That title is actually a non sequitor up there - it isn't like Alan Rickman made me sick ~ those two topics just summarize what is on my mind right now.
Last night, Ben and I went back to see Creditors, including the pre-show Artist Talk with Alan Rickman. Getting there in time for the 6pm start time was a challenge for me, but our friends had us covered! We ended up with prime front row seating.
The talkback was fabulous. A very talented moderator led Rickman through some compelling questions that addressed his directorial works and his views on the Strindberg play. Rickman appeared to be quite relaxed and cheerful. He waxed on about the strength of his "racehorses" - the three actors in the show - and how his three directorial selections just sort of appeared and "bit him in the butt." He was careful not to reveal too much about the plot in order to save some of the surprises for those who might be seeing the play later that evening (kudos to that! I hate spoilers!)
I found it interesting when - asked about Strindberg's life - he commented something to the effect that it is not Strindberg's life that matters, just the piece of work he produced. Perhaps this reflects his own tendencies toward privacy, but personally, a person's life and the history and scope that created the work often compels me as much as (if not more than) the work itself. I work is of the life, a product of every day and each decision that artist made throughout the prior years. In my undergraduate studies, we delved into the lives of the artists to find deeper and varied interpretations of characters and plots in novels, plays and poetry based on our knowledge of the artists' own perspectives and histories. The time a person is living in when creating a work is integral to the product; future presenters do not have to remain faithful that to the time, but it matters in the overall picture.
As for the show, it was pretty much as I remembered, so my review stands. I saw it from higher up, in the bleacher seats! It's always fun to get a different perspective on a play. The audience seemed more inclined to laugh last night.
But...about 2/3 of the way through the show, I began to feel very odd. Lightheaded. I squirmed in my seat, leaning heavily on the empty chair to my right, trying to shift my weight around. My stomach felt...bloated and heavy. I thought back - I hadn't overeaten at lunchtime. I'd stayed on track with my nasty little Fresh Direct lunch.
When I stood up at the end of the show, it took me a moment to get my bearings. My knees were wobbly and I was faintly nauseous. I looked down (way down) toward, then quickly looked by to still my vertigo. I don't get vertigo. I like high places.
Ben was seated on another level from me, so I worked slowly toward our rendezvous point in the lobby, swimming against the crowd, clutching the railing as I walked down eleventy-billion small, steep stairs. As soon as Ben appeared, I latched on and whispered that we needed to go home now.
We'd planned to join our friends for dinner and chit-chat after, to discuss the play and the talk back and squee* a bit. But my world was spinning and had become more than suspect about the little cramping pains in my suddenly swollen stomach. We hastily said reluctant goodbyes and hightailed it for the train station.
Actually, we crept toward the train station. I quickly discovered that any fast movements triggered my gag reflex. It was ages before we hit the platform, but a B train appeared in no time. I rode the subway home with my head jammed between my knees, Ben stroking my back gently as he watched for our station. I don't know if I'd have made it home without him.
Once inside our apartment, I raced for the bathroom and vomited up 2/3 of the day's nasty-ass lunch - that I had eaten 10 hours earlier! Yes, apparently that meal tasted bad for a reason!
I immediately felt much better and flopped out on the sofa. I was even optimistic enough to drink some water and try the rigatoni with tomato sauce and parmesan cheese that Ben offered me.
Raise your hand if you suspect that was a mistake.
Yeah, I saw that again way sooner than I wanted. However, I think that the extra water and non-poisonous food helped my body purge the rest of the rotten food that my body had so kindly held in my stomach for 10 hours!!
(That has happened to me before, by the way ~ I once took my mom to this totally ghetto movie theater outside of Washington DC and the popcorn had this weird, greasier-than-usual butter on top. About 12 hours later, I vomited up about 1/3 cup of pure butter grease. My body digested the popcorn but that grease hung out with me for a while.)
Anyway, the night sucked after that. I couldn't keep water down. The 1/3 of the nasty-ass food that my body did digest haunted me and sent me flying from my bed to the bathroom every 10-30 minutes. At one point, I just curled up on the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor and caught a nap. My body temperature went nuts (and the extra cold night didn't help). First I whined for a hot rice bag for my feet, then I flung off the covers and sprinkled cold water over my chest and tummy.
I would venture that Ben didn't get much sleep last night either.
* the girls would be squeeing. I don't think Ben has ever squeed.
Daily Summary: Who knows!
We'll count the calories that went in.
Calories Consumed: 1,034
Calories Burned: 0
Carb (pink): 52%
Protein (yellow): 22%