On November 7, 2003 I was in the city of Old San Juan in
Puerto Rico, a lovely island in the Caribbean east of the
island nations of Cuba and hispanola. That same day the
musical "CHICAGO" was opening at the Tapia Theatre. It was
the first time that this show was brought to Puerto Rico
and my friends were producing it so I bought seats in box
#105 and went to the show.
The Tapia Theatre was built in the mid-19th Century and is
relatively new for Old San Juan where some buildings date
back to the early 16th Century. The old city has a lot of
history and has been attacked many times over the years by
the British and the Dutch. I suppose it is a good place for
ghostly activity.
The show was really awesome. The dancing was excellent, the
Spanish language libretto was flawless (unlike the Madrid
production) and the orchestra played beautifully. I was in
Box #105 with two friends who were visiting from New York.
We were enjoying the show and nothing unusual happened
until after the intermission.
Box 105 had six seats in it and we occupied the front three
seats while the three in the rear were empty. The only
entry into the box was through a private wooden door that
only we were allowed to use.
Shortly after the intermission ended and the second half of
the show began I turned away from the show to say something
to my friend. When I did that I noticed a woman sitting
behind us in the box. She was peering over our shoulders at
the show. She wore her black hair up and was wearing a
white gown in a style resembling those worn by women in the
early 20th Century (@1900-1908). She looked stout and
middle aged. At first I thought that this person must be,
like me, a friend of one of the producers and I turned to
greet her. As I turned fully around to do that her eyes
turned from the show to look at me and within a second she
vanished right before my eyes. She simply "popped" out of
existence. My mouth was frozen in the middle of forming my
greeting in Spanish ("ho...").
"Hola" indeed! I managed to keep my cool (one does not have
hysterics in a box at the Tapia Theatre) but I barely
managed to keep my voice low as I explained to my friends
why I had nearly jumped out of the box.
Nobody else saw her but my friends were supportive. I wish
they had seen her. I don't know who she is. I only know she
is dead, a woman, and wears clothes that are at least 100
years out of style. I have no explanation other that she
must have wanted to see the show.
That is my story. It doesn't have an explanation. I guess
you know a show must be good if the dead are coming back to
see it!
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