April 11: Celebrity sighting! And you'll never believe it.

I got better seats to the theatre today than Harry Potter. Seriously.

Here is my story.

Remember how yesterday I said I made a reservation for the backstage tour at the National Theatre? Well I decided that I would go today, and then come back, cook some lunch, and begin my homework (six days left = horribly sad)

The tour only cost me 3.50 and it was pretty cool. The tour took you to all three of the National's theatres, and backstage, and to the construction department. My favorite fact of the day was that the elevator walls are covered in thick green carpet so that people can't graffitti them, the Olivier theatre was named after Sir Lawrence Olivier who was the original artistic director of the National, 118 degrees is the spread of a human's peripheral vision (and thus the angle of seating in the Olivier theatre), and Sir Olivier's favorite color was lilac. The Olivier is also only one of two theatres in the entire world with a rotating platform that can split into two half-circles which operate on hydraulic lifts so that stages can be hidden and replaced behind another while the show is actually occurring onstage.

I also got to see a light/sound check, touch a War Horse puppet (remember that, the first show I saw here in London on the West End?) and the turtle tank from the set of Really Old, Like 45 (man that was a good show...) we also saw a rehearsal room where they had a mock-up set for a coming production (the rehearsal room is the same size as the performance stage, with a working rotating floor so the actors get full practice) and our guide lady was young and funny and the group was really big, including two guys who I think might have interned for the National.

Anyway, through the tour I found out that a play I had been meaning to see but haven't yet was performing, so I decided why not and bought a ticket for a matinee. The guy at first offered me 16 or 23 pound tickets for the upper level seating, but when I told him I had a student card he gave me one of the best seats in the house for only 10 pounds. (As a reference, the same seat is usually upwards of 44 pounds had I tried for the night performance and not the 3pm Sunday matinee).

So instead of eating my overabundance of groceries (someday I will learn not to go shopping when hungry) I walked along the wharf again but ended up buying a hot dog that tasted more like a hot dog impersonation of a Vienna sausage. Buuuuuut that's not interesting, so we'll skip it.

So I walk into the theatre to discover that I have super excellent seats. First floor, just enough rows back from the stage to be able to see everything clearly, perfectly center. Exceptionally amazing seats, basically.

Now. I don't know what caused it, but about 5-10 minutes before the show actually decides to start I look up from my notebook where I was attempting to sort out my life and discover that the theatre's actually gotten quite crowded. The next thing I remember is glancing back and seeing a guy with a disturbingly pale white face and jet-black hair. A disturbingly pale white face I had seen in movies before...

Realizing that Daniel Radcliffe is sitting a single row behind you and five seats to your left is a very surprising and shocking thing.Its even more surprising when he looks up and sees you looking at him and your eyes meet and you realize you've made eye-contact with probably one of the most famous film stars of the last decade.

Before you ask no, I did not speak with him, or attempt to interact with him in any way. It looked like he was there with a friend and his parents, and once I got over the initial shock of it I figured that he probably really needed a break from strangers walking up to him on the street, and that I would feel really bad if I went over there to thank him for making my week and somehow draw people's attention and cause a fangirl frenzy (it nearly happened in the interval, I felt really bad for him)

The play itself was entitled "The White Guard" and written by Mikhail Bulgakov, the same man who wrote The Master and Margarita, which I really liked. The play was wonderful though I felt the actress needed a little work. It's difficult to explain what was going on so it's probably best if you look it up yourself, but suffice to say it's a wartime play based in Kiev Russia during the pre-soviet period.

The set changes were AMAZING. They had a really ornate dining room/living room/hallway/bathroom set for the first scene (which looked completely different backstage, it was fun to see)that was pulled backwards into a backspace area of the stage. It looked like the set was panning out, and then you realized that this was a theatre, not a movie screen. My eyes and mind couldn't quite handle it. Then, when that set was far enough back (and the actor was still pretending to be drunk on it) the next set like...levitated in from above and below the stage and just appeared from nowhere. It was awesome! Also? The National has their own pyrotechnics team. Seriously. Flashbangs, sparklers, actual explosions that had heat- the National makes and uses it all. The pyros are also located just below the armoury, where the prop makers make swords and guns and all the shows prop weaponry. How neat is that?!

When I got back to my seat from the show interval I got weirded out a bit. Most of the older people were still outside, but there were maybe a four or five row little rectangle of people aged 17-21 or so, mostly girls, all huddled together giggling, whispering, and pointing at Radcliffe. It made me feel a lot better about my decision to leave him alone. Just seeing the fandom was making me uncomfortable. I did admire his excellent black leather jacket though when he left, and stared at him for a few more minutes while I tried to figure out if the suspenders he was wearing were real suspenders or just cloth. Turns out they were dyed into his grey collared shirt- odd right? And he's just as terrifyingly pale as the movies paint him out to be. His parents were interesting though, but I don't really know how to explain that they didn't really look like him.

Alas, 10pm on a Sunday and I have yet to start my homework. Better get crackin'