The end of tour world, that is. And I feel pretty damn fine, indeed. Like over the MOON! I'm going to be honest - a lot of tour was misery. I edited out a lot of the backstabbing/bitchery/sex, drugs, and rock and roll for the blog's sake, but if you want to hear about all that, call me - we'll brunch. There's nothing I won't spill over a long, gossippy omelette session. Or you can just wait for the book to come out - just kidding. Sort of.
To be fair, it wasn't all bad. Some of it was good. In the truck the other day, Sound Boy asked me what my favorite part of tour was. I thought of Myrtle Beach, where we watched the waves crash over the dunes all weekend long. Milwaukee, where I danced alone at the indie rock pop folk electronica concert and all the hipsters thought I was crazy. Detroit, where we first played an audience of over 3000 and the dressing rooms looked like they were on the Titanic. Driving through Wisconsin in the fall. Even Elkhart, Indiana, where in the midst of my personal hell, I found a mini horse farm. But then I realized there was only one answer - anytime I was onstage. And that's what really matters - I was lucky enough to do the thing I love more than anything else five days a week, every week, for three months. And even though I was basically a glorified teamster 80% of the time, that's still pretty fucking cool.
Also, I learned a lot.
10. Breathe from your diaphragm, speak from your WOMB.
9. The middle of the country is not totally unfortunate. Mostly. But not totally.
8. People are more likely to carry things for you if you smile at them.
7. If I can drive a truck, anyone can drive a truck. Although it is better to befriend people who will drive the truck for you than to actually drive the truck yourself. And Pilots are the best truck stop.
6. When at the Cracker Barrel, order either the grilled chicken salad or the chef salad with peppercorn dressing.
5. A gold duvet in a Comfort Inn is a sure sign of a good night's sleep.
4. Strawberry margaritas are cheaper at Applebee's, but better at Red Lobster.
3. A Katy Perry dance party cannot solve every problem, but it sure helps.
2. Trust no one.
1. Shoot for the balconies - even if you miss, you'll end up in the mezzanine.
Now that I've conquered the highways and byways of middle America, what's next for the interstate ingenue, you ask?
Why, just what you'd expect -The Interstate Ingenue Takes Manhattan. Look out, big apple - here I come!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
If the Fates Allow...
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away.
Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.
Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow.
And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.
Here I sit, in the lobby of the North Dartmouth, MA Comfort Inn, laptop plugged in next to the faux poinsettia-pinecone floral arrangement. Man, if you asked me in any college december where I'd be post-graduation, I never would have guessed here. I think back on pre-Christmas-weeks past - the happy golden days of yore: Freshman year when one of the girls on my hall (who would become one of my best friends) and I drank cider at the tree-lighting ceremony, the Holiday Cheerleading Semi-Formal where we ate midnight breakfast in cocktail dresses, the Holly Ball where my "gentlemen" of a date tried to feed me an entire tupperware of jello shots, the time my girls and I bought a Santa face cake for a friend's birthday, he million and a half Museum holiday parties my friends suffered through to hear me play Christmas carols on the piano in Victorian costume, the time I had too much eggnog at a cheer friend's holiday party and believed that this football player took care of sick kittens, the time I organized a Suck-and-Blow tournament in my hall...(don't worry, it's a card game.) Good times, all. And then I think of the familiar pattern of Christmases at home, with my family: picking out matching pjs for me and my sister, waiting for what felt like forever to run downstairs and gasp at how many presents were under the tree, eating dad's scrambled eggs (the one item the man can cook), watching the ensuing temper tantrum when my sister finished opening her presents way before I did, complaining about having to put on real clothes and go to grandma's, all that.A lot of this tour has been really tough. And it didn't end on a good note. But the one thing it has made me realize is how incredibly lucky I am to have my friends and family back home. To my girls, who I know will always be there to cut a bitch for me, I love you so much, and to my parents, for letting me whine whenever, and my sister, for attempting to cheer me up from out of my many foul moods, thank you for everything.
I don't want to go all mushball here, but as I look at the scrappy fake Christmas tree in the lobby, I really feel that this is what the holidays are about - faithful friends who are dear to us gathering near to us once more.
Until then, I'll have to muddle through somehow. And believe me, tomorrow (LAST DAY thank you BABY JESUS) will be quite a muddle.
From then on - hopefully - all troubles will be out of sight.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Fa La La La La
Mmmhmm and so we keep on truckin'. It has been a week of early mornings, and frayed nerves, and for whatever reason I've chosen impromptu dance party as my coping mechanism.
Monday in Baltimore (at a very pretty opera house) for whatever reason we had a 7:30 load-in (as opposed to our usual 8:00) and we were ready way, way early. Like insane early. I took an hour-long nap (an hour, people) on the merlot-colored brocade couch. I went out for coffee at a coffee/sushi/pastry/breakfast sausage emporium. (It was called XS. And decorated like a techno-nightclub in an eastern european country.) I did a crossword puzzle (just a Monday, but still.) I threw a Miley Cyrus solo dance party (don't worry, I had my own dressing room) that Frog heard the leaping about from the hallway. I then put on my knickers and colonial man shirt for the Katy Perry portion of the dance party, which made me feel like I should be singing "I Protested the Stamp Act and I Liked It"(it felt so wrong, it felt so right...)
Then, SM and I drove the truck (you guessed it - he drove all 7 hours, I'm an asshole, we know it) and after a bit of Christmas music, we had the most epic singalong of perhaps all time. The entire soundtrack of Legally Blonde: The Musical followed by all of Mamma Mia! And this was no faint humming along, people - no, this was like full-on belting rocking it out. There were hand motions (for me, anyway, as SM was driving, obvi.) Is it sort of frightening that we both know every single lyric to every single song in both of those shows? Yes. Yes it is.
It's times that like that that I almost wish the other truckers could see/hear into our truck. Because I have a feeling we were the only truck belting out "Chiquitita."
Tuesday, we were in Bridgeport, CT, which is only about 10 minutes from my house, and is, unfortunately, hands down the shittiest part of Fairfield County. Like people get knifed heinous. We went on a walk in search of beverages (I am a diet soda addict. Leave me alone) and Frog made us leave every single placed we stopped due to "weird smells." It took us 4 tries to find something with a halfway decent smell, and the whole time I kept thinking how bad it would be to write the letter: "Dear Office - Frog, Ichabod and I will not be performing today, because we got stabbed. Sorry I had to write this note in my own blood. Kisses, Stephanie."
But I made it back to my (slightly creepy) solo dressing room in time for a Hot N Cold dance party!! Katy Perry, you soothe my soul.
The load-in/out was also really bad, as we had the most ancient, feeble crew ever, and then the most FEEBLE oldie was talking shit to me and Other Actress!
Feeble Oldie: Look at you girls, carrying that big thing. You're gonna get muscles.
Other Actress: Yup, we're pretty strong.
Feeble Oldie: Muscles ain't attractive on a woman.
How dare ye, sir! HOW DARE YE. Anyhoo, we escaped Bridgeport with our internal organs intact, and drove back to Boston, for the final Showing for THE PRODUCER (dunn dunn dunn.)
Unfortunately I slumbered too much, and neither my alarm nor Other Actress's went off, and so on today, of all days, the PRODUCER day, we totally slept too late and were awoken at 7 (vancall time!) by the SM (politely) wondering where the hell we were. We made it downstairs by 7:05 (sort of a miracle) and (an even bigger miracle) made it to the Berklee College of Music (our venue) at 7:20. Because if we had been there at 7:31, SM would have disemboweled us. Like I cannot even describe to you the world of hurt we would have been in.
Ah, Berklee...it's a special place. Did you know that the 70s are alive and well? Our crew was like the friggin chorus of Hair. Questionable fashion choices aside, they were very nice, but the real problem was that the space is so tiny, it was nigh impossible to fit everything in, let alone negotiate it down the ramp and around two corners. Oh, and did I mention it was sleeting? Ah, wintry mix: rain, snow, sleet, and hail all at once. That special meteorological cocktail of doom known only to New England.
