Check. Check 1. Is this thing on?

Last night I met J and A in the Common to see Shakespeare in the Park. It was As You Like It, and it was delightful: lovely costumes, charming actors, and awesome audience members who made sure the sight-lines were cleared. It was a very good experience all around. It threatened rain, but we were able to enjoy our goodies (wine/sandwiches/starburst/chocolates) and stay dry under the cloudy sky. I'd gotten there early - around 5pm, and we didn't leave until 11. It was nice to be outside, enjoying Shakespeare with hundreds of other Bostonians.

Perhaps the most comedic part of the evening, however, was the ride home on the T. I don't mean this as any disrespect to the fine actors involved in Shakespeare in the Park; they certainly did a great job. I just find it particularly impressive that A, J, and I performed an entire talk-show, complete with guest interviews, with no media equipment save a black umbrella. Let me explain:

As we were waiting for the T, there was live music playing. This is not an odd occurrence in the T stations, as there are frequently buskers playing all manner of music. This had a sufficient beat, and A and I were able to do one of our favorite things: "freak" J - this basically consists of us aggressively dancing on J to make her laugh. If we were men doing it, it would be wildly inappropriate and intimidating, but since we're chicks, it's just funny.

Anyway, once we got on the train (luckily snagging a block of seats) and it began speeding off at the pace of a disabled snail, we quickly grew silly. We began singing Pat Benetar songs into the end of A's umbrella as if it were a microphone. The guys (standing) in front of us indicated that they enjoyed our "dancing" on the platform before we boarded. We thanked them, and then asked them for their thoughts, sticking the makeshift microphone in their faces. They shared. We asked more probing questions, people cried. It was intense. We got more attention from the other passengers, or audience members, as I thought of them. Let me tell you, A, J and I could kick the asses of those chicks on The View ANYTIME. In a classic moment of talk-show banter, we asked the gentleman to J's right "So, are you from around here?", and I knew we'd truly arrived on the talk-show scene (circuit?). When we got off the train at our stop, there was a warm round of applause, and promises that people would tune in every time we "aired".

And people gripe about the lack of relevant, gripping media. Seriously: we've got substance. Also, we're cute, and we have a magical microphone umbrella. There is nothing we can't achieve...

I'm out. The show opens tonight and I have much work to do before then...