Day 331: Ball Room

Today I am at the Landmark Hotel in Marylebone.  Which has the most geographically confusing atrium, with its Riviera palm trees.  It's like a set for a camp* production of 'The Boyfriend'.  (*Is there any other kind?) 

I'm in the Grand Ballroom.  Which is huge.  And feels vaguely familiar as I walk up onto the stage and start speaking to the vast sea of faces.  When there are this many people, it's easy for them to remain detached.  They sit.  Neat, passive and demure.  Too demure.  So I get them to throw balls of paper at me (not just for the hell of it - there is a reason as well). They oblige.  It is surprisingly enjoyable to make yourself the target for five hundred balls of paper.  (And very appropriate, given that we are in the BALL room.)

As I kick paper off the stage in the slightly less demure atmosphere, I suddenly realise why this room is so familiar.  It was the setting for one of roughest nights of corporate dinner theatre that I've ever been involved in.  It was for a very fussy client, who had demanded that we bespoke the plot especially for them.  Utterly pointless since all the guests were shit-faced, heckling and throwing food.  I was all for abridging things, but I was with an actor who was determined that the show would go on as designed.  I still remember his dogged expression, as he worked his way through a speech, with jeers and bread rolls flying.

Interesting to find myself here, ten years on, asking people to throw things at me.  Feels like something's come full circle.  Not sure what it is, though...