When I was younger, I loved when my Mom told me the story of a man who wore a mask because his face was deformed, that lived in the vaults of an opera house in Paris. He fell in love with a ballerina and there is a magnificent moment when he makes a chandelier come crashing down!
She left the more dark and morbid details of the story for when I was older but that never changed the way I felt about it.
So, when I found out that the Phantom was playing in Chicago during my Mom's birthday, I figured it was fate. After months and months of waiting (and singing), the weekend finally came.
For dinner we just happened to stumble across Eataly (there was no clever planning on my part, obviously).
In case you were wondering, yes, it was even better this time around but that also could be the Nutella talking.
After rushing home to change, it was Phantom time.
I know you're not supposed to judge a book by it's cover but . . .
Aren't books more enjoyable when they have beautiful bindings? Homey restaurants always have the best food? Plays are more brilliant when the theater is spectacular? Well, I don't think theaters come much more spectacular than this one.
The show was beyond words. It was everything I ever dreamed it would be and more.
If anyone gets the opportunity to see it, go! You won't be disappointed, promise!