The Decemberists: Rollicking good show

The Norva: a big-enough, not-too-big, dark wooden floor.  Scarred and heavily coated.  Brick walls.  Big pillars that block the stage from the sides.  Two bars, one off the main floor and one up on the balcony.  Sure do like a balcony.  And old stained-glass windows on the third floor, hiding the offices. So there I am, nodding in appreciation for a good room, a good venue.  James and I got drinks and before long I needed to pee.  You know, it happens, even though you wish it wouldn’t.  Because that means being intimate with a grungy bar/show bathroom. And the weirdest thing.  I push open the swinging door to the women’s room and the mellow light inside bathes a sight that assaults my eyes with the unexpected.  Cleanliness.  Sponged on multi-colored paint without a single message from a previous user scrawled across the long expanse.  Neat tile, moldless grout.  Ten gleaming sinks in two rows facing one another, staring in each other’s shining mirrors.  And beyond, fourteen toilet stalls, each with a white toilet and more impecable, silent walls dividing them. No, this won’t be a whole post about the Norva bathroom.  I have to say, though, it was a shock to the system.  The rest of the place had the lovely darkness that refuses to divert attention from the stage, even the bars being low-light affairs. Well, I was curious enough I had to look it up.  The building is about 80 years old and was renovated in 1998.  I cannot believe that bathroom is 11 years old…they must have done more since.  Everything I read about it focuses on the 7 person jacuzzi, sauna, and indoor basketball court for the performers.  Like I care, since I don’t get to enjoy it myself!  (Sour grapes?  Perhaps.) Anyway, we sat[…]

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