The show, I must say, I think actually went pretty damn well. By far the worst part of it was the first scene change, because it was like a death trap back there. Frog's trying to put the bed in a teeny tiny corner while I am trying to extricate the fence from that teeny tiny corner and we're both stuck in a curtain and I kicked a light, and had to waddle/sidestep with the bench around the curtains of doom. NIGHTMARE. It was also freakishly dark, and I couldn't find my way back after my Sleepy Hollow intro and kept tripping on my cloak/the half-platform/same evil light/curtain.
Aside from that, it went pretty well. And even that change must not have been TOO bad, because nobody mentioned it.
And then, the unbelievable happened.
The Producer came...BACKSTAGE. Like to TALK to US. There I was, in my saloon girl outfit and smudgy makeup, arms full of mirrors, and there she is, in a smart blue suit, smiling and bopping down the hall. I would have been lessed surprised if Jesus Christ, Oprah and Brangelina came back to say hey. But she just came to personally thank all of us, (people - the woman has never directly addressed me. EVER.) and was just so sweet and wonderful it really made my day.
Also - I got no notes. Nada. Actually, lie - less blush. (What can I say? Once i start making things pink, it's hard to stop.) I still can't believe this. Maybe she lost all her notes somehow? I don't know. I was just put through the wringer SO BADLY in rehearsal for my lack of elegence/short arms/dancing clumsiness etc., I can't believe it.
More importantly, I decided not to come back for the Spring. It was offered to me as a possibility, and although I have learned so much and on the whole, on the whole it's been a good experience, and I'm glad I came, I just cannot do it again. For my sanity, I need to get off the big white van. While I'm doing the show, it's a great job. The best job in the world. But on tour, the job becomes your life. I miss my life. I miss being a person who also, oh, I don't know, has brunch with her girlfriends, and takes yoga, and starts too many sewing projects she'll never finish, and wears high heels to the grocery store, and butchers showtunes on the piano, and goes to Anthropologie "just to look," and bakes muffins for her family. I need to be her.
But it ended very nicely, with me thanking them for everything, and with the Artistic Director telling me how they were proud of me, and very pleased with my performance.
Praise? From the Company? A Christmas miracle.
Monday in Baltimore (at a very pretty opera house) for whatever reason we had a 7:30 load-in (as opposed to our usual 8:00) and we were ready way, way early. Like insane early. I took an hour-long nap (an hour, people) on the merlot-colored brocade couch. I went out for coffee at a coffee/sushi/pastry/breakfast sausage emporium. (It was called XS. And decorated like a techno-nightclub in an eastern european country.) I did a crossword puzzle (just a Monday, but still.) I threw a Miley Cyrus solo dance party (don't worry, I had my own dressing room) that Frog heard the leaping about from the hallway. I then put on my knickers and colonial man shirt for the Katy Perry portion of the dance party, which made me feel like I should be singing "I Protested the Stamp Act and I Liked It"(it felt so wrong, it felt so right...)
Then, SM and I drove the truck (you guessed it - he drove all 7 hours, I'm an asshole, we know it) and after a bit of Christmas music, we had the most epic singalong of perhaps all time. The entire soundtrack of Legally Blonde: The Musical followed by all of Mamma Mia! And this was no faint humming along, people - no, this was like full-on belting rocking it out. There were hand motions (for me, anyway, as SM was driving, obvi.) Is it sort of frightening that we both know every single lyric to every single song in both of those shows? Yes. Yes it is.
It's times that like that that I almost wish the other truckers could see/hear into our truck. Because I have a feeling we were the only truck belting out "Chiquitita."
Tuesday, we were in Bridgeport, CT, which is only about 10 minutes from my house, and is, unfortunately, hands down the shittiest part of Fairfield County. Like people get knifed heinous. We went on a walk in search of beverages (I am a diet soda addict. Leave me alone) and Frog made us leave every single placed we stopped due to "weird smells." It took us 4 tries to find something with a halfway decent smell, and the whole time I kept thinking how bad it would be to write the letter: "Dear Office - Frog, Ichabod and I will not be performing today, because we got stabbed. Sorry I had to write this note in my own blood. Kisses, Stephanie."
But I made it back to my (slightly creepy) solo dressing room in time for a Hot N Cold dance party!! Katy Perry, you soothe my soul.
The load-in/out was also really bad, as we had the most ancient, feeble crew ever, and then the most FEEBLE oldie was talking shit to me and Other Actress!
Feeble Oldie: Look at you girls, carrying that big thing. You're gonna get muscles.
Other Actress: Yup, we're pretty strong.
Feeble Oldie: Muscles ain't attractive on a woman.
How dare ye, sir! HOW DARE YE. Anyhoo, we escaped Bridgeport with our internal organs intact, and drove back to Boston, for the final Showing for THE PRODUCER (dunn dunn dunn.)
Unfortunately I slumbered too much, and neither my alarm nor Other Actress's went off, and so on today, of all days, the PRODUCER day, we totally slept too late and were awoken at 7 (vancall time!) by the SM (politely) wondering where the hell we were. We made it downstairs by 7:05 (sort of a miracle) and (an even bigger miracle) made it to the Berklee College of Music (our venue) at 7:20. Because if we had been there at 7:31, SM would have disemboweled us. Like I cannot even describe to you the world of hurt we would have been in.
Ah, Berklee...it's a special place. Did you know that the 70s are alive and well? Our crew was like the friggin chorus of Hair. Questionable fashion choices aside, they were very nice, but the real problem was that the space is so tiny, it was nigh impossible to fit everything in, let alone negotiate it down the ramp and around two corners. Oh, and did I mention it was sleeting? Ah, wintry mix: rain, snow, sleet, and hail all at once. That special meteorological cocktail of doom known only to New England.
The show, I must say, I think actually went pretty damn well. By far the worst part of it was the first scene change, because it was like a death trap back there. Frog's trying to put the bed in a teeny tiny corner while I am trying to extricate the fence from that teeny tiny corner and we're both stuck in a curtain and I kicked a light, and had to waddle/sidestep with the bench around the curtains of doom. NIGHTMARE. It was also freakishly dark, and I couldn't find my way back after my Sleepy Hollow intro and kept tripping on my cloak/the half-platform/same evil light/curtain.
Aside from that, it went pretty well. And even that change must not have been TOO bad, because nobody mentioned it.
And then, the unbelievable happened.
The Producer came...BACKSTAGE. Like to TALK to US. There I was, in my saloon girl outfit and smudgy makeup, arms full of mirrors, and there she is, in a smart blue suit, smiling and bopping down the hall. I would have been lessed surprised if Jesus Christ, Oprah and Brangelina came back to say hey. But she just came to personally thank all of us, (people - the woman has never directly addressed me. EVER.) and was just so sweet and wonderful it really made my day.
Also - I got no notes. Nada. Actually, lie - less blush. (What can I say? Once i start making things pink, it's hard to stop.) I still can't believe this. Maybe she lost all her notes somehow? I don't know. I was just put through the wringer SO BADLY in rehearsal for my lack of elegence/short arms/dancing clumsiness etc., I can't believe it.
More importantly, I decided not to come back for the Spring. It was offered to me as a possibility, and although I have learned so much and on the whole, on the whole it's been a good experience, and I'm glad I came, I just cannot do it again. For my sanity, I need to get off the big white van. While I'm doing the show, it's a great job. The best job in the world. But on tour, the job becomes your life. I miss my life. I miss being a person who also, oh, I don't know, has brunch with her girlfriends, and takes yoga, and starts too many sewing projects she'll never finish, and wears high heels to the grocery store, and butchers showtunes on the piano, and goes to Anthropologie "just to look," and bakes muffins for her family. I need to be her.
