Sydney Opera House

You stand there looking up at the steps. The hundreds of steps. You wonder how all those women make it up there wearing their extreme high heals and tight dresses. As i follow the huge crowds of people up the stair the more and more I feel out of place. Im about to spend the next 3 hours listening to a bunch of none famous people try to see who can sing the highest personally i think half the time they make up another silly languge just so no one else can understand.As you enter the Opera house you are practically in another world. Its a land of extreme beauty and wilt walls that look about 100 years old covered in what looks like famous paintings. The bar has huge cues as it seems that its tradition that you have to be holding a glass of shapane even if you are going to drink it or not. All i hear are the sounds of the woman gossiping about how expensive their diamond necklaces are and who's husband earns the most cash. While the pull up the jackets to show off their new rolexs and cuff links. I think people like that tend to remind me of the men that worked all their lives and have had no life.As its time to enter the room the place of doom I wonder if my eyes will actually be able to stay open that long. Unforuntaly im going to have to find out.