A little over three years ago I wrote glowingly about The Play That Goes Wrong, a rib-tickler that leaves you with the kind of joy that everyone needs these days.

Given the latest onslaught by those nefarious people behind the Greek alphabet, I was more than ready for another dose of The Play’s theatrical hijinks, which I might describe as a Noel Coward version of Waiting for Guffman meets the Marx Brothers.

So I packed up my KN95, one approved by the Korean government and Amazon, along with proof of a lifetime worth of vaccinations, including those for shingles, just in case.

But, alas, The Play That Goes Wrong went even further wrong than originally scripted. Was the show cancelled due to an outbreak of Covid among the cast’s pets? Did I slip and fall on the icy sidewalk, tearing whatever cartilage might be left in my body, and get taken to the emergency room, where I waited for x-rays for 15 hours, writing this blog, while the staff tended to several hundred people with the sniffles? Did I go to the theater on the wrong night like I did for Ragtime in 2018? Or other, the answer most often correct on online AARP quizzes?

Just like it was every night of the 17-year-run of Shear Madness at the Blackstone Hotel, I’m going to let the viewer, in this case the reader, decide the outcome. I will only add that The Play That Goes Wrong will be here through February 13, so you may yet see a review from me that is only slightly more about the production itself.