New York Request and Dedication Party (Abridged version) [This was the version that was sentout over the net right after the events related. The sole editing was the removal of the name of one of the adventurers by that same adventurer.] In the grand tradition of Broadway, I've decided to give you all a very special edition of the Request and Dedication Party this week. I call this one: The New York Trip: The Musical. Cast: Christine Faltz, Shalott, "Guido/Russell", Jimmy Russell, Patrick Stewart, "Merlin Missy" Wilson, the Nameless One [anonymity assured, Karen] and Alex as himself. First, perhaps I should relate the events leading up to the trip, the people who said they might, the ones who said they would, the valiant struggles for a good seat with Ticketmaster, the heartbreak of maxed credit cards, the frenzied email messages flying across cyberspace among the Final Four: The Nameless One, Christine, Shalott, and me. On second thought, nah. *** Come Wednesday to the tune of: Come Monday by Jimmy Buffet sung by: the New York Four *** Come Wednesday, it'll be all right. By nightfall, we'll be holding him tight. We'll spend three lovely days On a manhunting craze, Just to be there by his side. *** It was a rushed morning. Mom had to be at a meeting at 8, when we wanted to be on the road. It was a mad scramble for the bathroom, but we all made it, and at 8am, Dad, Dad's business partner Rick, and I were piled into the truck and on our way to Lancaster. It's 9:30, still two hours from when the train leaves. We're almost to Gettysburg (Hi Kit!) when Dad realizes we've missed our exit. We turn around. We get lost. At 10, we pull into a McDonald's in Taneytown (the wrong way) to figure out what had happened. Turns out we hadn't passed the exit yet. *** In our Glove Compartment to the tune of: How Many Roads by Peter, Paul, and Mary(?) *** How many roads must my dad drive down, Before he admits that we're lost? And how many cups of hot tea must I drink Before my bladder pays the cost? How many jokes must Richard repeat Before out the window he is tossed? The answer, my friend, is in our glove compartment. The answer is in our glove compartment. *** Well, we finally found the train station, with time to spare. After a while, we went outside to get the bags, and lo! When I returned, there was a woman wearing a black Dixon Hill fedora waving wildly from the other side of the roo m. The Nameless One! I ran over and we hugged and did introductions. Then: *** Leaving on the Next Train to the tune of: Leaving on a Jet Plane by John Denver sung by: The Nameless One and Missy lyrics by: MM:) *** All our bags are packed and we're ready to go, We're waiting here for the train to show, Just as we meet, it's time to wave good-bye. But the noon is coming, been driving since morn, Two days of delight are waiting in store, Already I'm so excited I could cry. CHORUS So don't curse us, but hope for us, Send your warmest thoughts for us, Pray that You Know Who will make it so. 'Cause we're leaving on the next train, don't know when we'll be back again, Oh I can't wait to go. There's so many times I've dreamed this day, So much I've wanted to see this play, I tell you now, oh that man can sing! Every place we go we'll think of you, Every word to him, we'll say for you, When we get home, we'll describe everything. CHORUS Well now the time has come to depart, One more time, wish with all your hearts, Then close your eyes and we'll be on the way. Dream about the days to come, Perhaps PS might feel alone, And Friday afternoon, we'll hear him say: Oh kiss me, and smile, you two, Let me take the train with you, Hold me close, and never let me go. 'Cause we're leaving on the next train, Don't know when we'll be back again, Oh I can't wait to go. *** And we were off. We spent the next three hours munching Fig Newtons, singing, laughing, telling life stories, comparing shoes, and generally annoying the heck out of our fellow passengers. We made plans as to what we would do with a certain gentleman should we encounter him. The Nameless One read out the description of the Paramount Hotel from her tour book, including "The floating staircase," and "The fresh-faced young doormen in their black jackets and white tee shirts." Long before we hit New York, we were counting down the hours. It's a wonder they didn't toss us off the train in Philadelphia. We finally arrived in New York, jumped off the train, went up and down stairs and escalators and such, made it to the street, and got a cab to the hotel. A fresh-faced young doorman opened the door for us, and we were in. No sign of Shalott or Christine by the floating staircase, so The Nameless One checked in, and I sorta stood there. Then, two women walked in nonchalantly, as if they were just walking through for fun, out for a stroll one might say, without looking for anyone. The dog gave it away. A quick chorus of "I'm Dreaming of a Bald Captain," revealed the PSEB's in the group. After much hugging and more introductions, and a quick tutorial (Don't pet the dog), we went into the elevator. The Nameless One's room was on Deck 8, of course. Within an hour, we were all fast friends, doing much as The Nameless One and I had on