My sister, niece and I cruised down to Union Station awhile back to enjoy a performance of “A Grand Night for Singing.” When we arrived, I knew I was going to have to tell them about my “little problem.”
Me: Um, I have to warn you. I might fall asleep. If I do, wake me up, ok?
Sister (chuckling): Sure. I’ll slap you really hard. It’ll be fun!
Niece: Just don’t embarrass me.
Me: I’m not joking. There’s a really good chance I’ll fall asleep. I can’t help myself. Usually, I start fading during the grande finale, but it could happen at anytime once the lights go down.
And in that moment, I divulged my dirty little secret: I haven’t seen an entire live show or even a two-hour movie in years. Yes, years. I’m pretty sure I have some sort of mutant form of narcolepsy. Is there such a thing an entertainment narcolepsy?
It started years ago with a “Les Miserables” performance at the old Midland Theatre. Yep, I grabbed some shuteye during one of the most talked-about theatrical presentations ever. I still have no idea what that story is about.
Then there was the film, “Whales” at the Caesar’s Palace IMAX in Las Vegas. I enjoyed a siesta while whales splashed, dived, and frolicked in the open sea. My slumber lasted until an ocean liner’s horn blasted me awake. I missed so much of the film that I didn’t remember seeing it when I returned to Vegas a few years later. My friends and I bought IMAX tickets and settled in for the show. When the ocean liner appeared on-screen, I realized I had "been here, done this." Hey! I’ve already seen this!” I proclaimed loudly, much to the chagrin of my fellow IMAXers.
I made it through the Rockette’s performance in Branson a few Christmas' back. But by the time the grande finale rolled around – a live nativity scene complete with live animals and orchestral music on high volume - I was visiting the Land of Nod and becoming increasingly annoyed that all the “noise” kept waking me.
Finally, there was the Wayne Brady show at the Venetian in Las Vegas last year. Wayne is one talented man: he sings, dances, and cracks jokes. His improve is out of this world. The guy can get his groove on, and I was right there with him until … his grande finale. Lights flashed, music blared, the bass pumped. Wayne and his crew moved and grooved. The audience moved and grooved. Me? I sawed logs.
My poor husband, bless his heart, still invites me to movie night every Saturday. I see the hopeful look in his eyes. I know he’s thinking, “Maybe tonight will be the night she stays awake for the whole movie.” I psych myself up, “I can do it. I can stay awake.” Alas, week after week, I disappoint.
I guess I should feel guilty, but I really don't. I should lament the fact that I'm missing out on some fantastic entertainment. But the truth is, these sleepy time jaunts provide me with some of the best sleep I've ever had. As for last Saturday, I was bright-eyed and bushy tailed during the entire performance. Maybe there is hope for me yet!