If you’re a girls school graduate, or know anybody who is, you’re sure to love Houston Grand Opera’s production of Tchaikovsky’s Queen of Spades, that tragic, age-old tale of Girls Gone Wild on spring break.

OK, so maybe that’s not straight from the synopsis. But that’s my point.

Too many people are depriving themselves of all the fun opera offers because they mistakenly think they can’t relate to it. You may be among those who view opera as an outdated story about a bunch of narcissists singing for hours about their obsessive infatuations, competitive paranoia, and generalized anxiety disorder.

If so, may I ask what was the subject of your last lengthy phone conversation with a close friend? What did you watch most recently on TV, or see at the movies?

The problem, as I see it, is the lack of modern-day interpretation of a given opera, or an interpretation that doesn't make sense. Here’s where I come in, as contemporary translator.

I love foreign films, operas and countries where people often say things I don’t understand. In my experience, it’s easier to get enjoyably lost in the story at hand if you provide your own creative running translation. After all, half the fun in life lies in our confusion. That’s the drama that fuels the stories we tell each other about our daily lives. That, my friend, is opera.

Take Queen of Spades. Here’s the story. There’s this great-looking hunk named Herman — OK, let’s call him Rod — an economically underprivileged soldier with a crush on a gorgeous, wealthy girl named Lisa. Rod’s telling a buddy about his futile obsession (given the socio-demographic issues) when in walks the equally buff but enviably rich Prince Yeletsky, who announces he’s engaged.

Congratulations! everybody says. Who’s the lucky girl?

The prince gestures to — of all people! — Lisa, who’s just swanned onto the scene with her grandma, the amazingly rich and, therefore, gracefully aging Countess, aka The Queen of Spades. Rod’s darkly intrigued to learn the Countess is a onetime femme fatale whose suitors gave her a broad array of portfolio-building growth assets, the biggest of which was a winning — but potentially fatal — card-gambling formula.

Lisa and Nana recognize Rod as that strange dude who’s been stalking them, but the two hothouse flowers just walk on by as if they never even heard of a TRO.

Now, Lisa’s a well-brought-up, affluent young lady who is appropriately overprotected. Thus, she reads lots of great literature, and associates only with her family, their domestic staff, and other well-to-do girls who get out even less than she does. Naturally, Lisa sees life as a fabulous cabaret going on 24/7 just beyond her bolted window.

So when she sees Rod lusting after her from a distance, she starts fantasizing about him. Rod turns into Billy Joel in black leather, singing “Uptown Girl” as he eyes her from astride his Harley. Oh, Lisa. Didn’t you learn anything from Madame Bovary?

The next thing you know, Rod’s made his way into Lisa’s room, singing “Only the Good Die Young.” OMG! Surely a well-bred girl like Lisa is going to resist this testosterone-pumped guy’s advances! Or will she?

At least that's the way I interpreted it. You can do your own translation of the story of fallen women, hot men, addictive behavior, wild parties, and all the usual spring-break mayhem — at its final HGO performance tonight.