But it ended very nicely, with me thanking them for everything, and with the Artistic Director telling me how they were proud of me, and very pleased with my performance.
Praise? From the Company? A Christmas miracle.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Red, White and Blonde
"You know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are? Anchor chains, plain motors, and train whistles."
~ George Bailey, It's a Wonderful Life
That was exactly what I was thinking as I stood, poised to go, in Baltimore's Penn Station. It's a beautiful, big old station, with a giant Christmas tree in the middle, Frank Sinatra crooning carols in the background. I still think there's something sort of romantic and exciting about train travel. Or maybe it's just that escaping from tour is always exciting.
I practically leapt onto the Amtrak, and a mere 45 minutes later, I was in Union Station, greeted by a giant tree decorated with American flags. Red, White and Blonde: the interstate ingenue does DC!
I metro-ed to Dupont Circle, to make sure I got in a trip to my favorite bookstore, and obvi to check out the gay holiday cards at Lambda Rising (I JUST missed the Gay Men's Chorus Baby It's Gay Outside holiday show, there are no words for how upset I am). I was so happy surrounded by all the cheery, attractive gay couples in expensive sweaters: it truly felt like home for the holidays. I walked from Dupont to the mall, saw the White House decorated with Christmas garlands, and the National Christmas Tree!
In 1923, Grace Coolidge wanted to decorate a national tree, so they got one from the President's home state of Vermont - yes, the first national christmas tree was donated by none other than MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE! I was so excited. Like embarassingly excited. Like one voicemail away from being an official middlebury alumni stalker excited.
In addition to the big tree, each state (and rando territory like Samoa) does a little tree. For the first time, it hit me just how many states I've been to, and I started to get a little mushy. There was Connecticut, with its slightly stodgy Harriet Beecher quotes. Michigan, with perfectly quilted mini-mittens. Wisconsin, with sequin popsicle sticks. Indiana, with a hot mess that I think was supposed to be calico log cabins. I have seen so much of this country, and although all of it so different, I feel like I understand it better. More than ever I feel like I know what it means to be an American, and standing in all those Christmas trees, surrounded by the arts and crafts glue-stained blood, sweat and tears of a hundred elementary school art classes, at the dawn of a new era in American politics, and I felt...hope. Pure, simple, hope. From Maine to Michigan, we're all just people stuck with shitty popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue, trying to make something better, you know? And I feel like it will be better. It was a little christmas miracle.
Before I started crying on the tree of American Samoa, I headed over to the Lincoln exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery, then Museum of American history, which just just JUST reopened in November, so I spent nearly three hours geeking out. I then met up with a friend from highschool who lives in Dupont, and works distributing pediatric AIDS care/preventative medicine to Africa (yeah, it's sort of amazing, she's sort of amazing, the clusterfuck that is the current administration's policy towards AIDS prevention/contraception is amazing in the bad way), and we had a girly sleepover/long, gossipy 2 martini dinner at a little Italian place.
The next morning, I saw the Christmas trian at the National Botanical Gardens/Conservatory, gave the Museum of the American Indian a second chance (I really think it could be much better done), and spent a fifth of my paycheck on shoes. I know, I know, I'm bad - but they were blue faux-suede! And the brand was "Poetic Licencse of London!" And they had Leopard-pint heels!" And as the salesguy shook his dreads and told me, "it is all about the heels, girl!" He said, "put em in box, stick em under your tree, and say 'Merry Christmas to me, you fabulous little thing you!' You deserve it!" He's right. I do. Cha-ching.
On the way to the metro, I strolled through the Dupont farmer's market, and ran into a friend from school, of all things. Long story short, I got kicked out of a farmer's market for being too loud. I think that's pretty special. But really, what do you expect when two theatre majors unpexpectedly run into eachother in the streets and start catching up from their diaphragms?
All too soon, I was back on the Amtrak, then back in Baltimore. I will say this for Towson, MD: it obviously has a sense of style, as people love my clothes here. The girl at the Bel-Loc diner wanted to know where I got my pink coat (J.Crew Outlet in Lancaster, PA, bitches!) One of the front desk girls wanted to know where I got my alpine-y jumper (Charlotte Russe in the Asheveville NC Mall, hos!) As she said, "I like me that hookup. I need to get somethin for New Year's, and I like that hookup." I like my hookup too.
I leave this weekend four books and two leopard-print high heels richer.
Land of the free and home of the brave, baby.
~ George Bailey, It's a Wonderful Life
That was exactly what I was thinking as I stood, poised to go, in Baltimore's Penn Station. It's a beautiful, big old station, with a giant Christmas tree in the middle, Frank Sinatra crooning carols in the background. I still think there's something sort of romantic and exciting about train travel. Or maybe it's just that escaping from tour is always exciting.
I practically leapt onto the Amtrak, and a mere 45 minutes later, I was in Union Station, greeted by a giant tree decorated with American flags. Red, White and Blonde: the interstate ingenue does DC!
I metro-ed to Dupont Circle, to make sure I got in a trip to my favorite bookstore, and obvi to check out the gay holiday cards at Lambda Rising (I JUST missed the Gay Men's Chorus Baby It's Gay Outside holiday show, there are no words for how upset I am). I was so happy surrounded by all the cheery, attractive gay couples in expensive sweaters: it truly felt like home for the holidays. I walked from Dupont to the mall, saw the White House decorated with Christmas garlands, and the National Christmas Tree!
In 1923, Grace Coolidge wanted to decorate a national tree, so they got one from the President's home state of Vermont - yes, the first national christmas tree was donated by none other than MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE! I was so excited. Like embarassingly excited. Like one voicemail away from being an official middlebury alumni stalker excited.
In addition to the big tree, each state (and rando territory like Samoa) does a little tree. For the first time, it hit me just how many states I've been to, and I started to get a little mushy. There was Connecticut, with its slightly stodgy Harriet Beecher quotes. Michigan, with perfectly quilted mini-mittens. Wisconsin, with sequin popsicle sticks. Indiana, with a hot mess that I think was supposed to be calico log cabins. I have seen so much of this country, and although all of it so different, I feel like I understand it better. More than ever I feel like I know what it means to be an American, and standing in all those Christmas trees, surrounded by the arts and crafts glue-stained blood, sweat and tears of a hundred elementary school art classes, at the dawn of a new era in American politics, and I felt...hope. Pure, simple, hope. From Maine to Michigan, we're all just people stuck with shitty popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue, trying to make something better, you know? And I feel like it will be better. It was a little christmas miracle.
Before I started crying on the tree of American Samoa, I headed over to the Lincoln exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery, then Museum of American history, which just just JUST reopened in November, so I spent nearly three hours geeking out. I then met up with a friend from highschool who lives in Dupont, and works distributing pediatric AIDS care/preventative medicine to Africa (yeah, it's sort of amazing, she's sort of amazing, the clusterfuck that is the current administration's policy towards AIDS prevention/contraception is amazing in the bad way), and we had a girly sleepover/long, gossipy 2 martini dinner at a little Italian place.
The next morning, I saw the Christmas trian at the National Botanical Gardens/Conservatory, gave the Museum of the American Indian a second chance (I really think it could be much better done), and spent a fifth of my paycheck on shoes. I know, I know, I'm bad - but they were blue faux-suede! And the brand was "Poetic Licencse of London!" And they had Leopard-pint heels!" And as the salesguy shook his dreads and told me, "it is all about the heels, girl!" He said, "put em in box, stick em under your tree, and say 'Merry Christmas to me, you fabulous little thing you!' You deserve it!" He's right. I do. Cha-ching.
