Anyways, we finally got out of the room and grabbed some breakfast before noticing a massive queue of tourists trying to get tickets for something at the Casino Theatre. Turned out it was a Motown show, which is right up our alley. Being the impatient sort who doesn’t do queuing, I suggested we go back to the hotel and book them on the good old internet rather than wait. Got the two without problem and came back to the theatre again and sailed straight in.
Then, the oddest thing happened. As the place started to fill up, we quickly realised that it was only old folks attending the show and when I mean old, I mean 70s, 80s, probably even 90 year old dodders settling down for a bit of soul (as old people have souls too you see?). It was pretty funny, but sad at the same time watching the poor old loves having to get up and leave the aisle every time someone wanted in after making mammoth efforts to get sat down in the first place. I don’t want to get old, it looks shit scary.
So, this Motown show; fanfuckingtastic as the Queen Mother used to say. You got a full live band, eight or so singers who collectively proper nailed the classics. Proper nailed. I think I’ve been lucky enough to see the biggest and best acts in the world live (in my humble opinion), but oddly this £20 show was right up there with the best. You can’t beat a bit of soul done properly though can you? Unforgettable stuff. Sadly we weren’t allowed to take pictures in there. I came to the conclusion that they must be covering themselves in the event electrical equipment interfered with pacemakers. One of the best bits was when the singers came into the crowd to pick audience members out to dance with. Poor Small Irish had the same look of dread on her face as I’d imagine a poor Jewish person had when ze German Gestapo were banging on the door (I’m not comparing a Motown musical to the abhorrent Holocaust here by the way folks just to make that clear!). She got away unscathed anyway. Instead the singers picked out some old ladies (as there wasn’t much of an alternative) and turned the aisles into something resembling Marvin Gaye turning up at an elderly home for a dance and a sing.
Anyways, everyone went home happy (maybe except the poor souls with dementia who would have classed the show as forgettable) and we headed to the Skylon observation tower to get a view of the Falls from above. It’s up here you truly become aware of just how special they are. A true wonder everyone must go and see at some point in their lives. The staff liked pushing the meals in there though. I think we got three or four people telling us about the restaurant up there (you can’t miss it, it’s advertised all around town) which we kindly knocked back each time. The elevator shot us up to the top (via the restaurant obviously), with the only way to get the elevator down to go through the restaurant again (naturally).
Instead of some gourmet dining with spectacular views, I took small Irish to one of them Johnny Rockets (again) for mediocre burgers (again) and a fine view of fat American tourists instead of that natural wonder thing I keep referring to.
Belly’s full, we headed back to the hotel to have a bit of a relax, where we were treated to some proper shite American TV programme giving us all the info on what’s hot and what’s not in celebrity land. Who is this Scottish woman (who looks like a man) who sang on Britain’s Got Talent? The Yanks are going mental for her and have already set her up for a makeover or something stupid and made her sing over videophone making one of the presenters cry. Saying that, I have felt like crying at American TV at several points during this trek.
Took a walk outside the hotel and around Niagara Falls to see them lit up by night for one last time before packing the bags to cross back into the States tomorrow. Buffalo up next for a stopover before we make the long journey to Boston. Don’t know much about the place other than Buffalo wings, which as a greedy sort is no surprise.
