A series of mini-dramas based on public conversations, as overheard and rewritten by local playwright/director Aurora Stewart de Peña.
Overheard on the roof-top patio of The Bar Wellington.
The sun shines brightly on business district lunchers. They are dressed neatly, they talk quietly but energetically, and while they are drinking, they’re not drunk. There’s a difference.
Liora and Sofi sit at table 2.
Liora: That’s still my favourite film. The way the light looked on the moors. I’ve been there, you know–
Sofi: Me too!
Liora: Yorkshire, it’s like an ocean of grass.
Hadi and Leila sit at table 4.
Hadi: How’s your salad?
Leila: There’s too much dressing.
Hadi looks at his lap.
Leila: But it’s good! It’s totally good!
Leila takes a sip of her white wine.
Mike, Jenn and Steve sit at table 5. They are drunk. They are really, really drunk. Each one of them has a pint of Delirium Tremens sitting in front of them.
Mike: (Loudly) AND I WAS LIKE: PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY!
AND THEY WERE LIKE, “SIR, THIS IS A RESPECTABLE ESTABLISHMENT!”
AND I WAS LIKE, “IT’S A STRIP CLUB, GET OVER YOURSELVES!!!”
Jenn and Steve laugh, slapping their knees, spilling their beer. The sun glistens off the top of their heads Liora and Sofi and Hadi and Leila all stare. . People in the park below look up at them. The rooftop patio used to seem so exclusive.
Liora: Maybe he just isn’t aware–
Mike: (shaking his head rapidly so that the flesh on his cheeks makes a “motor-boating sound”) PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY!
Liora: That he’s so loud.
Hadi: (Leaning over) He’s aware.
Mike: AND SHE’S LIKE–(Mike stands up, he performs his interpretation of a sexy dance) YOU CAN’T TALK TO ME THAT WAY, SIR!!!!
Jenn and Steve laugh loudly and heartily. Jenn spits out her beer, drops land on Leila at table 4.
Hadi: (To Leila) How’s your wine?
Leila stares at Hadi.
Mike: (Now standing on his chair, pumping his fist like he’s at the Arsenio Hall show) PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY!
Hadi’s fists clench. He stands up.
Hadi: (To Leila) Excuse me.
Enter Gina, the manager of The Wellington Pub. She walks over to Mike.
Gina speaks quietly to Mike, Jenn and Steve. Everybody else on the patio is tense, chewing soundlessly, trying to listen.
Mike: (Hanging his head) Okay.
Exit Gina, followed by Jenn and Steve.
Mike gets up, he gathers his things. He surveys the sunny rooftop patio and the people on it. Nobody is speaking. He walks toward the door. He makes eye contact with Liora. He turns around.
Mike: YOU KNOW WHAT?
He gets up on a chair.
Mike: YOU PEOPLE DON’T KNOW HOW TO LAUGH!!!!
The chair’s leg gives out, Mike weaves forward, then backward, wind-milling his arms to regain balance. He does not. He falls toward the railing of the rooftop patio, but does not topple over the edge, instead hanging over the railing like a passenger on the Titanic waving goodbye to their family on the shore. He makes an audible “Oof” sound as the metal makes contact with the soft flesh of his stomach. He hangs there for a moment, contemplating his near bush with cement. Enter Gina the Manager.
Gina: We’re going to have to charge you for the chair.
Hadi, Leila, Liora and Sofi all return to their food. Nobody speaks.