Janet Parmerter-Dinola is at it again – she details the draw of life in the Big Apple plus regales us with a bizarre and hilarious incident that took place inside a Broadway Theatre:
“Living in a big city may frighten those who thrive on the peace and quiet of country life; they cringe at the mere thought of living near a bustling metropolis. Nevertheless, for those willing to grab onto the proverbial “brass ring,” city life is exhilarating. For example, the twelve mile long island of Manhattan offers around the clock options for almost everything. With numerous entertainment choices such as arts, sports, music, museums, dining, bars, theatres, and shopping, all ages are guaranteed some measure of satisfaction. Such a variety stimulates the senses, while at the same time, dotted throughout the city you can find peaceful relaxing hideaways, offering moments of solitude.
Fascinating too are the cultural differences teeming in the many ethnic “neighborhoods.” Visitors and locals alike feel alive in “the city that never sleeps.” From jazzy Harlem, to mid-town’s green Central Park, to Broadway, and downtown’s fast paced Wall Street, sidewalks are alive with individuals from all walks of life.
Curiously you wonder, are the strangers you pass on the street homeowners? Perhaps they share a condo, sub-let an apartment, or live in a shelter. You just never know! Someone’s true identity can easily be masked amongst Manhattan’s population of more than 1,500,000. It is impossible to know each person, but cultural differences do educate everyone. This colorful international flavor imparts a delightful learning experience, while at the same time, the melodic sounds of diverse languages drifting around Manhattan play an unfamiliar musical score.
Ethnic diversities add not only a warm and beautiful zest to Manhattan, but literally change its’ appearance. For example, in Chinatown, you’ll find red Pagoda-style phone booths, ducks hanging in restaurant windows and colorful Chinese signs, giving Canal Street an Asian atmosphere.
One block north, the aroma of wine, cheese, Bolognese sauce, and espresso lures patrons to “Little Italy.” On Grant Street, handsome, well dressed waiters wearing black vests and white shirts invite you to “mangia” alfresco. Sitting underneath red, white and green umbrellas that have been cramped onto New York sidewalks, tourists enjoy Pavarotti softly singing Mama. A robust glass of Chianti wine is placed atop a red and white checkered tablecloth, its bouquet framing the aroma of a dish of spaghetti marinara with cheese. Adding to the din of music and laughter, you’ll hear Italians passionately speak over one another, at a decibel level rivaling a New York City Subway, all the while they’re wildly gesturing with a fork in hand. As New Yorkers say, “Ya gotta luv it!”
Growing up as a Jersey girl, I lived my life 1.7 miles across the Hudson River, opposite the sky scrapers of Manhattan. Strangely, even the thought of ever leaving that distinctive area brings a touch of sadness to my heart. There’s such a stimulating feeling you get while looking down Riverview Place at the Manhattan skyline, with its brilliant evening lights reflecting on the Hudson River. It’s exciting to know I can hop on the New York Waterways ferry and within minutes, step off onto that energetic island. Still, I love returning home to the “somewhat calmer” Jersey side of the Palisades, as the Hudson River cliffs are called. Perhaps what I’m really saying is, for ME…the old cliché fits, “It’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
As my daughter Ninet grew up, I took advantage of our close proximity to Manhattan. From an early age, I wanted her to learn the cultural benefits of the arts. Often, I’d arrange play dates with children whose parents also loved the city. Our favorite excursion was spending a full day in Manhattan, ending with a Broadway play or musical.
Since I am visually impaired, my seats of choice were always front and center, yet even that close I still needed to use binoculars. At first I felt conspicuous getting all dressed up for the theatre in an evening gown, gloves, and holding up binoculars. However, I soon realized being able to see the actors was worth the embarrassment. Nevertheless, throughout the past 35 years, many performers have had curious reactions to my binoculars. It would seem my binoculars are disconcerting not only for the one looking through them, but apparently also the one looking at them. This was proven true by another misunderstood situation I had with David Letterman so it wasn’t restricted to Broadway.
Over the years, stage musicians and actors have pointed to me, sat on me, waved, smiled, talked to me, and even thrown things to me throughout their performances. The most charming of these experiences came from Jim Dale while starring in the musical, “Me and My Gal.” As his happy-go-lucky character rambled on stage, he noticed my binoculars. Soon, with his hands, he made two little circles like binoculars, held them up to his eyes, many times pretended to stare back at me, and never once lost his place in the scene. Though it was a strange thing to do, it wasn’t a bit out of character since his actions fit his quirky roll in the play. He was adorable. Later, he wrote me a note stating he didn’t care if I watched the play with a telescope; he was delighted to see me having a blast at the play.