the train, namely laughing, talking, and most of all, planning our attack on PS's dressing room. Then we went to inspect the theatre, which was literally right across the street, and that a one-way street. We found the stage door, took pictures of the marquis, and generally staked out the general area. Then we went to dinner at Sofia's, a nice little Italian place two doors down from the hotel. *** Two Doors Down to the tune of: Two Doors Down by Dolly Parton sung by: the New York Four *** Two doors down, We're laughing and eating and talkin' 'bout Patrick. Two doors down, They're gonna boot us out of town. The show tonight Is our favorite topic of conversation We're talking about email Just two doors down. *** The food was pretty good, but the desserts left something to be desired. We determined that the correct pronunciation, as given by Christine's synthesizer, is "seb;" the P is silent, as in "psychotic." After dinner, Shalott had to go home to work on her thesis. Christine went back to the room, while The Nameless One and I went to pick out the flowers for Patrick. We walked about six or seven blocks to the flower shop. It was closed. We swore. So we walked back. On our way, we went into a drug store for toothpaste, and (seriously!) this song came on the overhead radio: *** The Tide is High by: Blondie *** Oh, the tide is high, But I'm holding on. I'm gonna be your number one. Number one. Number one. Every girl wants you to be her man, But I'll wait, my dear, till it's my turn. I'm not the kind of girl Who gives up just like that. Oh no! The tide is high, but I'm holding on. I'm gonna be your number one. Number one. Number one.. *** We figured it was a good sign. It was. As we turned the corner to the hotel, there was a limo parked outside of the stage door. We ran (well, I ran. The Nameless One kept her dignity) across the street, to where a huge crowd gathered. We asked two young women there from Alabama, and they said that 1) they'd tried before when he was on Letterman for an autograph, 2) he was coming, 3) he wouldn't sign any Trek stuff. The Nameless One stayed, and I ran to get Christine. When we returned, The Nameless One had made friends with some of the people there and had advanced the cause. *** What in the World Am I Gonna Do to Meet You? to the tune of: What in the World Am I Gonna Do About You? by Reba McEntire sung by: The Nameless One *** The girls said I'd meet You standing on the street. I hope you come soon; I've got aching feet. The time's passing by, it's almost time for the play, And everyone thinks that you're on your way. There's a girl from the South Tried an autograph twice. I haven't tried yet, But I'm hoping you might. Then down at the light I thought I saw you turn down, And then I knew why I had come to this town. CHORUS: What in the world am I gonna do to meet you? I can't just let him slip away into the blue. And I try, and I try, And I just can't think my chance's through. What in the world am I gonna do to meet you? What am I gonna do to meet you? Went to the store, And it's good that I tried 'Cause I might have missed Those limousine lights. Off to the side, I thought I saw you walk in, And that's when the squidgies started over again. CHORUS *** Then his limo arrived, and we were right there when it did. The mob surged. I managed to touch his jacket, leather. I was happy. Christine didn't get to him, but The Nameless One did. A touch was good. A touch was wonderful. He only smiled a little, though, and he didn't turn around or say anything when we asked him to say something to Christine, who meanwhile was struck with the mysterious inability to shout: "Oh Captain, My Captain!" He disappea red into the stage doors, and we were left on the street. We went back to the hotel room, and Christine and I prepared for the show while watching him on EXTRA. After EXTRA, Christine and I went to the show while The Nameless One worked on her dress. The Nameless One being the best describer of the group, I'll let her review of the play stand as what happened. I should also mention a less pleasant part of the performance. Alex went with us everywhere, and of course he went to the theatre to see the play. It was a given that he would go. He sat at our feet, and although he was crowded, and although he certainly had to pee badly, he behaved himself better than any other dog I've ever known. He was a good boy. The people who sat next to me did not think so. He moved a little during the show, and the woman next to me asked us to move him, because she couldn't fit her feet. We moved him. During intermission, the man (on the other side of his wife) said quite loudly "Maybe I should light up a cigarette to annoy you! I'm allergic to dogs." It should be pointed out that there had not been a sniffle from either of them before this. We all got out of the row, and Christine and I went across the street to the hotel bathroom. No line, and the fresh-faced young doormen liked Alex. I suggested that we leave Alex in the room, but Christine pointed out that then they would win. We went back in, to discover our two favorite people still in the row. They wouldn't make room for us to get in, so we had to go around the other way. Then