I was invited by Terry Teachout,  the chief theater critic of the Wall Street Journal, for lunch and a viewing of “Thurgood” on Broadway. We met this afternoon at Citron on the Upper West Side. I hadn’t seen Terry since July, so he caught me up on the excitement surrounding his opera and his Louis Armstrong book “Rhythm Man.”

After lunch we caught a cab and raced to midtown. In the middle of a traffic jam, we ditched the cab and walked to The Booth theatre. Mr. Teachout was exhausted (read his blog and you’ll know he’s always busy) so he prayed that the play would be just 90 minutes with no intermission.

We were in luck, the play clocked in at 100 minutes. It was a one-man show with Laurence Fishburne, who you may have seen in films like “The Matrix,” etc., playing Thurgood Marshall. History books, (and teachers) have a way of skipping to the triumphs, so I knew nothing of his road to the Supreme Court. I’m glad I went.

After the show I waved Terry goodbye, and he was headed home before another play that evening. I’d be filling a theater seat again, Tonya  had invited me to so see the Akram Khan Company at City Center.

I raced home to change, as the temperature dropped a bit. I ended up eating a rushed dinner standing up, something I hadn’t done since Fashion Week. I arrived in midtown early enough to take a walk past Carnegie Hall.

I met Tonya in the lobby of City Center. I was going to the show completely ignorant to Khans company, the program, or the performers. They were a pleasant surprise.

The program was short, just one piece, “Bahok.” Conceptually, the work was fantastic. Eight strangers trapped in a layover. They wait, they interact. They tell their stories about home.

I was discussing with Tonya afterward that a lot of the movement seemed a little too loose to have been choreographed. Just moving to move is okay…sometimes. I found the choreographed portions with more defined movements and narrative more engaging. I also liked that the topic was deep, and easily accessible. I kept thinking back to my layovers, and the strangers I spoke to and connected with before parting. I thought about home. One of the dancers kept asking “where do I come from?” “Bahok” was profound enough that I turned it over in my mind on the chilly ride home.