In any theater larger than a breadbox, house VIP seats, which you know are the best seats, typically do not start before row five. Yet, when you order tickets for a play online and ask for the best seats, the computer generally starts with the row closest to the stage. This makes me think that the computers are programmed by massage therapists, looking to bring in new customers with stiff necks.

If you buy a ticket close to the date of the show, you might get lucky enough to get a VIP seat that has not been taken. Such was the case for this show, which resulted in me sitting two seats away from chef Rick Bayless, or so I was told, because I wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a five-man lineup, even with Lenny Briscoe whispering in my ear to pick suspect number two.

Governor Bruce Rauner also was pointed out to me in the audience. This is only worth mentioning in that my seat was better than his.

If you have read previous blogs, you know that I generally shy away from the Goodman Theater, but I took the word of several friends who had seen this show (including one whose high praise was that she didn’t walk out on it) and thus made a last minute decision to go. I was rewarded, not only with the VIP seat, but also with some laughs. Good enough for me.

The play as a whole made me think of Wild Men (though that was a musical), a 1992 play with George Wendt, Pete Burns (with whom I had improv classes), and Rob Riley (from whom I took an acting class) about the so-called men’s movement, which featured men beating drums in the woods, as opposed to men passing around a baseball bat as a talking stick in Support Group. We’ve come a long way, baby.