Puccini In The Park

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Summer, and New York is a different city.

On Tuesday evening Krissa and I and several thousand other people bore down on the Great Lawn in Central Park, for a performance of Tosca by the Metropolitan Opera.

"This must be the bit where Angelotti and Mario are panicking from the sound of the cannon signifying that Angelotti's escape has been discovered...and yes, here are the police and Baron Scarpia."
"Yes yes, all right. Can I read the story summary now please?"

We took some french bread, some salami and some cheese, a little olive oil and a bottle of white wine. We laid out a pale blue sheet on the grass in the middle of a huge crowd of other people and listened to the music as the day paled and the constellations came out.

"That's The Big Dipper, there, you just can't see the faint one which is the end of the skillet handle yet. It's also called Ursa Major, The Great Bear."
"What's bear-like about it?"
"Well, if you're going to draw around it."
"Well if you're going to draw around it. I suppose."
"That's The Big Dipper."
"That's Trump Tower."
"That's Columbus Circle."
"That's the GE Building."
"That's the approach queue for JFK."

The music was sometimes lost in the hubbub, but it didn't matter. The atmosphere was fabulous. Krissa looked magnificent in a yellow summer dress. The police turned a blind eye to everyone drinking wine. People lit candles. The lights of the city rose up around the park. The voices of the singers shone out.

We left before it ended, when the dew had fallen and the grass was damp, but the air was still warm on the skin. We made our way through the paths of the park to Fifth Avenue, walked across to Park Avenue and stood in the subway station eagerly awaiting the air-conditioned train. We held hands and hugged around the carriage poles on the way home, each stop heralding a blast of hot night air from the open doors. We walked hand-in-hand from the subway to our apartment building and showered and slept.

Opera in the Park is one thing...and the summer has much more to offer.

2 Comments

you classy bastards.

Beee-yootiful.

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    • Beee-yootiful....
      from Dani (read)
    • you classy bastards....
      from jen (read)

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