The fuzzy certs.

When my friend Jenny told me that she was singing in an opera, I thought, "cool. I've never been to an opera." So I decided to go. Cool story, huh?

So. Saturday night. Provo center street. Covey Center.

La . . .

Megan was lucky enough to be my date (what a surprise, right?). She's the best date. We got all dressed up and looked very cute because Megan had stopped by our favorite store on the way down, Lisa's Closet (kind of like Plato's Closet, but with way cuter clothes). As we were getting ready, we said to each other, "are you hungry?" And as neither of us were really hungry at all, we had a quick shopping spree for shoes (found none) and then headed over to the theater.

As we sat down, we noticed something: We were hungry. 7:30.

We also noticed something else: our neighbors. Notice the chandelier shirt. So great. Every time I would look to my left (for some reason they all changed seats in the middle of the opera and chandelier shirt ended up right next to me), it just made me happy. And then I'd look at Megan and we'd both laugh. Maybe you had to be there.

Now, like I said, this was my first opera, and I'm not really sure what I was expecting. I mean, I know what an opera is, right? It's singing. It's a story about people who are most likely in love and there's some sort of conflict and a resolution, and it's all in singing. So don't ask me why it surprised me that that's all there was: singing. Lots and lots of singing. By 8:45, hunger had gotten the best of us, and the amazing performance going on in front of us was totally lost on our stream of Gilmore Girl-related hunger jokes. Luckily Megan found some Cafe Rio mints in her bag.

But there were a lot of things that I did appreciate about my first (and let's be honest, probably my last [I don't have the right attention span for this level of culture. Maybe if I were properly fed beforehand, it'd be a different story, but how can I dare risk it?]) opera:

-Some people are just crazy talented. Seriously! I've never before thought of the voice as an instrument, but these singers can just belt it out or trill along like it's nothing. I wish my voice could do that, or anything even close to that.

-The scenes in La Traviata are set in France. Paris, to be specific. And who could not love that?

-I have played in many an orchestra, including the pit orchestra for two different musicals in high school (Cinderella and Bye Bye Birdie), and I have never (seriously never; it's never even crossed my mind) considered how difficult it would be to be a conductor and have to keep yours arms going like that for hours on end. How do they do it?

-I enjoyed trying to figure out some of the Italian words, and I was glad that to be able to decipher a few words. Sometimes, however, it just sounded like a badly mispronounced French word, and that would just make me laugh.

-You just have to appreciate sentences that take that long to get out. Why don't we all speak in song?

Anyways, it ended (our stomachs thought happily), and after telling Jenny how great she did (seriously impressive, right? Who else can say that they've been in a real live opera?), we booked it over to Texas Roadhouse, where we ate our body weight in rolls, ribs, and rrreally good fries (take that, alliteration).

Lessons learned:

1. Operas really are what they seem.

2. Don't go to an opera on an empty stomach.

3. Texas Roadhouse is open until 11:00 p.m. on Saturdays.

4. Megan is a great date. (Now as for a great speed date, I don't know. Yes, that's an inside joke. No, I don't care that you won't get it.)