we began to make loud noises about loving to go outside for a cigarette break, and wasn't it a pity that it was illegal to smoke in the theatre, and that Christine would have to make a note to be born sighted in her next lifetime to be sure that she didn't inconvenience anyone. Anyway, the performance started again (and again I'll let The Nameless One's description take it away), and now both of them were hacking and coughing in a way I hadn't heard since we swore-sneezed in high school. About twenty minutes into it, right after the part where Bob Cratchit says how Tiny Tim had wanted to go to church because "he wanted to remind everyone of the man who had made the lame walk and the blind see." They came back about a half-hour later, *him* next to us this time. No more sneezes or coughs. The show ended with three callbacks to a standing ovation. Then, we went outside to see him at the stage door. The Nameless One had already parked herself by the car, while we stood on the opposite side and tried not to get trampled: *** Standing Outside in the Cold to the tune of: Silver Threads Among the Gold by Andy Williams (?) sung by: Christine and MM:) (The Nameless One was busy getting in good with the cop) *** Patrick, I am growing old. Standing outside in the cold Is not the way I wish to die. Please come out here by and by. But my darling, you will ever seem Someone stepping from a dream. Yes my darling, you will seem Someone stepping from a dream. Patrick, I am growing cold. Please come out, before I'm old, Through the stage doors, by and by. Then I am allowed to die. *** The door opened and shut and opened and shut, and a guy wearing a long jacket walked in and out and asked us to clear a path for Mr. Stewart. The Nameless One and the people near her dubbed him "Guido." He instantly became a part of legend. We cleared a path, but people kept pushing forward every time the door opened. A few people went out towards the limo, and the crowd parted just to surge back. Once, the door opened to release an older gentleman and a woman. They walked right past me, to shouts of "Hi Tony!" I asked someone who it was. "Oh, that was Tony Randall." Ooops. Finally, after a half hour, he stepped outside, and the crowd attacked. We were pushed all over. Alex was stepped on, *we* were stepped on, it was a mess. We got close enough to speak to him. I told him that we loved him. Christine said how impressed we were with his acting abilities. He thanked her. As he moved off, I touched his jacket, and moved Christine's hand for her to touch him, too. A space opened up to him, and I pushed her towards it, but we couldn't hold on, so she was beside him on her own. Meanwhile, back at the car, The Nameless One was face to face *wink wink nudge nudge* with Patrick, and she told him about the Brigade, and he smiled at her, then signed the playbill of the idiot woman who pushed it on top of The Nameless One's copy of A Christmas Carol. He thought he was signing for The Nameless One. All this, and everywhere the shouts of "Oh Patrick!" from men and women alike, acting like children. It was pathetic. We went back to the hotel, peeved. Christine and I gathered what I would need , and The Nameless One graciously offered the use of her luggage carrier, without which I would not have survived. With wishes good-night, we left. We caught a cab to the subway station, and via a long and convoluted route I won't subject anyone to, other then to say that we walked the last half mile with a luggage cart and Christine's bleeding feet. *** I Think It's Gonna Rain Today by: Joe Cocker sung by: Christine and MM:) *** Broken windows, and empty sidewalks, Pale dead moon in a sky streaked with grey. Human kindness is overflowing, And I think it's gonna rain today. Scarecrows dressed in the latest styles, Frozen smiles that chase love away. Human kindness is overflowing, And I think it's gonna rain today. Lonely, so lonely. Tin can at my feet, Think I'll kick it down the street, That's the way to treat a friend. Right before me, the signs implore me: "Help the needy and show them the way!" Human kindness is overflowing, And I think it's gonna rain today. *** We then wrote up The Nameless One's summary of the day's events, *our* summaries of the day's events, and mailed them to the SoL. By this time, it was 2:45. Christine got into the shower, while I napped for 15 minutes. She got out, I got in, and then it was time to go back. We walked back, this time minus the luggage cart and the awful shoes, and made it to the subway. Due to an error in judgement, we cooled our heels for twenty minutes between trains, and made it to the hotel at 6:30. We took a cab to Rockefeller Center, where there was already a large crowd at the Today show window. Not to be deterred, we opened the banner and held it aloft for the world to see for all of about ten seconds. It was only for longer during the weather reports, and in the window with Bryant Gumbel, but for the most part, the only ones who got a good look were the people in front of us, who muttered to themselves: "Estrogen Brigade?" After about twenty minutes to a half hour later, we were frozen and tired, so we went across the street to Dean and