A Very Silly Show

I was very lucky this past week.

And I thought that I would cry.

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One of the things about working in a city where you are not totally bilingual is that you have to be creative with your choice of work. Teaching ESL has been much like a roller coaster, with not just the highs and lows, but also plenty of lulls where you wait for the other seats to fill up so that you can get going and actually enjoy the ride. This year, I have been lucky enough to see the vehicle start up again, taking me through three schools, several new contracts, and a little bit of money to put away for a rainy day.

But even I was not prepared for the turn that the old wheel of fortune had ready for me.

It was at the end of a long day at another office that I checked my phone, scrolling through texts and updates, and discovered a very odd message in my Yahoo! account:

This was soon followed by a message from Ticketbastard (sorry, Ticketmaster) making it absolutely clear that I had won a pair of tickets to see one of the most important comedic talents who ever lived: Mr. John “Basil Fawlty” Cleese (named appended for legal reasons).

And I almost did not get in.

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Here is the story: I taught some private students at a tech company, ate my packed lunchiner (my own term for the mess of food in my backpack, and the odd hours that I now have to finally eat). The show was scheduled to begin at 7:30, so I paused at a nearby library, read some old tomes to check on information I thought I knew cold, and then headed down in the dark and drizzle to see the show.

It was not my first time in the Village -Montreal’s Gay Village (you barely notice it until you see all of the rainbow flags and the fact that people are actually concerned about how they dress). There were the usual street kids, road construction that never seems to end, and a blocked off street that would have made a nice promenade in better weather. But it was my first visit to that particular theatre. L’Olympia is a beautiful classic building with the proscenium arch, red curtains and balcony I had not seen since I was in another very different place watching movies with the family. I’m not sure that the choice of seating was best, but I could find my spot and save the space next to me with the extra ticket I won so that I could put my bag up and allow the people next to me to share it.

And I almost did not get in.

Y’see, the tickets were sent to me via email:

I had to open up the page, have the bar code scanned, and then enter. But the bar code would not solidify on the screen.

The image was blurred out.

Was this one final practical joke to end the day?

Well, no, not exactly…

At the main ticket gate, I was informed that because I was a contest winner, I would have to pick it up from the main vendor instead of flashing my phone at the two young women waiting for patrons to get their scanning done. And I did get my physical tickets after they checked my information to prove that I was not just a gate crasher, something I would not have considered for any other performer of comedy, but it was a special night. Even my bag was searched for contraband (word to the wise: carry no leftover drinks after work if you do find your way to a theatre in Montreal).

So, I was thirsty, and I found myself, after a quick trip to the bathroom, in front of bar buying a Red Bull (not my first choice, but my energy seemed to be flagging). And I then had the most interesting talk with a barista:

“Is it your first time hearing about him?”

Well, that set me off. I embarrassed myself with a confession about work, my long-standing love of all things Pythonesque (I did manage to avoid mentioning Fawlty Towers), and how it was my first time at the theatre. And that felt good, as did seeing all of the merch at the table, including the hat that I eventually bought:

But there was one final joke:

None of our cards would work on the scanner; the merch scanner, I mean... I saw the poor woman working the table apologizing again and again about not being able to accept very acceptable credit and debit cards (my branch of banking was not spared), but that there was an ATM near the front we could use if we wanted to pay an extra fee, get a magnet, book (“Fawlty Towers” only), hoodie, t-shirt, the aforementioned - a forehead mention? - baseball cap, and an autographed poster (the latter was running at $150). I settled on the hat, but wondered about the prices of the other goods.

For those of you not in the know, Mr. Cleese is a multi-divorced man who has to cover alimony for at least three ex-wives. I sympathized and realized just how silly things could be for a man now older than my mother who is now travelling on tour showing clips from old films and TV shows to cover his expenses. Only Monty Python could have written this script, and he was living it out in real life.

But the show did go on.

After an MC who professed his shared love of Python with us spoke, Mr. Cleese came out to thank us and we watched “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” and I had my next moment of silliness: I truly thought that the night in question would be just an interview and then a question-and-answer period with the audience. Well, we did get all of that, and a film that I admit I had never seen on the big screen, only at home with a family who did not get the jokes. The audience, mostly of my generation or older, probably had more experience in the theatre with the films, was ready for it. I was ready for it, and I still fell about laughing during the slightly-unfocused credits (I must travel to Sweden one day...and Spain), the first coconut debate, the taunting at the castle, the songs, the temptations of Castle Anthrax, a killer rabbit, the Bridge of Death and the ending which makes no sense and perfect sense at the same time (Cleese verified a continuity error that always bothered me). Very wonderfully silly.

And then Mr. Cleese came back, answered questions about the above and “Fawlty Towers,” and left us thanking him for improving our “miserable existence(s)” by appearing at the show (his words, folks). It was somewhat sad to confirm that he no longer speaks to certain members of the old troupe (hello, Mr. Idle), or that he is not a fan of the culture of hypersensitivity around the film mentioned or in comedy in general (seriously, I am not going to provide links to all of the above controversies, you empty-headed bottom wipers; make an effort and search it out yourself). But I will always have the chance to say that I did get to see one of my idols up close and almost personal.

Now, go away or I will praise him a second time...

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