On the way to the metro, I strolled through the Dupont farmer's market, and ran into a friend from school, of all things. Long story short, I got kicked out of a farmer's market for being too loud. I think that's pretty special. But really, what do you expect when two theatre majors unpexpectedly run into eachother in the streets and start catching up from their diaphragms?
All too soon, I was back on the Amtrak, then back in Baltimore. I will say this for Towson, MD: it obviously has a sense of style, as people love my clothes here. The girl at the Bel-Loc diner wanted to know where I got my pink coat (J.Crew Outlet in Lancaster, PA, bitches!) One of the front desk girls wanted to know where I got my alpine-y jumper (Charlotte Russe in the Asheveville NC Mall, hos!) As she said, "I like me that hookup. I need to get somethin for New Year's, and I like that hookup." I like my hookup too.
I leave this weekend four books and two leopard-print high heels richer.
Land of the free and home of the brave, baby.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Shanghaied Snow Day
You know that magical moment when you were little, when you hoped and prayed and dreamed for a Snow Day, when you wore lucky snow pajamas to bed, or put a wooden spoon under your pillow (my mom swears it works), and then you woke up to a magical winter wonderland and the two most delightful words in a fourth grader's lexicon: SNOW DAY? Well, guess what: if you pick the right career you can keep that magic alive! Yes, become an actor and you never have to grow up. Here's yet another reason why. When the Worcester Mass schoolboard cancels school, the kiddies just can't make it out to the nation's premier educational children's theatre. Darn. So as I was brushing my teeth and I heard a gentle knock at my door at 7 am, it was SM, who was prancing down the halls with a beatific smile on his face, and then he sang out "SNOW DAY!" Immediately, Frog and LightingGirl and SM and I started dancing around yelling SNOW DAY SNOW DAY
Three hours later, Brom and Other actress driving/naving the van hit the road with Soundboy in the front, me and Frog in the middle, and LightingGirl in the back. We were passing a delightful time of it, Frog was reading my tarot cards and I was reading bad Christmas-themed romance novels (A Wallflower Christmas? Snowy Night With a Stranger? You're not familiar? No?), and had just taken our first stop at a Sunoco/Dunkin Donuts (those egg white flatbreads are surprisingly delicious!) when we recieved an emergency call - the truck had gotten pulled over and it didn't have paperwork. We sped to the rescue of SM and Ichabod, but it turned out we didn't even give them the right paperwork, because this tour is concrete proof that Murphy's Law is incontrovertible fact, and those poor guys were stuck there for an hour. Rough.
Ah, rough was only just beginning. We were driving through New York, and Brom and Other Actress really wanted to stop so Brom could get a new key and SoundBoy could get money from someone and Other Actress could talk to her friend about getting an apartment. LightingGirl, Frog and I were off towards a street with restaurants.
We flirted with the idea of going to Sissy McGinty's to drown our sorrows in a pint,but decided to go for Thai instead. As it was like 3:40, we were the only people in there, and had a truly phenomenal feast. So much peanut sauce...the three of us had a really nice time together. It was so fun, and relaxing.
Mega-unfortunately, the route Garmin took us out of the city drove us through...the middle of Times Square. In rush hour. In a fifteen passenger white van.
I thought we were going to die many, many times. Eventually I just smushed a pillow next to Frog, totally hogged the seat and lay down, closed my eyes, as I felt it was better not to know. I would actually prefer not to face my own mortality until absolutely necessary. I listened to the faint hums of Frog's Christmas playlist, and went to different Happy Places in my head. Like Pemberly in the BBC Pride and Prejudice. And Epcot Paris. And the Wonderland of Ice. Basically, anywhere that wasn't that motherfucking van.
I spent the rest of the drive falling in and out of sleep. I need to stop reading bad Regency romances before I go to sleep, because I keep having weird dreams in which all I see is brocade.
Anyway, we got in to the Towson Maryland Comfort Inn at just about 10.
God dammit. I need to stop drinking 2 liter bottles of orange soda in bed. I always wake up orange and sticky.
Three hours later, Brom and Other actress driving/naving the van hit the road with Soundboy in the front, me and Frog in the middle, and LightingGirl in the back. We were passing a delightful time of it, Frog was reading my tarot cards and I was reading bad Christmas-themed romance novels (A Wallflower Christmas? Snowy Night With a Stranger? You're not familiar? No?), and had just taken our first stop at a Sunoco/Dunkin Donuts (those egg white flatbreads are surprisingly delicious!) when we recieved an emergency call - the truck had gotten pulled over and it didn't have paperwork. We sped to the rescue of SM and Ichabod, but it turned out we didn't even give them the right paperwork, because this tour is concrete proof that Murphy's Law is incontrovertible fact, and those poor guys were stuck there for an hour. Rough.
Ah, rough was only just beginning. We were driving through New York, and Brom and Other Actress really wanted to stop so Brom could get a new key and SoundBoy could get money from someone and Other Actress could talk to her friend about getting an apartment. LightingGirl, Frog and I were off towards a street with restaurants.
We flirted with the idea of going to Sissy McGinty's to drown our sorrows in a pint,but decided to go for Thai instead. As it was like 3:40, we were the only people in there, and had a truly phenomenal feast. So much peanut sauce...the three of us had a really nice time together. It was so fun, and relaxing.
Mega-unfortunately, the route Garmin took us out of the city drove us through...the middle of Times Square. In rush hour. In a fifteen passenger white van.
I thought we were going to die many, many times. Eventually I just smushed a pillow next to Frog, totally hogged the seat and lay down, closed my eyes, as I felt it was better not to know. I would actually prefer not to face my own mortality until absolutely necessary. I listened to the faint hums of Frog's Christmas playlist, and went to different Happy Places in my head. Like Pemberly in the BBC Pride and Prejudice. And Epcot Paris. And the Wonderland of Ice. Basically, anywhere that wasn't that motherfucking van.
I spent the rest of the drive falling in and out of sleep. I need to stop reading bad Regency romances before I go to sleep, because I keep having weird dreams in which all I see is brocade.
Anyway, we got in to the Towson Maryland Comfort Inn at just about 10.
God dammit. I need to stop drinking 2 liter bottles of orange soda in bed. I always wake up orange and sticky.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Back to the East Coast
Crew Guy: How's the show going?
SM: Well, we've got some loud kids...
Crew Guy: It's New York.
True dat, my friends. We've been rerouted, taking over Encore 3's route for the week, which took us to Long Island on a waaay too early morning the night after the Truck Debacle. We were at Queensborough Community College, which was a fine space, and an easy enough load-in, and the Crew Guys had accents thick enough to cut through lox, which was enjoyable. And yet, even a trip to the College bookstore with Ichabod, Frog and Soundboy to buy The Tales of Beedle the Bard and not one, not two, not three, but FOUR wild cherry diet pepsis wasn't enough to fully wake me up.
The audience, however, was far from dead. SM decided to bust out the "loud and rowdy" emergency speech for the first time, which I guess was good, but I was sad it cut down on the fun comments, such as when a couple girls yelled "Hey hey hey!" when the TellTale Narrator (aka Brom) took off his jacket.
Man, we just cannot catch a break this week. For whatever reason, the sound was totally messed up. Poor SoundBoy - it wasn't his fault (I don't think), but he must have been miserable. He's sick anyway, and spent all of the Truck Debacle night when were stuck in the van asleep on a pillow in my lap. It was comfortin, in a weird way- like having a very large cat who smells like cigarettes and 20 year old boy. Anyway, the sound came out verrrry verrry quietly - like so quietly we could barely hear it onstage, let alone in the house. This resulted in SoundBoy trying to do some of the cues himself, like making clicking noises with his tongue for the hoofbeat sound cue. It also resulted in one of my favorited improv-ed moments. Frog, doing his Schoolboy dance as Katrina's Rustic Admirer, felt like he needed to fill the silence, shimmied over, shouted "Ya like that?", plopped down on the bench, and promptly hit me in the boobs with the bouquet. Surprised, I immediately looked at my boobs, then looked out at the audience in horrified giggleshock, and we all had a moment of boob giggles together. It really wasn't that saucy, except that the number one rule of children's theatre is NO BOOBS. You cannot acknowledge boobs. You cannot see a hint of boobs. You cannot even see shoulders, as they are too close to boobs. That's why all my costumes have giant bows over the boobs. If anyone accidentally touches or references them, it's not about the boobs, it's about the bows. (Except for my Necklace ballgown, which has a silver lace cleavage blocker.)
