A Review of the Pistarckle Theater Production of Equus

I saw an advertisement for the play Equus, which was being staged by the Pistarckle Theater, an amateur theater troupe in St. Thomas. My birthday fell on the same day as one of the performances, so I got the idea of flying over to see it as a birthday present to myself. I flew to St. Thomas on Saturday morning, had sushi at Beni Iguana's, and checked into Frenchman's Reef. I did nothing but go to the hotel gym and laze around for the afternoon. Part of the time I was listening to my iPod with noise-canceling ear buds. Around 5 PM I took them out and noticed that the air conditioning unit in my room was making a noise that sounded like a medium sized lawnmower was running right next to the bed. I reported it to the hotel desk, showered, and left the room. Downstairs I sat on the patio bar and had a snifter of Cruzan Rum Estate Diamond, which cost exactly as much as an entire bottle of Cruzan Rum Estate Diamond does at the Sunny Isles K Mart.

I then got a cab to Tillett Gardens, home of the Pistarckle Theater ("Pistarckle" in Dutch Creole means noise or confusion. The word is thought to have derived from “spektakel,” a Dutch word of the same meaning, which obviously shares root with the English “spectacle”). The drive took about half an hour. It was a cute little amateur theater, with just a few seats all very close to the stage. In keeping with its amateur nature it offered the playgoers such delicacies as Snickers Bars and a very fine selection of white or red Sutter Home wines in bottles the size that you get on airplanes, with twist off caps. However, I arrived to bad news. The young man who played one of the two main characters was ill. I was advised that he was vomiting violently backstage. Theater personnel were emphasizing the vomiting, probably to discourage any of the patrons from making a fuss. I was advised to wait and see what would happen. About fifteen minutes after the play was scheduled to start, they announced that the show would go on! They took my ticket money and out of the lobby and into theater we filed. Shortly thereafter the stage manager announced that the show would not be going on. I told them to keep my ticket money as a donation and went back to the hotel.

When I got back the lawnmower was still running in my room. I called the desk and was told that maintenance had checked it out, and that they needed to replace it, but didn't do so because they didn't want to be in the room when I got back and disturb me. I pointed out that sleeping next to a lawnmower was disturbing. The desk clerk asked if I wanted the air conditioner changed that night or the next morning (when I was checking out). I said that I wanted a new room. She considered the thought for a moment, as though it was new to her, and agreed. I changed rooms.

Feeling hungry, I went to one of the hotel restaurants. A couple came in and sat next to me, at a table on my left. The tables were very close together. I gathered from their conversation that they were recently married. It seemed to me that the man was making every effort to be nice. Suddenly the wife said, "Did you hear yourself? We're having a conversation and what you just said to me had nothing to do with what I said to you. You weren't responding to me!" The husband apologized and asked her to repeat what she'd said so he could respond appropriately. She said, "No, we're done. It's just that I have to teach you to communicate." I was hoping she'd go to the ladies' room so I could advise the husband to leave immediately, check into another hotel, and fly to Paraguay the next morning.

Another couple sat at a table on my right. They seemed nice, and got particularly amused when the waitress brought them a plate of nachos that appeared to have a minimum of five pounds of cheese melted over it. They offered me some, but I thanked them and declined, fearing for my arteries.

Suddenly there was a burst of activity in front of me. An older couple had been sitting there. When I looked, the wife was on all fours on the floor, running her hands over it. I waiter appeared to be assisting her. Contact lens? No, they were both wearing glasses. From the woman's wailing I deduced that she'd lost a stone on an $800 bracelet that she'd bought that very afternoon. Other restaurant personnel began to assist, as did the woman of the couple with the nachos. The bereaved woman called loudly for a broom and began sweeping around the tables, including mine, occasionally eying me suspiciously as though I'd secreted the stone among my conch fritters. A woman at yet a fourth table somehow obtained the home number of the manager of the store where the $800 bracelet had been purchased, and the husband of the purchasing couple called it on his cell phone, around ten P.M. I gathered from the husband's rather loud portion of the conversation that the manager wasn't too happy to receive the call.
And then, success! A diligent waiter finally located the stone. The woman with the $800 bracelet was happy. The woman on my right returned to her calcifying nachos. The man on my left continued to say nice things to his wife, and she continued to say things to him that made me think Paraguay probably wasn't far enough away.

As I left the restaurant, I considered the possibility that Fate had arranged this improvisational dinner theater to compensate me for the canceled performance.