There was no waiting on this one! part finale

November 13, 2008

I promise this is the last part. I have decided to cut some of the show out because if I do not I will never be able to write about my other adventures. Be sure to read the other parts before the finale.

So, our man with the single-hair chest takes a bow and the lights turn up. Mr. Hype Man, the host, skips onto the stage and has a brief chat with our entertainer. He banters with the crowd and does his best to hype us up. He has limited success with only a few cheers and waving of hand clappers. I smell desperation. They must do something to electrify this crowd. I am sure that they have run into this problem before and are prepared for anything. But, am I prepared for anything?
Mr. Hype Man disappears for a moment, when he returns to the stage he is holding a rather large…
Actually, let me fast forward to the act that follows and then return to what our hype man was carrying. I feel like this was the true finale of the show and don’t want to be anticlimactic.
Astronauts, aliens, or gymnasts; I am not exactly sure. There are two of them. I believe one is male and the other, a female. They wear silver-sparkle spandex lined with lightning-blue and no socks. Mr. Hype Man announces their entrance and the sound of eighties synth vibrates the hall. I remember playing this same song on my Casio. What an awesome Christmas present. Well, apparently the Casio has made it to China.
Contortionist! That’s what they are! Contortionist! Oh, look at ‘em contort! How painful. I am impressed. Definitely not something I would venture into but impressive none the less. The pair is twisting and turning and balancing and front bending and back bending. Secretly, I am hoping they fall. I’m kind of a jerk. It is just that I lost interest in their performance after about five minutes and we are now twenty minutes in.
I look over at the now sleeping Fei Fei and then give Marta the lets go nudge. We catch a cab and return home. What a night.
Back to Mr. Hype Man holding a rather large mug of beer, a stein, if you will. He holds it up to the crowd, and then sets it down at center stage. He says some words and the lights cut out. The drummer gives us a role and the portly rock super star stands over the mug, a single spot light shining down upon our hero! Arms raised and looking for praise. The crowd roars “Jiayou, Jiayou!” “You can do it!”
The great porker gets on all fours and wraps his mouth around the rim. Hype man shouts, “Gan Bei!” “Bottoms up!” Our hero leans back, eyes to the sky, and beer down the throat. The crowd is cheering! Clapping and smacking their hand clappers against their knees. I’m speechless. I was speechless then and I’m speechless now. I’m exhausted and have no way to respond to this. I have laughed as much as I can laugh, I have no more!
So, what can we conclude from this night, this adventure, this once in a life time experience?
First, it turns out that this would not be a once in a life time experience. Second, what was sold to me as an opera may have contained an opera performance but was in fact a variety show. A variety show, have you ever been to a variety show? Well, for those who have not, it is a must do.
Finally, I have concluded that a variety show is an immature form of entertainment. Variety shows are prevalent in developing societies. They are a way to develop the entertainment industry. Society uses variety shows to determine what they consider to be entertaining. The current generation in China is the first to have a surplus of money and time to spend. They want to be entertained and are perhaps uncertain of their own taste. How to discover a society’s taste in entertainment? The Variety Show!

There was no waiting on this one! part 3

November 13, 2008

Have you read part 1 and 2 yet?

Intermission. I stand up to stretch my legs, take a trip to the bathroom, and return to my seat. Hand-clapper thingy in hand (mine had DBZ characters on it!), I am ready for whatever comes next…
When the drums kick in and the bass starts rumbling; the curtains flash open and Russian dancers storm the stage. Yeah, Russian Dancers! By the way, if you got that Jazz June reference you might be a music snob. Before I get to the dancers, allow me to set the stage. In the background and on a raise is a little Chinese man sitting behind an enormous electric drum set. Below him and a bit to the left is a regular sized Chinese man playing bass guitar. He is wearing a torn-70s-rocker-tie-dye-sleeveless-t-shirt, holey-80s-stonewashed-studded-tight-jeans-hyphon and a wig. Yes, a blonde metal head wig. And! This man wielded a Gene Simmons-like axe! I was so incredibly overwhelmed by this mans glory that it is impossible for me to recall or describe the guitar player’s wardrobe. In fact, I’m not sure I can properly describe the dancers.
Children cover your ears… There was one male dancer with an erotically oversized bulge and six female strippers. I am making an assumption and I am no dance critic. I can only be certain that these women were not professional ballet dancers. They dressed the part but no. No! Definitely not ballet dancers. I’m going to go ahead and make the assertion that these women were found in a Russian strip club and offered a reasonable price to tour China as a ballet dance group. As for Mr. Compensation, who knows? Maybe this was his opportunity to escape the Gulag. The opera was confusing enough but…
At this point I am very, very confused. The amalgamation of these elements and I don’t mean the mixing of metal with mercury, has sent my mind into a frenzied state of giddiness. I look over to see Marta’s jaw-dropped face and when our eyes meet we break into an uncontrollable laughter. Here is the problem. Everyone in this building is respectfully and intently watching the stage performance. I am doing my best to contain myself but during every musical break my laughter echoes through the hall.
Now, I have successfully attracted the attention of the audience on the second tier. I do not believe anyone is watching the show at this moment. But that’s ok because watching to foreigners crying from laughter is probably more entertaining than the crap-show on stage. I do my best to calm myself but the harder I try, the more I laugh. Alas, they have left the stage. A flashy dressed man charges out and raises his hand to wave and welcomes himself to the stage. Oh, he is excited. He says something in Chinese and the crowd erupts in laughter. Ah, it was a joke. He says some more words and scampers off stage.
AHH SHIT, it’s the dancers again! I can’t take it anymore. I am almost fall off the edge of my seat. I cling to the ledge like Stallone in the 1993 cliffhanger, Cliffhanger. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I am really becoming quite the embarrassment. I determine the only way to keep from peeing myself is to hold my breath and close my eyes. It works! Finally, the dancers leave the stage for the last time. The flashy dressed man returns to the stage and says some more words. The lights dim and the guitar player strums an intro.
A hidden 70s rock voice belts out a powerful note. The guitar hits the distortion, the drums pop, the bass pounds, the lights flash, and a portly man skips out to center stage. He belts out another note. On the third belting he tears open his golden-shimmer shirt to expose his supple nipple and sweaty chest hair (singular, he has one chest hair). I lower my head, forehead on forehand. I can’t handle this. I’m too exhausted. The Russians already broke me down. “I give, I give!” “Uncle, uncle, uncle!” “Stop. Please, stop.” He doesn’t, He won’t, and they love it. This is not entertainment. What is wrong with you people? What is happening here? I need a moment…