How Kyle and I ended up wet, sticky, and cold in Vegas

I assure you my intentions were good.

I've been in the splash zone at both O and La Reve and never really gotten wet, so I figured being up front at another Vegas play would be fine.  Consequently, when we decided to check out Evil Dead: The Musical--what's not to like about a musical version of a cult classic?--and the best tickets were for the "splatter zone," I chose them for us.

I should have paid more attention to the lines about "gallons of blood," but I assumed that referred to the show, not the audience.

Not long before showtime, a host led us to the front row, which was covered in plastic, and handed us white, logoed t-shirts, which he then insisted we wear.  Only we two and another guy were in the front.

As the show was about to begin, from way off to my left came a spray, presumably from a super-soaker of some sort, of red liquid with the consistency of Kool-Aid.  I was instantly wet.

From then on, the show consisted of moments of entertainment mixed with stretches of failed attempts on our part to avoid the jets of fake blood coming at us from the left and, in one case, from the stage.

We left the theater chilled to the bone, sticky, and soaked.  We took off the t-shirts but still had to walk through the cold night and then across much of the casino floor of our hotel to get to our room.

We have a pink towel from trying to wash the still-pink clothing we were wearing.

We both think the show was reasonably entertaining, but neither of us can be sure, because we spent so much of it trying in vain to avoid getting wetter, stickier, and colder.

Good intentions are no match for a determined splatter zone team.