DeLuca's, a chain of coffee shops. I decided that since we were across the street from NBC, we should put the sign in the window just in case the cameras passed that way. Did I mention the *bi g* balls in the middle of the street? I don't think I did. We got pictures. That's all I'll say. After that, we went to the flower shop, only to discover that the flowers we wanted weren't in season for the most part. Therefore, we ordered a bouquet made by the florist, wrote out the card, and hoped for the best. *** They Don't Have Our Flowers to the tune of: You Don't Bring Me Flowers by Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand sung by: The Nameless One, Christine, and MM:) *** They don't have our flowers. He can't see our love-blooms. He'll hardly notice us anymore When we stand near the door When he tries to come in. I remember when ... He was just an actor, Playing Gurney Hallek, Now after playing Scrooge late at night ... Well it's some grand show. We'll be feeling all right. Well he just goes home after the last stage light. And they don't have our flowers at the store. It used to be so natural To talk about our big plans, But used to be's don't count anymore. They just lay on the floor Till we sweep them away. Patrick, I remember all the things you taught me. I learned how to laugh, and I learned how to cry. I learned how to love an impossible guy. So you think I could learn How to tell you "Be mine." And they don't have our flowers at the store. Yes, you think I could learn How to tell you "Be mine." He don't say he knows us, He can't read our love-blooms, 'Cause they don't have our flowers at the store. *** Afterwards, The Nameless One went off in pursuit of shopping delights, and Christine and I went back to the room and died for an hour and a half (other than when Alex thoughtfully woke us up whenever he heard a noise. Gr.) The Nameless One returned, and we went to lunch at the hotel restaurant. The soup was good, but I've tasted better food in our dining hall (on good days in our dining hall, I should add). Then, we readied ourselves to meet him before the matinee. We went outside. No limo. No people. No matinee. Damn. Just then, a woman walked up to the stage door, knocked, and gave something to someone inside. We looked to ourselves, and were about to knock when a man stepped outside. This was Jimmy Russell the great and wonderful, Jimmy the not-so-young-and-fresh-faced- doorman who was the greatest help in the world. He talked to us, told us the best time and place to be, and we explained our situation (and yes, Christine, we did say your name several times in his presence). He was kind and friendly, and didn't do that "well, I'll see what I can do" deal, and he spoke kindly of PS. We had to get him flowers. He also told us that Guido's real name was Russell. We went back to the hotel, called Sandra, related the news. The Nameless One went upstairs to crash a little before the play. Then Christine and Alex and I went hunting Patwicks. We got some flowers for Jimmy in a little flower shop (four blur irises, two yellow lilies, and baby's breath), and heat and sodas in a cafe somewhere around 60th street (based on PS' story on Letterman, we figured he lived somehwere around Fifth and 61st.). At the cafe, Christine mentioned a letter she'd written to Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, and as I sit at my little computer, I pull off the top magazine on my stack of IASFM to discover that issue (February 1991 for you SF geeks out there). This just goes to show once again that this trip was destined for all of us. We passed another Dean and DeLuca's as we got back to the hotel, and as Christine called Shalott, I realized that I hadn't taken the sign out of the window that morning. A quick run up to the room confirmed it: no sign. Back down the elevator, and I had one of the fresh-faced young doormen hail me a cab to NBC Studios. The sign was long gone. *** I Lost the Sign to the tune of: I Saw the Sign by Ace of Base sung by: MM:O *** I lost the sign, And it nearly blew my mind. I lost the sign. (Staples won't bill me, But The Nameless One's gonna kill me!) I lost the sign, Right there before my eyes. I lost the sign. "No one's gonna speak to you If we can't give it to him like it belongs." *** I ran across the street to Software,ETC. No computer paper, but the guy there directed me to Staples. I got a ream of paper, and offered all the money I had left for ten minutes on a computer. It took an hour, and it refused to print, but a nice man named Jay stayed well after his shift ended to try and get it right. No dice. I bought some markers, and he gave me a good stack of the paper, and wished me luck. No cabs were available, so I ran back to the hotel to meet Christine and her friend Dan for dinner at Sofia's. It was 5:10 when I got there. I made the sign while we waited. We had soup, because we could get it *then*, and then, by a process I'm still unsure of, Dan followed us up to the room. I got ready, and The Nameless One, who had skipped dinner to have the time to ready herself, graciously allowed him to stay for the time being. Finally, it was 6:30, and we went outside to wait for Him. Shalott arrived as we