I hate happy endings. I know I'm in the minority. Most people like them in books and movies because we don't usually get them in real life. And that's exactly why I don't like them. If I can't have one, why should this fictional character?
I realized I was starting to have a dismal perspective on life when I began devouring the complete works of Thomas Hardy. And I would find myself dissatisfied at the movie theatre when a movie would wrap itself up, all perfect and exact at the seams, with a pretty little bow.
On Friday night, I went with my friend Hilary (my best friend since grade school) and her husband to the Muny to see "Aida." The Muny is this great outdoor theatre that rotates musicals each week and sets aside 1200 free seats each night. It's amazing, if you can stand the humidity and the mosquitoes. And I can. The story ends with the star-crossed lovers being buried alive together. I loved it. No one pulled them out of the tomb at the last minute. They died together in each other's arms. Aida was great--the performers were fantastic, the music was great, the temperature seemed to be a little cooler that night, and I got my tragic ending.
