When an event such as this comes with a four-course menu, I’m both excited and nervous. I don’t consider myself to have a refined palate, but I’m open minded and willing to give most things a try. I didn’t need to be worried. Each course was delicious; my favorites were the soy glazed salmon and kimchi pickles as the entree. The flavors of the appetizer, a tart, and the hot and sour soup were more complex than anything I would choose for myself, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to try something new and was pleasantly surprised. My soup and dessert were lucky enough to dance their way to me from the stage—a fun way to receive anything.
As I was getting settled in, from the beginning the cast of the show were already in character, mingling with the crowd and weaving the story that would be told throughout the night. In between acts they were there, chatting, flirting, taking pictures, wishing people happy birthday, and checking to see if everyone was having a good time.
Crowd work almost doesn’t feel like enough to describe the intimacy of the experience. The tables were close, but not packed, and the show took place both on the stage and throughout the rest of the room. It felt like you were in it, blurring the lines between something to watch and something that was happening to you, around you, above you even, and maybe that would feel a bit ominous for some.
I’m not intentionally one to draw attention to myself, but when a stunning person walks off stage to ask how your soup is and tells you that you look beautiful, it’s hard not to have an enjoyable time. Being friendly, professional, and so amazingly talented should be a crime. Madame ZinZanni/Rizo would certainly be convicted if that were the case. Her singing accompanied by the band was the glue that meshed the show together.