A Play

In normal circumstances this would be a review of a play. But these were not normal circumstances so instead it’s going to be about my experience as an audience member rather than about the play itself.

The play in question was “Antimony”. It was put on by the Stronghold Theatre Company. A bunch of people I knew were going to see it one Tuesday night, so I decided to see it too.

I managed to find the old warehouse on McKelvie Street where the play was being performed, but before I even made it to the door I saw a friend of mine walking up the street. Let’s call him Javier.

Javier was going to the nearby wine shop to get some beer, so I joined him. We ended up sitting in my car, drinking beer, and listening to Mai FM. It seemed like a very teenage thing to do.

So three bottles of beer later we decided to make our way over to the warehouse. As we approached the building we could see that the lights were out – uh oh – the play had started. We entered, promising the girl on the door that we’d pay afterwards, and caused much mayhem on our way to the seats.

The seating was those stackable platform seat things that I last saw at a school assembly when I was 12. Being the middle of winter in an old warehouse with high ceilings and no heating, it got pretty cold. I knew I shouldn’t have worn those stupid low-waisted pants.

The play had started with various images projected upon a large screen at the back of the stage. Eventually it stopped and the acting started. I started watching, following it. It seemed a little bit confusing, but not too much. Then it hit me. I needed to go to the toilet. Those three beers had taken their toll. I really needed to go to the toilet.

I sat there in the cold, dark theatre trying to concentrate on the play but being constantly reminded of my full bladder. I started dreaming about magical catheters or being able to stop time and go for a pee. But neither of those were going to happen. It became more and more uncomfortable, more and more unbearable. When I started fantasising about peeing my pants I knew I had to do something.

I didn’t know if there was a toilet in the building. It was dark when I entered so I hadn’t seen one, but I knew there was a petrol station just around the corner. I got up and went there as fast as I could. I amazed myself with my superior muscle control, as I was able to jog there. As soon as got to the petrol station I noticed a sign on the door advising people that there were no publicly available toilets. I asked the guy behind the counter if he could possible make an exception for me because, you know, I was desperate. He said no.

I continued up the hill to a park where I knew there were public toilets. They were those automated vandal-proof ones, so they’d surely be open, right? No. I don’t know why, but they were locked. I continued down the road. There was a petrol station further along and I was pretty sure they had a toilet.

Yes! Right next to the “No Nuclear Fire For Amber” sign there was a bright and shining Mobil with a nice clean toilet. It was the best pee I’ve ever had in my entire life. I vowed that my next fuel purchase would be from that Mobil as a way of thanking them for their much-appreciated toilet.

Feeling lighter and happier I made my way back to the theatre. I snuck back in and tried to catch up with the rest of the play. I couldn’t really figure out what was going on, but I didn’t really care, because I didn’t need to pee any more!

Eventually the play ended. I discovered that not only was there a toilet in the warehouse, but I wasn’t the only one who’d been busting to use it. So, really, I can’t say much about the play, but I reckon an intermission would have been much appreciated.

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