A Night at the (Ice) Theatre

Last night, WestPalmBitch and I got ahold of our passports and headed to Flushing Meadows for the Ice Theatre of New York's Concert Series.  Lisa Weiss refused to go to a show in Queens despite growing up on the streets of Baltimore.  It is really a countdown to insufferability the second a bitch moves to Manhattan.  If it isn't Fire Island, they aren't leaving the grid. Sadly, it wasn't one of their galas, so we didn't get to see old ice dancers in their tan skates rocking some voidy artsy masterpieces about the five elements of life.  It was a lovely shared experience with about fifty Asians in the program.  There were a cute little brother and sister who performed solos, one to Star Wars, the other to the not Josh Groban version of You Raise Me Up previously used by Caroline Zhang.  You know her mother picked it out.

Unfortunately, the viewpoint is marred by a net and nonsensical bar.  The World Ice Arena is a fabulous venue smelling of chlorine, as it shares a wall with an aquatics center.  Fu Mingxia can learn the breast stroke and the double axel in the same trip.  Brilliant.

Sadly, the concert was the Diet Coke of the ice theatre.  I was anxiously awaiting a meeting with Jirina Ribbens, the former hench woman of Dick Button. She apparently does NOT go to Queens either. Without her, a poor trio of girls (including Alizah Allen), waited five minutes for the director to figure out which CD to play.  It was an awkward moment as they waited in an awkward three-way embrace reserved for an artsy ice theatre program for girls who no longer jump yet lack the Jamie Silverstein edges.  One knows that Jirina, who ran the world pro with an iron Eastern European fist, would NOT have allowed that to happen.  She was responsible for putting Baiul's drunk ass on the ice every year to mop up sixth place.  The ITNY cannot function without her.



Eve Chalom is still lovely, but her French-ish program to I Didn't Slip, I Was Pushed, I Fell included very literal choreography where she fell on purpose.  The jury is still out if some of the other skaters were stealing her shtick or actually falling, as one can never tell with those possessing the artistic temperament.

Unfortunately, youtube is not agreeing with showing some of the videos.  It is as though God is banning our commentary.  We were witness to a new US junior pair team on their way to Liberty.  It was a typical American pair that has been together for all of seven minutes and won't speak to on e another by mid fall.  The lack of jumping was one thing, but I always live for when American pairs attempt the side by side spins and actually try to count while one is 2 1/2 revolutions ahead.  They shouldn't stress.  The girl already was skating with a broken wrist and fell on the dismount of a lift.  They will have five more partners before they test senior and finally master that double lutz.

We were very troubled by Garrett Kling who was wearing a shirt missing far too many buttons for a pastor's daughter.    Luckily, Garrett's smooth edges, outrageous knee bend and sexual Midnight Visions left us feeling hot and bothered enough for the trip to be worth it.  My only criticism is that he did not insist on the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy finale being performed to the iconic Bette Midler version.


We will definitely return to the ITNY for one of their more beautiful galas where former stars of cruise ships and Holiday on Ice can perform tributes to the acid trip productions by John Curry.  The summer concert series is a great venue for the junior pairs of the moment, but we need to see two men performing the tango to get the full experience.  My ITNY cherry has not been sufficiently popped.

For best results, blast your volume to hear our beautiful Peggy Fleming-inspired commentary until we get a better camera.