Today we were in Springfield. I have now officially completed the entire Small Squad Co-Ed Competitive College Cheer Circuit - for the second time. We were in the Symphony Hall (not the Basketball Hall of Fame this time) which was a nice space. It was sort of Federal-architecture style, and there were Christmas garlands up, but everyone is just kind of testy and grumpy and sick of eachother and freaking EXHAUSTED so it's hard to enjoy anything. The show was good, and it was a pretty easy day.
Now, Repercussion Number A Million from the Truck Debacle is that Brom and Other Actress are now no longer the truck. Keeping in mind that The Office lost Frog's trucking license, this means we are now down to only 5 truck drivers. Which SUUUUUCKS. Because I freakin hate driving the truck. Luckily, Ichabod volunteered to sub in for Brom (who was supposed to be my nav) AND on top of that, even offered to drive. Don't let the curmudgeonly exterior fool you - it's all a front. He's the best.
After a minor truck-wouldn't-turn-on panic, we made it to Worcester. There's not much to do here. Not that we have the energy to do much. Most of us took a field trip to Target, where I discovered, unfortunatley, that not even snowflake bras and hot cocoa undies can warm my heart.
Not on a rainy day in Worcester, any way.
SM: Well, we've got some loud kids...
Crew Guy: It's New York.
True dat, my friends. We've been rerouted, taking over Encore 3's route for the week, which took us to Long Island on a waaay too early morning the night after the Truck Debacle. We were at Queensborough Community College, which was a fine space, and an easy enough load-in, and the Crew Guys had accents thick enough to cut through lox, which was enjoyable. And yet, even a trip to the College bookstore with Ichabod, Frog and Soundboy to buy The Tales of Beedle the Bard and not one, not two, not three, but FOUR wild cherry diet pepsis wasn't enough to fully wake me up.
The audience, however, was far from dead. SM decided to bust out the "loud and rowdy" emergency speech for the first time, which I guess was good, but I was sad it cut down on the fun comments, such as when a couple girls yelled "Hey hey hey!" when the TellTale Narrator (aka Brom) took off his jacket.
Man, we just cannot catch a break this week. For whatever reason, the sound was totally messed up. Poor SoundBoy - it wasn't his fault (I don't think), but he must have been miserable. He's sick anyway, and spent all of the Truck Debacle night when were stuck in the van asleep on a pillow in my lap. It was comfortin, in a weird way- like having a very large cat who smells like cigarettes and 20 year old boy. Anyway, the sound came out verrrry verrry quietly - like so quietly we could barely hear it onstage, let alone in the house. This resulted in SoundBoy trying to do some of the cues himself, like making clicking noises with his tongue for the hoofbeat sound cue. It also resulted in one of my favorited improv-ed moments. Frog, doing his Schoolboy dance as Katrina's Rustic Admirer, felt like he needed to fill the silence, shimmied over, shouted "Ya like that?", plopped down on the bench, and promptly hit me in the boobs with the bouquet. Surprised, I immediately looked at my boobs, then looked out at the audience in horrified giggleshock, and we all had a moment of boob giggles together. It really wasn't that saucy, except that the number one rule of children's theatre is NO BOOBS. You cannot acknowledge boobs. You cannot see a hint of boobs. You cannot even see shoulders, as they are too close to boobs. That's why all my costumes have giant bows over the boobs. If anyone accidentally touches or references them, it's not about the boobs, it's about the bows. (Except for my Necklace ballgown, which has a silver lace cleavage blocker.)
Today we were in Springfield. I have now officially completed the entire Small Squad Co-Ed Competitive College Cheer Circuit - for the second time. We were in the Symphony Hall (not the Basketball Hall of Fame this time) which was a nice space. It was sort of Federal-architecture style, and there were Christmas garlands up, but everyone is just kind of testy and grumpy and sick of eachother and freaking EXHAUSTED so it's hard to enjoy anything. The show was good, and it was a pretty easy day.
Now, Repercussion Number A Million from the Truck Debacle is that Brom and Other Actress are now no longer the truck. Keeping in mind that The Office lost Frog's trucking license, this means we are now down to only 5 truck drivers. Which SUUUUUCKS. Because I freakin hate driving the truck. Luckily, Ichabod volunteered to sub in for Brom (who was supposed to be my nav) AND on top of that, even offered to drive. Don't let the curmudgeonly exterior fool you - it's all a front. He's the best.
After a minor truck-wouldn't-turn-on panic, we made it to Worcester. There's not much to do here. Not that we have the energy to do much. Most of us took a field trip to Target, where I discovered, unfortunatley, that not even snowflake bras and hot cocoa undies can warm my heart.
Not on a rainy day in Worcester, any way.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
From Capitol to Catastrophe
OMG.
Wait - let me rephrase that. OMFG. OMFG. OMFG.
That's Oh MY FUCKING GOD, btdubs.
I'll get there. And I can promise this post ends with a bang. And a whimper. But for now, we're going to rewind a few days, so visualize that swirly screen thing that happens on sitcoms for flashbacks. Doo doo doo dooo.
Like I said, I finished my Pennsylvania Experience this weekend. Saturday I went to the Farmer's Market in Lancaster PA with my parents. I love farmer's markets. They're basically an excuse to eat cookies and feel like you're doing something quaint and cultural. This one was no exception, and was especially awesome because it was all Amish and shit. I bought the aforementioned three cookie (they were little), an Amish quilted apron with a harvest squash motif, and a Pennsylvania dutch hex sign embroidery kit. Hmm - those are special purchases. I am a special girl.
In the afternoon, we collected Babysister from her dorm and headed off to Hershey, PA. Hershey is sort of weird. The town is kind of bleak, and it didn't help that it was a grey day and cold as fuck. The actual Chocolate Experience itself is pretty much a giant chocolate store. Not that there's anything wrong with that. We sort of wen on a kiss-buying spree. (there were pumpkin spice kisses. PUMPKIN SPICE, people!) More importantly, we went on a magical Disney-style ride complete with singing cow animatrons in which we learned the story of the journey of the cocoa bean. It is the milk that makes Hershey's so special - didja know?
Pennsylvania completed, I headed off for our nation's capitol. Unfortunately, it was pretty heinous. We couldn't find the right loading dock and were 15 minutes late for call time due to lack of directions/people not telling us where to go, then SM and lady in charge got in sort of an ugly fight. There was stuff in the way in the parking lot AND on the stage (hello, baby grand!) and our crew (when they were around - they kept wandering off) had absolutely no idea what the fuck they were doing. At one point they almost made us rehang entirely new lights after telling us we didn't need to because they thought they *might* want to keep them focused for the Holiday Show on Thursday. AUUUGHH. Finally we're at places, waiting in the wings, and we hear...nothing. Silence. I start to wonder if there's some kind of plague that's hit the audience and is slowly spreading. Or if there's a silent monster killing them and on its way back for us. No, just turns out we're missing...400 kids. Yup, FOUR HUNDRED. Who of course come trooping all throughout the first act. To be fair, they did try to be quiet. But still - they're 400 kids. And just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the cops show up backstage. Why? One of the ladies who works at the venue can't find her wallet, and accuses Soundboy of stealing it. Um, quoi? Soundboy has many faults, but kleptomania is not among them. The cops actually try to take him away WHILE HE IS RUNNING OUR SOUNDBOARD DURING THE SHOW. I know. He finished the show, thankfully, and it turned out the lady left her wallet at home. Thanks, crazyface!
