Even idiots who’ve drunk two hundred thousand shots of tequila the night before have to show up for work the next day. There I was, sitting behind a foldout table, trying not to puke. “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee.” Sandy’s whining was as uninspired as ever. The directing was a mess and the miscasting so irredeemable that the audience seats were practically empty despite all the comp tickets that had been handed out. I mean, look, no one was exactly asking for the ten millionth Grease revival. (Although this is coming from a guy who’s fine with going to the same restaurant and same café for every date, as long as it’s with a new man.) My only job in this graveyard was to stifle my yawns and catch what shuteye I could despite the horrendously loud music. Even in that dump, I occupied the bottommost pit. I wasn’t in the cast, production team, or marketing, I was just the lowest of the low sitting glumly by the theater entrance, selling programs nobody wanted. In a whole month I must’ve sold just 400,000 won’s worth, not even half my salary, which meant I’d be fired soon. What was this torture, sitting here on a Sunday night when all the normals were resting at home? Not to mention (to anyone) my running to the bathroom twice during the first act to throw up. My body itched to toss aside the programs and just go to bed, but Jaehee, my best friend from college, happened to be the one who got me this plum part-time job, and I couldn’t let her down. The producer was some oppa she knew—I think they had slept together years before. Anyway, act 2 was about to begin, and what was that guy still loitering around the lobby for? I moved my ass, heavy as a planet though it was, over to where he sat.

—Sir, the intermission is . . .

The man looked up. Oh, wait a minute, this guy is familiar. That bartender from yesterday?

—Hey, you’re the guy from the club last night, am I right?

—I think you are.

—Wow, coincidence! Are you here for the show?

—No. I’m here for you.

Damn. What’s up with this guy? Does he like me? was what I could’ve thought, but I’m truly excellent at knowing my damn place in this world.

—Well . . . They won’t let you in for the next fifteen minutes if you don’t go in now.

He repeated that his only reason for being here was to see me. (Why, to sue me?)

—How did you know I’d even be here?

He’d seen a photo of the Grease tickets I’d given Ji-yeon on his Instagram.

#musical #grease #VIPticket #goodSeats #youngsGift