Once upon a time, a long long time ago -- a little over thirteen years, to be exact -- I was eighteen years old and living in London for the summer. Well, not just living there -- studying abroad -- which basically constituted taking a bunch of art history classes and a playwriting class.
I lived in a flat -- with four other students -- in a historic building that -- according to rumor -- Shelley had lived in at one point in time. I drank beer, at pubs. I went to lots and lots of plays, and the opera, and the ballet. I shopped in the open air markets. I went to Paris. More than that, really -- I went to so many places, it would take more than a whole blog entry to catalogue the whole thing. But that's not what I wanted to write.
I was recently reminded that, in my playwriting class in London, I wrote a one-act play as an assignment. Actually, each and every member of the class wrote a play, and then, the class voted for the top three, and staged them. Mine was selected.
In retrospect, it's not exceptionally good -- but I was eighteen. And, at the time, my class compared it to Pretty in Pink, which is a compliment. (If it had been written after 1997, I would think that Dawson's Creek would have been more accurate, but whatever.)
Anyway, here's the play, such as it is.