I then drove the van all the way from DC to Purchase, NY. That might be the longest drive I've ever done - it's like 5 hrs. God, I'm such a bad driver, it's almost unethical that I took this job. But whatevs, we made it there in one piece. On the drive there was much discussion about how this was the worst day on tour (bad load in plus bad crew plus accusations of thievery plus longass drive), and how this was going to be such a bad week. We were scheduled to go to Boston on Wednesday, where the Powers that Be from the office (producer, artistic director, etc.) were to see the show and give us pages and pages of horrifying notes. I was dreading it like crazy. I knew my arms hadn't gotten any longer, and I am as unelegant as always. But at least there was no way things good worse, we told ourselves.
I'm gonna teach you a word. Hubris: pride which tempts the gods. I learned this playing Cordelia in King Lear at a Cambridge summer program junior year. Lord, what fools we mortals be.
Today was an easy load-in. Sure, we accidentally loaded in to the wrong theatre (Purchase College has 3 theatres. We were supposed to be in B, not A. Whoopsie!) which was actually not that bad, as we were in a nicer theatre, but I did feel really bad for SM who got a beatdown from the office. But the space was nice, the crew was good, we had our own dressing rooms (Katy Perry dance party!) and the audience seemed really into the show. I was looking forward to seeing my friends in Boston (I even stole the hairspray from the makeup box for the occasion) and was bopping around with a Katy Perry song in my head during load out.
We then went to the Hub, the campus eatery, which is delicious, and I was just placing my delicious-looking turkey/pepperjack/honey mustard spinach wrap on the table, when I see SM on the phone, everyone looking worried, and Frog whispers, "they crashed the truck."
Heart. Stopped. Thank God we quickly learned that Brom and Other Actress (who were in the truck) were ok, but they'd driven the truck on the Hutchinson parkway, gone under a bridge they didn't have clearance for, and ripped the top clean off like a tin of sardines. As the cop at the scene of the accident said, "the stone wall always wins."
Oh, the madness. We finished lunch, and after some searching, found them on the side of the road. The truck looked awful - the top was completely off and crinkled away. We waited on the side of the road for awhile, then went to a Mobil rest stop (the Connecticut Welcome Center, in fact) and waited there for a while, then drove to the towing place and waited there for a while. Frog and I went in to find a bathroom, where we bonded with Tracy, the desk girl. The couches were really comfy, and we had a nice chat with her and the cop (who was there for an unrelated reason) about how this happens with trucks about once a month. The office decided to reroute our tour from Boston to Long Island, which is good because it's a shorter drive and we don't have to deal with 1. the scariness of getting notes tomorrow and 2. the fury at the truck situation that would have awaited us, but I was really upset about not being able to see my friends from school. I mean I saw these people like 24/7 for a year, and now I never see them, and I miss them, and who the heck knows when I'll be back in Boston....sigh.
We escaped for a little bit to a diner, then returned and waited some more, finally went to the Ryder truck place, waited there, then had to completely unload our truck and repack it into a new truck, waited to figure out directions to the hotel, then finally, finally got there.
In Conclusion:
6:30 am - Wake Up Call
7:30 am - Load in to theatre
10:30 am - Perform Show
12:30 pm - Load out of theatre
1:30 pm - Truck hits bridge
10:30 pm - Finish towing, waiting at tow yard, driving to Ryder Truck Center, ripping door off old truck, and crossloading into new truck
12:30 am - Arrive at hotel
LONGEST. FUCKING. DAY. EVER.
whimper.
Wait - let me rephrase that. OMFG. OMFG. OMFG.
That's Oh MY FUCKING GOD, btdubs.
I'll get there. And I can promise this post ends with a bang. And a whimper. But for now, we're going to rewind a few days, so visualize that swirly screen thing that happens on sitcoms for flashbacks. Doo doo doo dooo.
Like I said, I finished my Pennsylvania Experience this weekend. Saturday I went to the Farmer's Market in Lancaster PA with my parents. I love farmer's markets. They're basically an excuse to eat cookies and feel like you're doing something quaint and cultural. This one was no exception, and was especially awesome because it was all Amish and shit. I bought the aforementioned three cookie (they were little), an Amish quilted apron with a harvest squash motif, and a Pennsylvania dutch hex sign embroidery kit. Hmm - those are special purchases. I am a special girl.
In the afternoon, we collected Babysister from her dorm and headed off to Hershey, PA. Hershey is sort of weird. The town is kind of bleak, and it didn't help that it was a grey day and cold as fuck. The actual Chocolate Experience itself is pretty much a giant chocolate store. Not that there's anything wrong with that. We sort of wen on a kiss-buying spree. (there were pumpkin spice kisses. PUMPKIN SPICE, people!) More importantly, we went on a magical Disney-style ride complete with singing cow animatrons in which we learned the story of the journey of the cocoa bean. It is the milk that makes Hershey's so special - didja know?
Pennsylvania completed, I headed off for our nation's capitol. Unfortunately, it was pretty heinous. We couldn't find the right loading dock and were 15 minutes late for call time due to lack of directions/people not telling us where to go, then SM and lady in charge got in sort of an ugly fight. There was stuff in the way in the parking lot AND on the stage (hello, baby grand!) and our crew (when they were around - they kept wandering off) had absolutely no idea what the fuck they were doing. At one point they almost made us rehang entirely new lights after telling us we didn't need to because they thought they *might* want to keep them focused for the Holiday Show on Thursday. AUUUGHH. Finally we're at places, waiting in the wings, and we hear...nothing. Silence. I start to wonder if there's some kind of plague that's hit the audience and is slowly spreading. Or if there's a silent monster killing them and on its way back for us. No, just turns out we're missing...400 kids. Yup, FOUR HUNDRED. Who of course come trooping all throughout the first act. To be fair, they did try to be quiet. But still - they're 400 kids. And just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the cops show up backstage. Why? One of the ladies who works at the venue can't find her wallet, and accuses Soundboy of stealing it. Um, quoi? Soundboy has many faults, but kleptomania is not among them. The cops actually try to take him away WHILE HE IS RUNNING OUR SOUNDBOARD DURING THE SHOW. I know. He finished the show, thankfully, and it turned out the lady left her wallet at home. Thanks, crazyface!
I then drove the van all the way from DC to Purchase, NY. That might be the longest drive I've ever done - it's like 5 hrs. God, I'm such a bad driver, it's almost unethical that I took this job. But whatevs, we made it there in one piece. On the drive there was much discussion about how this was the worst day on tour (bad load in plus bad crew plus accusations of thievery plus longass drive), and how this was going to be such a bad week. We were scheduled to go to Boston on Wednesday, where the Powers that Be from the office (producer, artistic director, etc.) were to see the show and give us pages and pages of horrifying notes. I was dreading it like crazy. I knew my arms hadn't gotten any longer, and I am as unelegant as always. But at least there was no way things good worse, we told ourselves.
I'm gonna teach you a word. Hubris: pride which tempts the gods. I learned this playing Cordelia in King Lear at a Cambridge summer program junior year. Lord, what fools we mortals be.
Today was an easy load-in. Sure, we accidentally loaded in to the wrong theatre (Purchase College has 3 theatres. We were supposed to be in B, not A. Whoopsie!) which was actually not that bad, as we were in a nicer theatre, but I did feel really bad for SM who got a beatdown from the office. But the space was nice, the crew was good, we had our own dressing rooms (Katy Perry dance party!) and the audience seemed really into the show. I was looking forward to seeing my friends in Boston (I even stole the hairspray from the makeup box for the occasion) and was bopping around with a Katy Perry song in my head during load out.
