Billy Elliot is in town. It gets out at eleven, and the rush is almost always good for a pedicab ride. As an aficionado of the theatre (spelled with an -re just so you know I’m not one of those non-pretentious theatre people), I feel like catching this rush sets me just a little bit above those other uncouth, philistine pedicabers.
It is a delusion I can live with.
Problem is, for me to actually be high enough in the pedicab line to catch one of the rides, I would have to get there so early that it wouldn’t be worth it. So I take a break at ten fifteen, go to the DCPA (DPAC? hell…), plant my cab at the front of the line, go to a nearby coffee shop, and pretend like I’m a sophisticated patron of the arts for forty five minutes.
But last night I didn’t get a ride from a single one of those bluebloods. Even with all my best jokes. I took some pictures with my phone, but the quality isn’t the best.
5 minutes after show lets out.
10 minutes after show lets out.
37 minutes after show lets out.
109 thoughts on “Patrons of the Arts”