She who asks, gets

Sergei Prokofiev's (1891-1953) Romeo and Juliet (1936) delighted us at the Kungliga Baletten (Swedish Royal Ballet) last night, but my personal favorite moment of the evening came during the first intermission. J wanted to visit the "Golden Salon" on the mezzanine, a reception area that drips with gilding, but we walked down the exterior stairway which brought us directly to the main level. On the main level, we got to appreciate the beauty of the slide we had seen during our first visit to the Operahuset, still lonely and separated from the masses by velvet ropes. After all of the joy of the first act (we left Juliet and her Romeo blushing with their new-found love), I was feeling friendly, and approached the man who was selling programs to inquire about the wonderful slide.

When asked why the slide existed, he said that it was well-used during the children's performances they have at the Operahuset, like a Pippi Longstocking performance they present regularly. I further inquired how or when one might have the opportunity to go down the slide (presuming that he would tell me, "It's just for little people, big girl."), and he said that I might ask the mustachioed man across the lobby to see if I might be able to have my turn that very evening.

The mustachioed man was amused by our love of slides, and even offered to take both of our photos on the way down.

Synthetic fabrics move more quickly and make their wearers decidedly less photogenic on steel slides.

Now that I was blushing even more fiercely than Juliet, J asked to take my photo with Ralle, the man who won my (platonic) affection at the Operahuset.

H with her new friend Ralle. Maybe he'll let J's mom use the slide when she visits in April?