We're waiting, I insist, for Rent . The same passerby again, mumbling gibberish. An aging rocker-chic escorting similars toward Penn Station. She points out a fresh-faced drama student while her friend laughs, headbangin'. We've tired of the gorgeous couple with the lawn chair snuggling.
Someone buys a can of air-freshener to fend off the urine around the stage door.
I buy a Street News to get rid of a guy and because I feel he should get something out of a show that uses street people as characters. Finally we're sold tickets. New friendships dissolve as we disperse for dinner. We're reunited like a cast party. We hoot, we cheer, we tap our feet while the suits and gowns look the other way.