It’s 1993 out. My wife, Valerie, suggests that we go see Phantom of the Opera at the Chicago Auditorium Theatre. “It will be great,” she insists, “the tickets will cost about a million dollars, we’ll get nosebleed seats in the balcony, the actors will be two inches tall, there will be torrential rains that evening, traffic will be unbearable and you’ll get into a huge fight with the parking lot attendant.” How do you turn that down? We go. The tickets cost 1.5 million dollars, we have ridiculous seats in the 3rd balcony, the singers are the size of dominoes, …  [ read more ]