Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

 Bruce asked if I would be their witness at his wedding in City Hall and I could not have been more honored and filled with bubbles of joy. It made me so happy to imagine the two of them being able to call each other husband for the first time.  Of course I immediately started fretting about my outfit, which I loved the opportunity to think way too hard about for at least four days. You can't hit up the google for "appropriate outfit for wedding witness" and really get any collective wisdom on the topic. Trust me, I tried. Meanwhile, I have to say I enjoyed the official wedding appointment booking email from NYC probably a little too much: Please bring to your appointment: ID & One Witness. Is it just me or does it feel like you’re supposed to tuck the "one witness" under your arm and haul 'er into the courthouse in the same sack as your one valid form of ID? I didn't mention this to Bruce, didn't want to give him any ideas. The thing is, technic...

First of all, Tom and I were on our own. For the past probably ten Broadway shows either of us has seen, we've gone with other parties who see shows idk twice a month? I mean Danielle's dad used to be on the Tony committee for chrissakes I'm not messing around here. So being on our own meant we had to forge our own path, pick our own seats, keep track of our own tickets, figure out when to get to the theater all by ourselves.... So we get there: Approaching the queue to get in John Proctor is the Villain . Foreshadowing: Notice the color scheme. Right after I took this sort of random photo of the barricade signage for unknown reasons, perhaps I was thinking I'd need an alibi to prove my whereabouts I have no idea, I see something actually photo-worthy. I text out this photo to Danielle because she has seen John Proctor is the Villain two times already and has tickets for closing night in September: A guy in the line is dressed in EXACTLY THE SAME COLORS AS THE MARQUES F...