Overheard at Cirque Du Soleil

A preface: I've wanted to go to Cirque Du Soleil -- any Cirque Du Soleil -- for a long, long time. It rarely comes to Chicago and the last time I was in Vegas, we could barely afford to eat, let alone see that kind of show. Things are different now, Vegas was different. Not for any reason or for anyone else. But definitely for me.

Mack and I saw Cirque, mostly because it was playing in our hotel and because we are lazy and had very little interest doing research or reading reviews or anything like that. It was at the right time and -- this time -- was the right price, and so we saw Ka.

It was gorgeous. And I loved it. There were a few draggy points where people were doing cartwheels up a rotating wall (again, gawww) but overall, it was just so beautiful. Even with the guy down the row from me who rattled the ice in his empty giant plastic Cirque Du Soleil commemorative cup of Seabreeze or similar.

Speaking of that guy, he's the same one with the perm I heard this from as Mack and I squeezed past to our seats in the center of our row.

"That sister of yours I always thought she was gay?"

"My sister? Which one?!" This from a younger man, blond buzz cut, tall, skinnyish, t-shirt, as southern sounding as perm-and-ice guy.

"The big one."

"Her? Oh hell no! She slept with purty much every guy in our high school!"

"REALLY?" Shaking ice. "Huh."

These moments, from the highly costumed Asian tribal mid-air acrobatics to yee-har near the center aisle, is precisely why I'm convinced people keep coming back to this crazy ass city.