I was out in the garage a bit ago, relaxing for a few minutes with my daughter, when she switched the television channel to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. My mind instantly traveled back to the night nearly 35 years ago, when my not-yet husband and I went to see Rocky Horror for the first (and for me, the only) time. I loved the music, and most of the dancing, but overall the movie freaked me out. Enough so, actually, that I walked out midway through and spent the rest of the time in the lobby.
Not so my date, who became infatuated with in this strange musical, visiting it in theaters up and down California, seeing it nearly 300 times, and memorizing every nuance and every line of dialogue. Last year he and our daughter went to see a live performance in Fresno, and she said it was the most fun she and her dad ever had together. As I’m typing this I can hear snippets of song through the wall as Georgia sings along with the soundtrack of the television.
I still haven’t seen it all the way through, although I am curious as to how my reactions would change, 35 years later.
Perhaps someday I will try it again.