Lido

Where do I begin To tell the story of how great a love can be The sweet love story that is older than the sea The simple truth about the love she brings to me This was the song used right in the middle between the huge water fountain that appeared out of nowhere and the half naked guy doing his acrobats on a white bed sheet hanging from the ceiling maybe trying to depict what life would have been hadn’t Eve eaten from that apple tree making these two scenes probably the finest but still mediocre in this tedious show called the Lido. If exquisitely beautiful exposed women and a great expensive technology were put together in an attempt to create in less than two hours something enthralling to a desperate middle aged audience, an ugly to say the least lead singer coupled with a bad seating arrangements and definitely an enormous lack of imagination came to ruin it all. With a varied selection of animals ranging from a Wooden Elephant a tiger woman and the this time real horse, to guys and girls dressed in cats and dogs and maybe wolves depending if this was intentional or just a make-up blunder of some sort on a couple of dogs, to even a cockroach passing by our dinner table, the only differentiation from your basic yearly home town Circus would be the additional 94.5 euros entry fee and some tits. This made me wonder where my 100 euros went so I started counting how many dancers are on stage and to ease in my disappointment decided to equally divide this sum on them after eliminating the vocalist whose contract I’m sure was made benevolently unless we live in a sick society who would think that a heavy British accent with a very high pitched squeaky voice fucking your ear drums can be sexy. Suddenly and again thanks to impressive technology a somehow suspended plane came over our heads to the center of the stage and without landing just stopped in the air to disembark its only passenger, no one else but you know who, and give me for a split second the hope of escape I’ve been longing for imagining I could just jump up to this flying object and disappear with it out of this suffocating place. But this didn’t happen. Instead I silently waited in the dark corner of my seat sipping what was left of my champagne bottle, closed my eyes and drifted in a creative dream of a better show filled with my own immense imagination for the remainder of the fifteen minutes after which and if you were at the Champs Elysees you could have seen a bunch of crestfallen people getting out from beneath a neon lighted sign of what should be the best show in the world. Where do I start…