We went to church last night. The lights dimmed, and the organ began to play. We worshipped at the altar of the virgin Saint Sandy, and prayed for her deliverance from that very condition. It was an enthusiastic congregation that met at the intersection of Castro and Market streets in San Francisco. We did our recitations and sang with hearts full of joy. When the service was over, we were all hoarse and tired, but it was a good kind of tired.
Last night we went to the Sing Along Version of "Grease." To be more precise, we went to be a part of the Sing Along Version of "Grease." The people who surrounded us came to be a part of the show as well. Talking in this theatre was encouraged. Singing, and even dancing in the aisles was encouraged at this theatre. It truly was a joyful communal experience, cheering for Danny and the T-Birds and hissing at the Scorpions - especially that hussy Cha-Cha.
It was also an opportunity to acknowledge and revel in my movie-nerdness. I waited two-thirds of the way through the film to shout along with my favorite line, "C'mon Sandy, you can't walk out of a drive-in!" Couple that with karaoke subtitles for all the songs, and I had a chance to recall just how filthy the lyrics of "Greased Lightning" really are.
"In the beginning was the word and the word was with Grease and the word was Grease." (John Travolta 1:1).