I prefer the poultry choices. Then we had the cheesecake flight for dessert. Our server told us all were made fresh in the kitchen on site. There was a white chocolate and raspberry-sauce cheesecake; a vanilla-poached strawberry cheesecake; and chocolate, caramel and toasted pecan cheesecake. They were ridiculous. The whole meal was ridiculous. In the best way possible.
On the drive home, I stopped at a gas station and got two cans of Drank, which the bf and I sipped on before bed. It did not take long before we were glued to the couch, our rolls slowed to a near stop. A good end to a fabulous night, I’d say.