Another time after a musical, we hired a horse drawn handsome cab. Mid-ride, the driver stopped the carriage and his friend hopped in beside him. Frequently, she turned around to stare at me. Finally, she looked over her shoulder and asked with a slight giggle, “Hey, were you just at “Evita,” using binoculars in the first row?” Somewhat embarrassed, I felt my cheeks blush and bashfully responded, “Yes, did you attend the play?” then clearing my throat added, “Um, or were you in it?” After admitting she was IN the play, I quickly responded, “I hope my binoculars didn’t scare you!” She chuckled again and said, “Oh no, I didn’t see them until the second act. I thought you were trying to see if I had fillings in my teeth!”
Possibly the most exciting play we attended was in 1977 when my daughter was four years old. We brought her to the Majestic Theatre to experience her first Broadway musical. It thrilled us hearing the dynamic Stephanie Mills singing as Dorothy in “The Wiz.” Ninet was mesmerized and danced in her seat while singing each song. After the finale, as the audience applauded she jumped up and down with hands folded and begged, “Please mommy, please, please, please can we see this again?”
It seems funny now, but at the time my response was serious. I sadly replied, “Oh no Ninet, I’m so sorry but plays are not just like movies. At $30 a ticket, plays are much too expensive to see over and over again.” Feeling her disappointment, I added, “What’s even worse, there aren’t any other theatre productions that will allow you or any other children to attend. “The Wiz” is a very special musical, but I’m really, really sorry you won’t be able to go to the theatre again until you are a big girl.”
How times have changed! By the time my granddaughter was 4 years old, only 28 years later, she had already attended three Broadway plays. What’s more, the price of one “Beauty and the Beast” ticket was more than the combined price of our three tickets in 1977! From our first theatre experience, we have since collected over 90 Playbills. They stand proudly on their own prestigious shelf, representing a lifetime of cherished family memories. In their red Playbill binders, they stand tall as if patiently waiting for future memories to squeeze into their proper alphabetical slot. Located in the letter M section, you’ll see “‘M’ for Murder” one play that I will certainly NEVER forget.
It began after a particularly stress-filled month, when my daughter and I needed a peaceful play date. Thus, on July 8, 1987, Ninet’s friend Cassidy and her mother Laurel met us in the city. The Broadway play, “The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940” sounded like it could be amusing and we definitely felt overdue for some laughs and relaxation. Little did I know the fright I would soon experience in that dark theatre would cause my blood pressure to go through the theatre roof!
In the first act, the humorous and clever murder plot thickened. During intermission the girls and Laurel left for the lounge while I relaxed in my seat. Attempting to solve the murder, I sat there mentally scrutinizing each suspect in the play. Before long, I felt satisfied I knew which character was the murderer. The chimes rang, signaling the beginning of act two, and the audience started to return to their seats.
As the lights dimmed, an older gentleman came back to our row seconds before they raised the curtain. He had been sitting on my left so I quickly stood up allowing him passage to his seat. Settling back into my chair I was quite confident my assumption regarding the murder would be proven correct.
The moment the curtain began rising I felt something slowly touching my right ear and neck. In a split second, it was slipped over my entire head then around my throat.
Allow me to interject…as an enthusiastic and frequent theatre patron, I’ve attended plays where the cast interacted with the audience. However, I usually knew that ahead of time, and I hadn’t heard a word about this happening in this particular play. Needless to say, this took me by complete surprise. Briefly I thought, well, this was a comedy murder so maybe this was some humorous audience interaction?
“Sure, that’s it,” I thought to myself, “That explains what’s happening to me.” What could be more clever and apropos in a murder comedy than pretending to attack someone in the audience?” “Oh yes,” I decided, “this was a brilliant idea on the part of the director.”
How dramatic it would be, I mused, to incorporate an almost murder into this comedy murder mystery.
My thoughts were jolted back to reality, as this strange cord became tighter around my throat. By now the curtain had opened and the actors began their dialog while walking around the living room set.
At that point, the cord was WAY too tight and I became very, very annoyed. Then and there, I decided I had a strong aversion to this kind of audience participation; in fact I really disliked having been chosen at all.
As the cord jerked tighter, I found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Quickly my delight about being chosen soon turned into anger and I doggedly decided, “I’m NOT going to be a part of this any longer!”
