Visit #9: They Check-In (But They Don't Check-Out)
Monday night’s visit started with a new mystery in Gallow Green. Mr. Sweeney and I brought along two new familiars (quite innocent of the ways of the McKittrick) and frightened them terribly with our – or should I say, my – intimate knowledge and love of the show. We had a light supper of appetizers (I highly recommend the pork meat balls and corn costinis) and drinks all around.
I chatted with Elizabeth Cullen and her dear uncle Derek Llewellyn while the band played their blend of Dixie influenced jazz and swing standards. The music, if you’ve not heard, is quite lovely and lively. If you ask the right gentleman in a seersucker suit, he may even take you for a twirl to “Boulder Buff” or “Sweet Georgia Brown.”
I was just about to take another nip of Pim’s Other Cup, when Adela Llewellyn– an unfamiliar and new lady of the Gallow Green – pulled me aside. With her tall regal baring and her large green eyes, Adela looked every bit like a 1930’s hollywood starlet who’d past her prime. She stared at me intently and asked if she could show me something special. Then, taking my hand, she led me to a place I’d never noticed before in the garden. “Wait here,” she said, “I have something I like to show to those who have frequented the McKittrick.” She disappeared behind a door. When she reappeared she said, “Can I trust you ? Do you promise not to tell?“ I nodded mutely yes, even though I was not wearing a mask yet. Then she showed me her private 1:1. Because I swore to secrecy, I can only say it was eerie and melancholy at the same time.
When the train to the McKittrick arrived at 7:30PM, I made a mental note to return soon to Gallow Green and to spend a lot more time there next time.
The great thing about forgetting is that it allows you to be pleasantly surprised. It has been over a month or so since I’d seen Sleep No More and in that time the memories of the McKittrick had faded somewhat.
Visit #13 began with the pleasant surprise of running into the fantastic Glamis and Cawdor of thebloodybusiness. Who knew they would be there? Not me. Since my leaky brain had forgotten they’d posted their attendance dates.
Next up, the Manderley Bar. Was it my memory gone wonky, or was the bar extra dim and un-smoky on Sunday night? Is the bar ever smoky? Or did I make that up? Whatever the case may be, it was nice to be in a sparsely attended bar, having a laugh with Maximilian and his new friend, Ariel DeWinter – a “companion” of Mr. McKittrick who is most certainly not Mrs. McKittrick. Her best quip of the night? “Pretty girls don’t cry,” she cooed to my SNM “virgin” guest (who happened to be a gay man), “pretty girls go shopping.”
Maximilian was in a particularly flattering and snuggly mood that eve as well. If you’ve never danced with the dashing Maximilian, I highly recommend it. This was a first for me and what a treat! He is quite light on his “loafers,” as he likes to say.
As I am a bit short for time these days, I am not going to give a full recap, but rather a few highlights from the night: