A tall, slim figure in a garish holiday suit. wearing his trademark pencil-thin mustache, he played to a very appreciative packed house, regaling us with his sharp, off- beat monologue. There were no videos or music; just Mr Waters on-stage with his comic patter.
I wanted an image of him onstage, so I took a photo, thinking no one would ever notice, even though we'd been notified that pictures and videos were strictly forbidden. I figured that, in the spotlight, the director would never see that little, old flash from my cell phone. Guess what? He did.
As we were right aside the stage in front seats, he looked at me and firmly reminded me of the club's policy. Mr Waters asks us to unleash our inner rebels and iconoclasts. But, obviously, not when he's performing. I was secretly pleased to have unleashed his inner diva, but let a word to the wise be sufficient. Upon reflection, though, I thought it might be fun to proudly say I got 86'd at a John Waters show. After all, what could possibly offend him? Well, now I've tested the Waters so that we all know.
However, he must have cast of spell. The photo never came out after all that trouble.
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| Kevin at City Winery |
The q&a with the audience at the end of the show displayed John's ability to think on his feet and still be brilliant. He payed homage to Andy Warhol, an obvious influence, when he talked about Holly Woodlawn, who died this night in one of the show's rare touching moments.
When asked if he thought any of today's politicians had ever seen Pink Flamingos, he quipped: "Bill Clinton definitely. Hillary probably not." Then he moved on to mention what a great First Lady Bill would make. "Like our new Mamie Eisenhower!" Advice to today's rioters: "I'm with you but don't burn down your own neighborhoods! Burn down a country club!"
You gotta love this guy!
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