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I went on a date today.
To the Met. With Pepe. To see Don Giovanni.
Not the actual Met in Noo Yoke. No.
More like the local cinema in Dun Laoghaire. With 270 geriatechnophiles who all lapped up the performance beamed live from the Met.
I was easily the youngest person in the theater. By several decades.

I loved it.
The sound was great.
The performance was great.
The production was superb.
The people watching was second to none.

I was particularly impressed by the two grannies who looked like they were going to come to blows, over the unopened box of Ferrero Rochers that each insisted the other had to take back home.

I would have liked to see how the situation developed but Pepe was eager to get to the car park.

I soon understood why. Dozens of Micras packed to the roof with dolled up grannies were revving likes chariots from hell in the multi-storey adjacent to the cineplex.

It was scary. Very scary.

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Geriatric fantastic

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