POST: 'The Pigeon in the Taj Mahal' - Drugs, blow up dolls, hormones and raves
What's it about?
Drugs, Blow Up Dolls, Hormones and Raves: could I get much more party fun than that?
I don't think so!
What'd I Experience?
The Pigeon in the Taj Mahal wasn't what I expected. I heard Taj Mahal and thought riches and glamour but I swear, nothing could have prepared me for the wildness on stage. The scene was set in a mentally delayed man's musty mobile home. The play was throttled by the man's sense of adventure maximized by two sexually-charged druggies who breathe 'life of the party' and trouble everywhere they go.
Onstage before me was a display of neon color which made me think: rave culture. EDC. All that fun stuff, all that dance stuff, all that teen stuff.
The main character was an old guy named Pigeon who trotted around his home carelessly reflecting on his memories. He babbled Elvis songs every five minutes, spoke of his dead mom's teeth which somehow survived a fire, and about how some girl at the Deli spoils him with extra mayo packets and napkins. I thought the stuff had no logic but realized that it wasn't senseless: it was his understanding of the world. He talked in snapshots of things he enjoyed: every sentence a photograph of joy. His exclamations translated as laughter into the audience which resulted in my own giggles and the tears of joy from the theatregoer to my right which gave me that much more umph.
The character freely tossed around his feelings, leaving nothing to spare which made the experience so authentic. He spoke exactly what he thought, but would have these fortune cookie moments where he spat a piece of advice.
Let it go.
Home is where the heart is.
We can't go on, with suspicious minds. (Elvis reference)
And suddenly in the midst of his rambles I found myself sitting before his teachings, before human values. I felt humbled in knowing this character was free of ego and focused solely on joy. I personally a shift in focus towards the enjoyable than the negative within myself. Why did I have to be brought down by negative thoughts or circumstances. Why couldn't I be like Pigeon?
Then came in me-- well not me but the characters which were definitely a representation of youth. They came in with no restraint cursing up a storm, throwing the f-bomb for every sentence and never releasing their fixation on iPhones and music. Their sense of freedom was something I identify with but I felt as if their characters exaggerated my love of freedom. They were the embodiment of freedom without boundary which is something I thought to be way too dangerous for myself.
One was drunk and passed out in the garden mumbling all sorts of nothings which made Pigeon's own rambles seem like Shakespearean Sonnets. When taken in, she introduced Pigeon to all sorts of pleasures and pollutants: drugs, molly, sex, cursing. Pigeon delighted in the new experiences which made me smile like a goofball. But their carelessness triggered a parental concern in me: how dare those teens introduce that innocent old guy to such horrible things!
Not much later her friend was introduced, who was a clone of the first personality but with a beautiful bluntness which excited me. There was her bluntness which created that excitement and her blow-up doll and its anatomically impossible pee-pee which she swung around casually. I tried hard to contain my laughter as audience members ducked trying their best to avoid the five dollar footlong blow up thing. CRUDE comedy UNLEASHED.
Double up on the adventures per character and you have Pigeon's adorably teen-like adventure which ends with him getting boozed and flashed by one character's lady-parts. And as he said goodbye I hardly paid attention to the lipstick/eyeliner on his face. I loved his adventure too much to judge his crooked eyebrows. Who knew an old person could GET DOWN like that. Sheesh Pigeon, you're quite the lady's man!