We then went to the Hub, the campus eatery, which is delicious, and I was just placing my delicious-looking turkey/pepperjack/honey mustard spinach wrap on the table, when I see SM on the phone, everyone looking worried, and Frog whispers, "they crashed the truck."
Heart. Stopped. Thank God we quickly learned that Brom and Other Actress (who were in the truck) were ok, but they'd driven the truck on the Hutchinson parkway, gone under a bridge they didn't have clearance for, and ripped the top clean off like a tin of sardines. As the cop at the scene of the accident said, "the stone wall always wins."
Oh, the madness. We finished lunch, and after some searching, found them on the side of the road. The truck looked awful - the top was completely off and crinkled away. We waited on the side of the road for awhile, then went to a Mobil rest stop (the Connecticut Welcome Center, in fact) and waited there for a while, then drove to the towing place and waited there for a while. Frog and I went in to find a bathroom, where we bonded with Tracy, the desk girl. The couches were really comfy, and we had a nice chat with her and the cop (who was there for an unrelated reason) about how this happens with trucks about once a month. The office decided to reroute our tour from Boston to Long Island, which is good because it's a shorter drive and we don't have to deal with 1. the scariness of getting notes tomorrow and 2. the fury at the truck situation that would have awaited us, but I was really upset about not being able to see my friends from school. I mean I saw these people like 24/7 for a year, and now I never see them, and I miss them, and who the heck knows when I'll be back in Boston....sigh.
We escaped for a little bit to a diner, then returned and waited some more, finally went to the Ryder truck place, waited there, then had to completely unload our truck and repack it into a new truck, waited to figure out directions to the hotel, then finally, finally got there.
In Conclusion:
6:30 am - Wake Up Call
7:30 am - Load in to theatre
10:30 am - Perform Show
12:30 pm - Load out of theatre
1:30 pm - Truck hits bridge
10:30 pm - Finish towing, waiting at tow yard, driving to Ryder Truck Center, ripping door off old truck, and crossloading into new truck
12:30 am - Arrive at hotel
LONGEST. FUCKING. DAY. EVER.
whimper.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Got Liberty?
The Week In Review aka Roundup of Mistakes I Routinely Make:
Items Broken: 1 shattered coffee carafe
Clothing Items Lost: ALMOST 1 pair of boot covers (returned at last minute by eagle-eyed crew member)
Falls: 1 Running during The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. Opted not to stand up after I wiped out, but instead crawl offstage on all fours like an embarassed puppy. Probably was not the best decision.
At this point I've seen so much of Pennsylvania that I'm practically Amish. Or a cheesesteak. The good thing is, it just keeps getting better!
Yeah, Allentown is bleak and a HALF. Ugh at our first theatre, there was a double ramp load-in situation with a drunk crewmember at load-out. In all fairness, the seconde day in Allentown was much better. We played the Symphony Hall/Lyric Theater, which was really pretty, and the dressing room was on the same level as the stage which makes my life a lot easier. Plus it was one of our youngest (and by default, more attractive) crews, which I always enjoy. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm bad, but sue me - I'm 22, blonde, and a little bit shallow. More importantly than quasi-attractive crews (surprising how much cuter they get the longer we're on the road...), Frog is from right around there (like 20 min. away in a town known as East Stroudsburg), and on our second night in the Soviet Gulag of Allentown, he drove us away into the Poconos Mountains. And let me just say, it was BEAUTIFUL! Loves it, totally loves it. Frog took us to the Shawnee Playhouse, where he used to work. As we drove in, we passed a golf course - ah, just like home. Shawnee is a beautiful old inn with a golf course and a theatre nestled in among the mountains - it felt like White Christmas. We got to run around the theatre (fireplaces and timbered ceilings oh my!) and then walk to the cutest general store for delicious sandwich snacktime. It was all so picturesque and holiday spirity and I was just happy. Which is nice - that's not a sensation I enjoy offstage all that often. We then went to this crazy cave that has a cold draft due to some weird underground lake situation. It was cool - badumching! The evening finished off with meeting Frog's dogs and having dinner with his family (fun deliciousness.) It was just a great day.
Next stop on our Pennsylvania whirlwind was Philadelphia - city of brotherly love. Well, actually, we were staying in glamorous Fort Washington, but lucky for me, my 'rents were in town (to transport me to my sister's dance show), so I got to drive into the actual city.
I've never been to Philly. And let me tell you, my little history dork heart was pounding in perfect time with the overture to 1776. We saw the square with all the Continental Congress buildings, and the Liberty Bell, which was cool, although I really didn't get to fully appreciate all the Liberty Bell displays because I had to pee like a mofo and apparently, the right to pee is not inalienable, and all the bathrooms are in one bizarre freestanding bathroom complex which necessitated a dash accross the green. By far the best, though, was the Betsy Ross house. It's such a nice house and they did a great job restoring it and basically, I just live for that shit. History PLUS needlecrafts = excellent. Philly only got better, as I got to have dinner with a friend I've been in school with since 8th grade (yep, that includes highschool AND college.) And he's now teaching, which is funny, as he was a big part of my Social Studies experience too. Ha ha. It was really nice to see him, and to hear all about his school and life in the real world (you know, not alterna-tour-reality.) Although he didn't need to sound QUITE so astonished at the fact that I drive a truck...although really, only people who saw me go through the horrors of driving school really understand just how ludicrous it is that I drive a truck on major roads.
The show in Philly (ok, actually Glenside, which is a suburb) was just fine. The crew was awesome, which always helps. They had funny nicknames, like "Emo" and "Igz." I especially liked the dressing rooms, as they were cozy. Mine and other actress's said "Hospitality" on the door and was decorated with a sunflower theme, including several fake sunflower potted plant arrangements. Charming!
So my parents picked me up after the show and we drove to yet another town in PA, Lancaster, so see my little sister's dance show.
Ok, so I don't really like dance. There's no talking! I can handle a line of tappers. Or sailors doing highkicks. Or chorus girls in sequins. But I really, really don't like modern dance. I went to one modern dane show at school, and there was a giant bowl of pudding, and they all yelled "pudding pudding pudding pudding" and hopped around throwing pudding on themselves. Yeah...once was enough. I also have this weird prejudice against dancers, where I constantly judge/assume they're all shallow/stupid. I think it comes from back in my performance/competitive children's choir days, when we had to share adjoining dressing rooms with a dance troupe at the West Point Christmas Concert, and they were BEYOND obnoxious and moronic and stuck on themselves and mean to us and my two best friends (who were boy sopranos) and I HAAAAAATED them and made fun of them for being stupid behind their backs. And we were like in fourth grade - so I guess that left a mark at an early age.
So suffice it to say, I was a little apprehensive. The first piece, Coat of Arms, did not reassure me. There were like 30 people running around putting coats off and on. Grrreeeat. The second piece was a girl doing a monologue about her heart stopping and hopping around. I always feel vaguely uncomfortable when dancers incorporate some sort of spoken word poetry/attempt to act. I imagine it is much like a dancer would feel watching me try to half-ass waltz/stumble my way through The Necklace. And then, the lights went out, and came up again, and there was my sister, looking absolutely stunning in her black leotard and pink shiny skirt and expertly applied stage makeup! (hmm, I wonder what talented girl did that for her...)
I think the last time I saw my sister dance, she was twirling around dressed like a pumpkin singing "nothing fills my tummy like pumpkin pie!" Boy, has she improved. As in, she is now really good. Like really, really good. And who would have thought it - we struggled through Miss Susan's dance school together, and it didn't look like either of us had a particular aptitude for dance. I spent all my time singing along to "Peppermint Candy Canes Are We" at the top of my lungs until a crew guy said "man, that kid can yell" and I was told to tone it down. Sister spent all of her time looking at the girl next to her to copy the moves, or if she was particularly unhappy, i.e. wearing a bow tied-barber shop quartet looking leotard, folding her arms, glaring, and refusing to do anything.
