A seasoned fool

The Fools celebrated their fifteenth anniversary of putting on their loopy, yet spot-on versions of Shakespeare's plays in Ottawa's park. (The actual company has been around quite a bit longer, but you can check the web site yourself.) That means they've done sixteen park productions, of which I've seen nine. I would have seen ten, except for the summer that my escape to Demeter took me out of town for the entire run of As You Like It, which, according to the Resident Fanboy, was superb. Damn.

On my last evening with the Fools, we squeezed our camp chairs next to a tall man sitting in a kitchen chair, effectively blocking the view of those behind him. Three rows ahead, another tall man, arriving minutes before curtain (had there been curtains), lowered himself into his "low-profile" chair, directly in front of another gentleman who had arrived more than half an hour ahead, leaving him little leg-room, and effectively blocking his view as well -- and quite a bit of mine.

'Twas ever thus.

I strolled over to the snack-and-souvenir booth and exclaimed: "Diet coke and chips!"

The girl behind the table intoned with me, in exact, unplanned synchronization: "Luxury!!"

"Sister!" I exalted.

Another volunteer asked me if I'd seen a Fools play before, and after she'd heard my catalogue, offered me a "Seasoned Fools" sticker which I wore proudly, as I returned to my seat behind the man behind the tall man in the low-profile chair.

It was A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of my favourites, and was, of course, hilarious and charming - what I could see of it.

A few months ago, I made a list of about a dozen things I will miss about Hades. A Company of Fools came third, which isn't all that significant; it was a pretty random list.