Closing the Fringe with Mom - Part 8
Baseball, Dogs and Motorcycles
Mom says, "He has a very unique and positive view of the world."
Had Gilgamesh actually been 90 minutes, there would have been no way we could have done this. But I managed to get us downtown, dump Mom off in front of Hey City ("I'll slow down, now, quick! Jump! Tuck your shoulder and roll, Mom!"), ditch the car in the Block E parking ramp, and link up with Mom in line (the VERY LONG line) on the sidewalk outside of Kevin Kling's last performance in the Fringe for this year.
This is where reservations are a must - it's worth buying a pass and/or paying the reservation fee. The line moved fast because those hoping to get in quickly had their hopes dashed by the fact that pretty much the only folks getting in as the house doors opened were those already on the will-call list (a list of many pages attached to a clipboard in the hands of a very patient, apologetic and yet nonetheless efficient Fringe staffer - a list that had nowhere near enough room for the scores of people waiting on the sidewalk).
Of course, once in, you had to find a seat. A tough assignment. We ended up sitting off to the right of the stage, with a fine view of the back of Kevin's head, and a little profile now and again. But it really didn't matter. Those stories would have been great entertainment even if all we could do was hear him, like on the radio. Still, it was great to see Kevin on a Fringe stage again from any angle, after the accident that cut short his run of 21A in the 2001 Fringe. Greater still to hear the laughter and participate in the well-deserved standing ovation he received at the end of the adult equivalent of story hour.
Couldn't give my Mom the full Fringe experience if she didn't see Kevin Kling in action.