A GREAT BOARDWAY MUCUSAL: THE LOIN KING!!

What a fun show this was. I learned to detest Disney during my childrens' early years, and I was ready for this show. I had a balcony seat, which provided a great place from which to urinate, throw apples, and hoot wildly.

As the curtain went up, the character of Rafiki staggered about drunkenly, slurring her words as she attempted to sing. I soon realized that most of the cast was either high or drunk. The song "Circle of Life" was barely recognizeable as members of the ensemble were breaking into fits of laughter. The orchestra gave up on playing the music to the song, and started a free-form jam session. When the crew manning the lights joined in, the moment rivaled the "space" jams the Grateful Dead used to do... fifteen, twenty minutes of psychedelic sunshine!

After that, the character of Mufasa started to ad lib his lines as he swigged from a bottle of Jack Daniels. Much to the horror of all the parents and their small children in the audience, Mufasa completely disrobed and gave himself a full-body massage. The guys in the giraffe costumes, who have to walk on stilts on all fours, swayed as they tried in vain to keep their balance, falling into each other and then sidelong into Pride Rock.

The only people on stage who seemed sober were the child actors playing Young Simba and Yong Nala. They persevered through the chaos, singing their songs as they should despite the dissonance from the orchestra pit and the on-stage bacchanalia. Having their fill of the precocious young talents, Mufasa and Scar carted them off the stage amid cries of protest from the crowd.

While Scar wasn't looking, Rafiki gave him a hotfoot! He screamed in pain and surprise as the flames quickly spread from his foot to a nearby curtain. Panic erupted in the crowd. Some of the people stormed the stage, while others stampeded for the exits. Police in riot gear arrived, waving their batons wildly, connecting haphazardly with unsuspecting fans. After half an hour, fires were out, order was restored and the show went on.

Young Simba had found Timon and Pumbaa in the jungle, and they were eating grubs. Pumbaa was letting out genuine farts, and those remaining viewers chuckled with delight. Simba, drunk and swaying, collapsed onstage as Timon, possibly on speed, began to freak out and gyrate, gibbering madly. A large yellow puddle appeared beneath Pumbaa as stagehands quickly removed the besotted actors. So much for us getting to hear "Hatuna Makata"... it just didn't happen.

During the intermission, fights broke out in the lobby as drunken theatergoers argued with those operating the concession stands. Once the vendors were subdued, the alcohol flowed freely through the crowd as several hundred wine bottles were passed around. We were all good and fired up by the time Act Two started!

As the curtain rose, about fifty wine bottles flew toward the stage. One hit Pumbaa on the left temple, and he went down like a rock. Timon strutted to the front of the stage and started swearing violently at the angry mob. Simba ran to his side, and began whispering in his ear, apparently trying to calm him down. Timon looked wildly from left to right before dashing to the stage's left edge and ascending the curtain, tugging his way crazily upward as he grabbed handfuls of material, and urinating as he climbed. The story was obviously not going to progress to the climactic fight scene.

At this point, the rest of the cast erupted onto the stage. They swayed, staggered, took off their clothes, screamed wildly, and advanced into the crowd wielding spears and swords. Having seen enough, I finished a bottle of wine and went outside the theater for some air. Within ten minutes, smoke was pouring from the auditorium. I finished my second bottle of wine, found a local transit bus, boarded, and dozed off in the first empty seat I could find.