Monday, August 12, 2013

Not So Delayed Review: Cirque du Soleil's Amaluna

Jackson and I went on another one of my "Best Date Ever w/a Family Member"s. We ate at Root Down. I had an amazing Sweet Corn Jalapeno Risotto and Jack got the Lamb Sliders. Obviously we shared some Sweet Potato Fries.

We then drove one mile to Pepsi Center Grounds to the Grand Chapiteau or Big Top all striped and French-i-fied.

The squinty eyes (or squiyes) is the new smize. Deal with it.

Stood outside in the sunny, rainy early evening proudly proclaiming ourselves to be the thick-skinned Oregonians we once were and discussed flagology. (Not to be mixed up with the very gruesome 'flogology' or the very bigoted... well I won't even say it. Ask my mom. She will. "Something that was OK in the 70s" my foot.)

When the doors finally opened we jumped in line to have our tickets scanned, took a quick look at the souvenirs (I bought some) and then ran back outside to wait in line for the one bathroom. No Soap... French-Canadians, man.

We then hopped back inside looked around (found a whole bunch more bathrooms) and then found our door and...waited in another line.

The cool thing about all the waiting in all the lines? They make you wish you waited in more lines in your every day life at Cirque du Soleil. There is so much to see, not to mention the impending awesomeness you know is coming your way in the show, and a certain I-don't-know-what European smell in the air. Though that last one might be due to all the sweaty furreigners warming up on the stage just curtain away. I don't know.

We then were quickly ripped from our enjoyment of the line waiting and ushered in the Grand Grand Chapiteau where we (or just maybe me) said a quick prayer of thanks that we hadn't over-paid for anything closer than we were. 'Twas perfect.

Almost got punched by a security guard for taking this picture/asked very nicely not to take anymore...

After yet another remarkably enjoyable wait of people watching and set examining and panicking for the poor people climbing along on the cat walks thousands, yes THOUSANDS of inches above my head seats were filled and Jackson was back with me to grumble about all the late comers climbing over us to their seats. BOOOOO!

Suddenly some weirdos started showing up suuuuuper late. They were either EXTREMELY into Cirque du Soleil and very talented costumers or they were performers. Ok, I'm sorry. They were performers. Perhaps one of my favorite parts of every Cirque show (please let me abbreviate it that way without being a tool... it's such a pain to type out every time) I've been to is that you're a part of the show 100%; almost like there's no backstage, or the audience are all performers as well... although that may just be wishful thinking on my part. As several women came walking by (the woman in the picture below was an especial friend of Jack's, she's from Australia... he looked it up, the creeper) in more and more freaking awesome hair, makeup, and costumes, I got more and more excited. Highlight of the opening? The bat-crazy lizard man stealing some guys popcorn in the $400 seats and climbing up one of the poles and dumping alllll over them. When he did that the guy next to me (not Jackson) was like "Oh man I'd be so pissed if they did that. That stuffs expensive." I assume the concession stands are aware that this happens and people get more for free (using that next time!) but the thought occurs to me that most people up there in those seats don't really care about a $10 popcorn... Just a thought for us poor people. How would that be? To be so rich that a $10 tub of popcorn is completely expendable!! Whoa. Mind. Blown.
She just seemed like we could really be good friends. Just saying.

So, mostly because I'm worried about that security guard cyber-punching me I will not be relating anything from the show... and also a little bit because I seem to have gone on a bit long for the first part... Weird.

If you're a freak and enjoyed this let me know, and I'll do a part deux in about..... a year. Or later this week depending on how boring life/work is.

Latres (French for "Laters")

A bientot,