regaled some guys who were Shatner-bashing (they'd met him, asked him for a n autograph, to which he had responded "F*ck you") with the 100 Reasons List. We also chatted with Russell and handed Jimmy his flowers. He was embarrassed, and told us to give them to Patrick. We told him that we already had flowers for Patrick. *** Before It Gets Too Late to the tune of: One Promise Too Late by Reba McEntire sung by: The New York Four lyrics by: MM:) *** We could've waited forever Since we knew that you'd be here. We'd stand and huddle close together And tell the others about this for many years. But we met Jimmy before you, And he told us where to wait. So no matter how much we adore you, Whatever's next will be left up to fate. CHORUS: Where are you, now we're here to love you? Where are you? Russell says you're on your way. All this week, we've dreaming of you. Will you come along, before it gets too late? Will you come before it gets too late? We'll never say that we're sorry that we met you. We can't have you, but we never will forget you! CHORUS *** Jimmy said, "I wonder when Jean-Luc's getting here," to which we responded: "We don't know when Jean Luc's coming, but Patrick should be here soon. We know the difference." And he came. Oh, he arrived in a limo like the night before, dressed in jeans and sneakers and that leather coat. Shalott was there first, with her playbill and pen at the ready, and he signed it for her, and said "This is your pen." Then I walked up to him, and told him that there were four of us there from his Estrogen Brigade, and that we'd like to present him with our banner (which we couldn't open due to the people). Then I stuck out my hand and I guess he responded by instinct, because he shook mine. Oy. He turned to sign stuff on the other side, and I grabbed Christine. She held out her hand, and he said: "I'm over here," in that voice. I think she can tell it better than I can, how he apologized for the crowd, and the noise and the riot, how he bent down to talk to Alex. He told him to take care of her, and for her to take care of him. Then he said it had been nice to meet her, and he moved away. The Nameless One nearly missed him, but she tugged on Russell's arm, and got The Signature for her efforts. We walked away in a daz e. *** I Got to Shake His Hand to the tune of: I Want to Hold Your Hand by the Beatles sung by: Christine *** Oh yeah, he told me something, He said "I understand." And I, I got something, I got to shake his hand, I got to shake his hand, I got to shake his hand. "Let me apologize," he said to me, "That things were so unplanned, That people pushed you into me, So let me shake your hand. Now let me shake your hand, I want to shake your hand." And when I touched him I feel squidgy inside. It's such a feeling that my lust I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide. Yeah, he's got that something, The perfect gentleman, And I, I felt something When I shook his hand. I got to shake his hand, I got to shake his hand. And when he spoke to Alex, I almost cried. With such a feeling from my love That I sighed, that I sighed, that I sighed! Oh yeah, he told me something, He said "I understand." And I, I got something, I got to shake his hand, I got to shake his hand, I got to shake his hand. *** Then we went to get tickets. Mine hadn't arrived, and Christine and Shalott needed to pick theirs up. Due to the idiots at Ticketmaster, Christine didn't have tickets to pick up --- she had somehow gotten tickets for "A Christmas Carol" across town. The good part about all this was that, right behind Christine, Paul Provenza stood, and The Nameless One recognized him from conversations around him. Eventually, Christine went back to the hotel, and The Nameless One and Shalott and I got separated in the crowd. Fortunately, our seats were close enough to shout easily. Shalott, with the worst seat, got the binoculars. The show was excellent. Again. There were a few changes, but I could appreciate them, and the unchanged parts, too. After the show, Shalott parked herself outside to see if she could get another autograph, while The Nameless One shuttled back and forth between the hotel lobby, where Christine and I sat, and Shalott. We all finally went up to the room, changed, and immediately got hungry. We inspected the various New York guides, picked a few likely places, and went. JR's had no nonsmoking section. We took a cab (and walked five blocks) to another place where a bowl of soup cost more than a meal back home. We caught another cab, and ended up freezing at Howard Johnson's, where the waiter wouldn't let Alex in. We prepared to sue while he went back to ask his manager. He seated us, and we had breakfast at midnight. Shalott had to leave, so we had hugs good-bye, and then Christine and I had to leave, so The Nameless One went one way, and we went another in search of a subway station. In between various stops, we encountered a woman who made Alex growl and bark. I wasn't sure what to do, but Christine trusted Alex. The woman stayed away. We got back to her place around 3. I crashed until 9, and you know, I never met Marshall. Personally, I think she has PS in her bedroom and just isn't