The sliding doors are about to open and the performance is about to begin.  The crowd is made up of seniors, a few families, one or two British tourists, and me, the giant American lady who refuses to put down her pen.

I go to the balcony and see the stage for the first time.  The theater is huge, the seats are comfy and mine surrounds me like a hug.  The ticket lady at the counter must have noticed my long legs and so she assigned me an aisle seat.  My knees are very thankful.

As the clank, clank, clank of the instruments strum in unison with the geiko performers, twenty of them make it to center stage, all wearing the same silk kimonos and carrying fans.  I am told that the real drama to this performance occurs in the eyes of the geiko.  This is because the white make-up hides much of their expressions.

The dance is flawless, I literally try to find a mistake in the synchronicity of the performers, but they are not budging! It is their first performance of the day but this is no dress rehearsal!  One of my favorite scenes occurs when the stage is turned into a summer night at dusk and small green halogen lights dangle at varying distances from the rafters like fire flies.

The story line is difficult to interpret.  Something about a full moon, friendship and the seasons of the year.  Then blammo, it’s over.  Only one hour and it went by so quick.  I was warned that it may sound like stepping on cats but at times I was choking back tears for the shear beauty of the presentation.