With one hand I grabbed for the cord, but my fingers and the cord tangled up in my waist length hair. Becoming more irritated with each second, I became completely convinced this was down-right the STUPIDEST idea any director ever had!!!
As I frantically tried to catch a breath, my abrupt movements became a bit distracting and Laurel leaned over and said, “Shh! The actors can hear you!”
At this point, I’m still being pulled toward the left. To loosen the cord, I lifted up from my seat and now I’m practically on top of the gentleman sitting next to me. Subsequently, another jerk of the cord pulled me into his chest, and I’m all over this guy. Thinking he might hit me, I kept trying to say help me, but all I could force out of my mouth were large choking sounds.
As if that weren’t bad enough, while this frightening scene played out, Laurel grabbed my right arm, pulled me back toward her, as she whispered, “Shh, shh, be quiet, everyone is looking at you.”
Unfortunately, when she pulled me the opposite way it only tightened the cord and I gasped louder. Struggling again to loosen the cord I yanked my arm away from my friend and for the second time pushed my body onto the man next to me.
By now, the cord, my hand and hair were in a sweaty jumbled knot. People around us sneered in unison, “Shut up and sit down.”
At this point I’m still all over the old guy, chest to chest, and the poor, stunned, embarrassed man doesn’t know where to put his hands.
Finally, I manage to get my long tangled hair out of the way, free up one hand, enough to loosen the cord just a smidge. With the other hand, I grabbed the cord, gave it a sharp tug, and loosened it just enough for me to yell, “Hey, Hey, HEY!”
Meanwhile, the actors on stage continued their performance. Some were visibly annoyed and others, as Laurel said, shot us occasional dirty looks.
Once I freed my hand, I finally secured a firm grasp of that almost fatal cord. With a good grip, I yanked it with all my strength. To my surprise as I did, a woman in the row behind me jerked forward and flew onto the back of that still dumbfounded man next to me, as if she were iron and he a magnet. He was in shock, women were attacking him from every side and his newfound machismo confused him.
The woman was just as perplexed and couldn’t understand what force pulled her out of her seat. As she analyzed this jumbled mess, the cord, my tangled hair and hand, the man with me on his chest, and her on his back she immediately put the pieces together. She burst into a fit of laughter as it became clear to her what she had done.
You see, this whole comedy of errors began after intermission. As she returned to her middle seat, she carefully squeezed her way in front of the knees of those already seated. As she made her way down the row, she held her purse in front of her chest. Its thin five foot leather body strap loosely dangled over her arm.
Ironically, so as not to touch those seated individuals, she leaned forward just enough to latch the long thin leather strap around my throat. Hence, the unintentional choking began! Her strap was so long, she was seated two seats away before my lack of oxygen caused me to act.
Struggling to breathe and fighting to release this mysterious cord, I finally had a firm grasp on this threatening strap. With all my might I gave it a good pull, which loosened its choke hold. In turn, that action yanked her up and forward onto the back of the old man.
When she realized what she had done, she began laughing like a hyena. At this point, very angry people were yelling at us, and since we were in the third row, who knows what the actors thought.
Turning to everyone, she simultaneously laughed, apologized, and explained the bizarre mishap.
As she lifted the strap from around my throat, what had transpired finally clicked with the older gentleman. At once, he became more hysterical than the woman. Out loud, he babbled and giggled his thoughts to everyone. Confessions poured out of his mouth, as he admitted, “I was getting really excited; women haven’t attacked me like that in years. First it shocked me but, I kind of liked it!”
This only infuriated the already disturbed theatre patrons. They were ready to choke us all!
While these annoyed people listened and watched us untangle ourselves, slowly they understood the strange sequence of events. Within seconds, others laughed and whispered the ironic event to those nearby.
Soon, the explanation traveled row to row, and others laughed and snickered aloud until the disturbance was felt throughout the orchestra. It continued for several minutes as the news traveled back and forth in waves. Surprisingly, the ushers didn’t throw us out of the theatre.
Certainly laughter in a comedic play is nothing unusual, and generally it’s desired, but at the time of the laughter, there was absolutely nothing funny happening on stage! Thankfully the cast handled the situation like the professionals they were. With the exception of some curious looks toward the orchestra, they never missed a beat.
Truthfully, my heart felt sick for the actors who slipped an occasional glance at the orchestra and certainly wondered what in the world was so riotous out front? How could I have explained to a cast of a comedy murder musical that in the audience, there was almost an unintentional, non-comedic real murder? Mine! True, that night may have given me the last laugh; unfortunately, it could have actually been my last laugh EVER!”
