Ah, Christmas in New York. It's a magical, exciting idea, to stroll down Fifth Avenue and let myself be dazzled by the drippy lights of Fendi, or have a latte on the steps of St Patrick's Cathedral. (I generally don't visit grounds of worship for fear that I may be struck down before I'm allowed to step foot on holy ground, but this cathedral was so pretty that I had to risk it.) I just forgot that a million other tourists had the exact same idea.
"Sure, flock to New York and congest the streets with your strollers and puffy coats, why don cha?" I'd spit in the face of a baby if a parent's stunned reaction paralyzes them and allows me to sidestep them. Yeah I'm visiting too, but I'm not stopping every five feet to furiously snap photos at every last brick. You guys spent thousands to be here, so be here. What kind of vacation would it be if all you ever remembered was looking at it through a 3-inch screen? And for fuck's sake, your baby-stroller is a tripping hazard. They should invent strollers that levitate in the air like a balloon, and if it floats away, better view for the baby.
I never knew the Rockefeller Tree was real, I always assumed they just put up a fake tree in Rockefeller Center every year. I guess I never looked too closely at the famous tree when it was on TV, 'cause honestly the word 'tree' paired with anything makes me sleepy, even if it's 'famous'. Unless it's 'tree-house', now that's a thrilling word, mostly because I never had one and have never been in one. No one owns trees in Singapore, building a tree-house would probably constitute as defacing government property. As a result, Freud would say I'm fixated. Tree-houses bring such a youthful, rebellious image to my mind, a place where little kids can be the man of their own house, away from their parents, and have kinky yet youthfully innocent explorations with the neighbor kid from down the street. Your mom'll then "drop by" and pretend that she's delivering cookies but really she just wants to check if you children are doing anything weird, because she's been young and knows what kids get up to the minute they're in a room by themselves, but since the tree-house is a fort, she'll have to ring a bell to have the step-ladder lowered, and by then all the evidence of any doctor-play have been stuffed behind pants and zippered up.
I need to stop mourning the loss of my own childhood opportunities.
So there I am, packed in Rockefeller center with a thousand other people. It's a lot less idyllic than what Home Alone 2 made it out to be. You know it's unrealistic when Macaulay Cokehead Culkin's mom can find him by the Rockefeller Tree on Christmas day cause he's the only one there. In real life the kid would be lost among that crowd, probably 'till this day where he's 30, uneducated and scavenging on the streets of New York, occasionally receiving sexual favors from Pigeon Lady. I inch my way across the plaza and looked up at the monstrous tree. It's a lot fatter in person, I have to say. Very bottom heavy, pardon my insensitivity.
My Christmas present to myself (there aren't many words sadder than these) was one ticket (oh, there we go) to the Christmas Day showing of 'Phantom of the Opera'. Like 'Chicago', I had previously seen the fantastic movie version and was thrilled to be able to see it performed live. I don't particularly like opera because it mysteriously manages to be both over-the-top yet boring at the same time. 'Phantom', however, was a classic that I enjoyed as a movie, and it must be amazing if its the longest ever running production on Broadway, ever. Still, at the back of my mind a little voice told me I should have went to see Daniel Radcliffe in 'How To Succeed' instead. I shall regret that to my dying day.
I completely enjoyed 'Phantom', especially for the elaborate sets they deployed. 'Chicago' should take notes. These people sprung for actual flying chandeliers, dungeons with floating candles, magic disappearing acts and trick-floorboards - Chicago should be able to afford more than 5 chairs and 6 feather boas. When I watched the movie, I really rooted for Raoul, but for some reason I hated him in the play. Maybe because he's less attractive- I tend to do that sometimes. Have irrational bouts of anger towards uglies. Maybe because the play's version of the Phantom is a lot more sympathetic. I have always been drawn towards stories with an unhinged, stalker-ish love affair. Clear-headed people go crazy in love, but crazies in love just become more human.
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