Philip Escoffey & Six Impossible Things Before Dinner

A few weeks ago:

Me: There's a thing I want to see, and I want to see it before the end of January. [God, I bet he's going to think it's an exhibition]
Vay: What's this thing? And does it rhyme with exhibition? I don't know about this, I'm sort of really buggered [Cos there's no way I'm going to another one of your boring exhibitions, that's for goddamn sure]
Me: Well, I can't tell you what it is, you just have to trust me. [It's supposed to be a surprise ya bastard, so just agree to it already]

A week later:

Me: They extended the thing till February 7th, so I'm booking it for next Friday, is that alright?
Vay: Yeah, lock it in [Oh boy, I hope it's one of those Eminence concerts! Hmm, but I feel like I'm forgetting something... meh, what can you do?]

Early this week:

Vay: Hold on, is that thing we're going to this Friday? Sure it's the 5th? [Shit, I think I double-booked myself, damn, can't let her find out!]
Me: Yeah, why? [Oh my god, he's double-booked himself]
Vay: Cos there's um, this girl at work having a birthday party at Chinese Laundry. And yeah, I've been invited and that, and they invited me back in January, so yeah. [I wonder if I can go do both things, damn, why do I have to choose? I mean, it's not my fault I double-booked myself]

All hell breaks loose about who booked what first, confusion of dates, double-checking email trails of conversation, what this thing is, who paid for who, does Vay even know this girl from work?

Vay: Alright, alright, I'll go to your thing.

Friday night:

We walked to the Opera House and sat on its iconic steps. I took in the lovely, peaceful surroundings, while Vay pointed out some lady who was wearing a g-string under her dress, or rather, he pointed out the g-string, then the lady. Geez. It was a warmish, humid night, and Vay was craving a VB. (VB: The Drinking Beer. Hmm, nah, not as good as the old slogan) The performance was to start at 7:15pm, so we had a little time to eat at good ol' City Extra at Circular Quay. He was also craving a crème brûlée, but we were worried about not having enough time. (And I was pretty sure City Extra didn't do that kind of lah dee dah dessert). We were going to dine at a chinese restaurant along the esplanade, but we were joking it was mostly occupied by barang who were paying for overpriced food you could get down at your local Chinese joint. There's something about making fun of other people that brings you together. Another massive cruise ship (Royal Carribean's Rhapsody of the Seas) was leaving the port (debarking? No hun, it's departing. Ohhh, right, hee hee).

We made it back to the venue at precisely 7pm, and showed ourselves to our (pretty freaking good, I'll have you know) seats in the Studio. I was feeling quite smug, walking in and casually sitting down at the one of the round tables in the front centre of the room. (Oh, this can't be right, are these really our seats? There must be some mistake... but of course, it does say that on the ticket doesn't it? Oh well, it'll just have to do, I suppose).

We looked around the intimate space, about 15 round tables and seats in the balconies. We were close to the stage, it felt like a sophisticated stand up comedy routine. So this is where the other half go for entertainment. The freaking Opera House. Well lah dee dah. Surprisingly though, it was a mix of hip youngsters and elderly folk who still think they're with it.

Grampa: I used to be with it, but then they changed what "it" was. Now, what I'm with isn't "it", and what's "it" seems weird and scary to me.

We didn't know what to expect, well, we did sort of, (we'd seen a youtube clip), but we knew it wasn't going to be weird and scary. Or was it?

I felt excited as the grey man himself stepped out on to the stage, seeing him in person. And to think before this, I didn't even know who he was. He warmed the crowd with his tongue-in-cheek wittiness, all the while leading us on with his strangely convincing trickery. For his 6 acts (all in the space of 75 minutes), he lets the audience throw a foam brick around in order to choose his victims, and it landed close to Vay and I a couple of times, but for some reason, we didn't catch it, no thanks to Vay, who even let it go over his head on purpose. God.

At one stage the brick was caught by middle-aged gentleman beside me, and he had his turn on stage. We later thought he (a John, now is it?) was planted in the audience, but how would that explain the choices John made on stage? How, pray tell? What would have happened if Vay or I had caught the brick? Would the whole show have gone to shit? We'll never know.

Nevertheless, as the night wore on, we were thoroughly entertained, and even the skeptics were suckered in by his english charm. I looked over at Vay, and he had finally stopped crossing his arms defiantly in front of his chest, and was staring at the guy in puppy-eyed wonder. It wasn't just about some random card tricks, no, it was more about him playing upon what our beliefs were, and what we were prepared to believe was possible, and then performing some seemingly impossible, yet compelling act to confirm or deny our suspicions. I loved the way he took the piss out of non-believers and believers alike, with his last act being a particular pie-in-the-face. How do you like them apples? you can imagine him thinking.

Vay tried to explain it his brother when we got home, without giving anything away: "I saw the show, god, it was amazing". "What was he, like a magician?" "Well no, it was like um, god, it was just amazing".

Yes, we were all pretty speechless at the end of it. The only thing we could think was, how did he do it? That, and what the fuck? Oh, and the knowledge that, yes, now we're part of his club. Heh heh.