telling. Quarter of twelve came soon, and Christine walked me to the bus stop. With one more hug, and PS's words to Alex, I got on the bus, and somehow made it back to the Paramount. The Nameless One had already checked out, so we waited in the restaurant, then decided to try for a picture of Jimmy. Sadly, he didn't get there until 3. We went to Penn Station, and after some troubles with the stairs, hopped on the train. I'm afraid that I fell asleep a few times on the trip, to be awakened with occasional "Marley's Ghost," "The P is silent," "concierge," "Guido," and "fresh-faced young doormen." We parted at Lancaster with a hug, and went our separate ways. And now, the requisite Big Broadway Finish TM: *** Anything for Love (And It's All for Pat) to the tune of: Anything for Love by MeatLoaf sung by: the New York Four, PS, Jimmy, and Russell *** I would do anything for love. I'd ride up to New York and back. I would do anything for love; I'll never lie to him, and that's a fact. But I'll never forget the way he looks right now Oh no, no way. And I would do anything for love, And it's all for Pat. Yes, it's all for Pat. Anything for love, Oh, I would do anything for love! I would do anything for love, And it's all for Pat. Yes, it's all for Pat. And some days, the ghosts come easy, And some days, the crowd is hard, Some days they don't come at all, And these are the shows that never end. And some nights, he's dating Nancy, And some nights, a Wendy's nice, Some nights it's a woman we've never seen before. Or will again. Maybe I'm crazy, But I loved his Tiny Tim. I know he can save me, No one else can save me now but him. As long as the planets are turning, As long as the stars are burning, As long as our dreams are coming true. You better believe me ... That I would do anything for love, And I'll be there till the Second Act. And I would do anything for love, I'd give the Earl Grey I packed. But I'll never forgive myself If we don't meet him here tonight. And I would do anything for love, Oh I would do anything for love, Oh I would do anything for love, And it's all for Pat. Yes, it's all for Pat. I would do anything for love, Anything he's be dreaming of, And it's all for Pat! And Thursday, we'll call up Sandra, And Thursday, we'll write the SoL, Thursday, we'll meet up with the Captain Who makes the Looooove Ship rock and roll! And Thursday, we'll get *that* feeling, And Thursday, we'll lose control, And Thursday, we would lose a lot more To watch him dance, hear his thunder (under under under) roll. Maybe he's lonely, But he doesn't have to be. There's just one and only, One and only promise we can keep. As long as the show is playing, As long as it's Broadway-staying, As long as our wishes all come true, You better believe me ... That I would do anything for love, And you know it's more than just a fad. I would do anything for love, And we'd never leave him feeling sad. But we'll never have another chance To meet him, for a year is so long, so long. And I would do anything for love. Oh, I would do anything for love, I would do anything for love, And it's all for Pat. Oh, yes, it's all for Pat. I would do anything for love, Anything he's been dreaming of, And it's all for Pat! But I'll never stop dreaming of this Every night of my life. No way ... And I would do anything for him, Oh I would do anything for love, I would do anything for love, And it's all for Pat. PS: Would you help me up? Would you hold me down? Will you show me my way Around this in-your-face town? Can you make it all a little less cold? Us: We can do that! Oh, we can do that! Russell: Will you wait in lines Will you wait the night? Can you stay where I tell you; I'm so sick of fans who fight! Can you make it all a little less old? Us: We can do that! Oh, now we can do that! Jimmy: Can you be here at 6:30 When the limousine lands? Can you try to be polite When you finally meet the man? Can you hide these flowers 'till I get home? Us: We can do that! Oh, now we can do that! Jimmy: When Jean-Luc arrives, Can you show him what you've bought? Us: Patrick will be here soon, But JLP he's not! The difference is something well known. And we know that! Oh yes, we do know that! Russell: After he gets here, You'll forget everything. It was all a big bribe To get your one minute's fling, And then you'll all just move along. Us: We won't do that. No, we won't do that. PS: I know the territory, I've been around. You'll all get what you want, And then you'll just leave town. And when you get home, you'll be bragging around. Us: We won't do that. No, we won't do that. We would do anything for love, Oh, we would do anything for love, But it's all for Pat. Yes, it's all for Pat. *** And that, children, is the story of chicken soup. I hope you enjoyed our trip as much as I did. I won't share that little poem again, but it still holds true. I'm not allowed to wash my hand until I see my mother in Missouri. You'd be amazed at what one can learn to do left-handed. *sigh* Well, I love you all dearly ('specially you three I bothered so much), but I have to go now. Take care of one another, and don't ever be afraid of singing out in big crowds. You might just find a friend. Good night, and good bye.