But there was no trace of that unhappy 4 year old monster tonight. The ballet was absolutely beautiful (it was a recreation of a Dorothy Humphries or something like that, which is apparently kind of a big deal), and I couldn't believe that leaping, long-armed graceful twirler up there was MY SISTER! I was so proud. During the bows, I yelled really loudly - as always, my one contribution to the danse.
Alas, that was not the last piece. The finale was a representation of plate tectontics through dance. A horde of girls in brown bodysuits with aborigine looking white stripes painted on them crawled accross the stage like they were in the trenches or something. They formed a Pangea like clump. There were lots of weird jerky movements. The knelt. They stood. They bopped around. They rolled and crawled. At one point it looked kind of like a rave full of white girl aborigines on coke. I don't know what was going on, man.
Next stop: Amish Country and Hershey Park. I wasn't kidding about seeing all of Pennsylvania...
Items Broken: 1 shattered coffee carafe
Clothing Items Lost: ALMOST 1 pair of boot covers (returned at last minute by eagle-eyed crew member)
Falls: 1 Running during The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. Opted not to stand up after I wiped out, but instead crawl offstage on all fours like an embarassed puppy. Probably was not the best decision.
At this point I've seen so much of Pennsylvania that I'm practically Amish. Or a cheesesteak. The good thing is, it just keeps getting better!
Yeah, Allentown is bleak and a HALF. Ugh at our first theatre, there was a double ramp load-in situation with a drunk crewmember at load-out. In all fairness, the seconde day in Allentown was much better. We played the Symphony Hall/Lyric Theater, which was really pretty, and the dressing room was on the same level as the stage which makes my life a lot easier. Plus it was one of our youngest (and by default, more attractive) crews, which I always enjoy. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm bad, but sue me - I'm 22, blonde, and a little bit shallow. More importantly than quasi-attractive crews (surprising how much cuter they get the longer we're on the road...), Frog is from right around there (like 20 min. away in a town known as East Stroudsburg), and on our second night in the Soviet Gulag of Allentown, he drove us away into the Poconos Mountains. And let me just say, it was BEAUTIFUL! Loves it, totally loves it. Frog took us to the Shawnee Playhouse, where he used to work. As we drove in, we passed a golf course - ah, just like home. Shawnee is a beautiful old inn with a golf course and a theatre nestled in among the mountains - it felt like White Christmas. We got to run around the theatre (fireplaces and timbered ceilings oh my!) and then walk to the cutest general store for delicious sandwich snacktime. It was all so picturesque and holiday spirity and I was just happy. Which is nice - that's not a sensation I enjoy offstage all that often. We then went to this crazy cave that has a cold draft due to some weird underground lake situation. It was cool - badumching! The evening finished off with meeting Frog's dogs and having dinner with his family (fun deliciousness.) It was just a great day.
Next stop on our Pennsylvania whirlwind was Philadelphia - city of brotherly love. Well, actually, we were staying in glamorous Fort Washington, but lucky for me, my 'rents were in town (to transport me to my sister's dance show), so I got to drive into the actual city.
I've never been to Philly. And let me tell you, my little history dork heart was pounding in perfect time with the overture to 1776. We saw the square with all the Continental Congress buildings, and the Liberty Bell, which was cool, although I really didn't get to fully appreciate all the Liberty Bell displays because I had to pee like a mofo and apparently, the right to pee is not inalienable, and all the bathrooms are in one bizarre freestanding bathroom complex which necessitated a dash accross the green. By far the best, though, was the Betsy Ross house. It's such a nice house and they did a great job restoring it and basically, I just live for that shit. History PLUS needlecrafts = excellent. Philly only got better, as I got to have dinner with a friend I've been in school with since 8th grade (yep, that includes highschool AND college.) And he's now teaching, which is funny, as he was a big part of my Social Studies experience too. Ha ha. It was really nice to see him, and to hear all about his school and life in the real world (you know, not alterna-tour-reality.) Although he didn't need to sound QUITE so astonished at the fact that I drive a truck...although really, only people who saw me go through the horrors of driving school really understand just how ludicrous it is that I drive a truck on major roads.
The show in Philly (ok, actually Glenside, which is a suburb) was just fine. The crew was awesome, which always helps. They had funny nicknames, like "Emo" and "Igz." I especially liked the dressing rooms, as they were cozy. Mine and other actress's said "Hospitality" on the door and was decorated with a sunflower theme, including several fake sunflower potted plant arrangements. Charming!
So my parents picked me up after the show and we drove to yet another town in PA, Lancaster, so see my little sister's dance show.
Ok, so I don't really like dance. There's no talking! I can handle a line of tappers. Or sailors doing highkicks. Or chorus girls in sequins. But I really, really don't like modern dance. I went to one modern dane show at school, and there was a giant bowl of pudding, and they all yelled "pudding pudding pudding pudding" and hopped around throwing pudding on themselves. Yeah...once was enough. I also have this weird prejudice against dancers, where I constantly judge/assume they're all shallow/stupid. I think it comes from back in my performance/competitive children's choir days, when we had to share adjoining dressing rooms with a dance troupe at the West Point Christmas Concert, and they were BEYOND obnoxious and moronic and stuck on themselves and mean to us and my two best friends (who were boy sopranos) and I HAAAAAATED them and made fun of them for being stupid behind their backs. And we were like in fourth grade - so I guess that left a mark at an early age.
So suffice it to say, I was a little apprehensive. The first piece, Coat of Arms, did not reassure me. There were like 30 people running around putting coats off and on. Grrreeeat. The second piece was a girl doing a monologue about her heart stopping and hopping around. I always feel vaguely uncomfortable when dancers incorporate some sort of spoken word poetry/attempt to act. I imagine it is much like a dancer would feel watching me try to half-ass waltz/stumble my way through The Necklace. And then, the lights went out, and came up again, and there was my sister, looking absolutely stunning in her black leotard and pink shiny skirt and expertly applied stage makeup! (hmm, I wonder what talented girl did that for her...)
I think the last time I saw my sister dance, she was twirling around dressed like a pumpkin singing "nothing fills my tummy like pumpkin pie!" Boy, has she improved. As in, she is now really good. Like really, really good. And who would have thought it - we struggled through Miss Susan's dance school together, and it didn't look like either of us had a particular aptitude for dance. I spent all my time singing along to "Peppermint Candy Canes Are We" at the top of my lungs until a crew guy said "man, that kid can yell" and I was told to tone it down. Sister spent all of her time looking at the girl next to her to copy the moves, or if she was particularly unhappy, i.e. wearing a bow tied-barber shop quartet looking leotard, folding her arms, glaring, and refusing to do anything.
But there was no trace of that unhappy 4 year old monster tonight. The ballet was absolutely beautiful (it was a recreation of a Dorothy Humphries or something like that, which is apparently kind of a big deal), and I couldn't believe that leaping, long-armed graceful twirler up there was MY SISTER! I was so proud. During the bows, I yelled really loudly - as always, my one contribution to the danse.
Alas, that was not the last piece. The finale was a representation of plate tectontics through dance. A horde of girls in brown bodysuits with aborigine looking white stripes painted on them crawled accross the stage like they were in the trenches or something. They formed a Pangea like clump. There were lots of weird jerky movements. The knelt. They stood. They bopped around. They rolled and crawled. At one point it looked kind of like a rave full of white girl aborigines on coke. I don't know what was going on, man.
Next stop: Amish Country and Hershey Park. I wasn't kidding about seeing all of Pennsylvania...
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Well We're Waiting Here in Allentown
As Ichabod wryly noted in the truck yesterday, my burst of optimism faded fast. Yeah, that was like less than 24 hours of positive attitude. And now I'm done.
Yesterday, I woke up in Trenton NJ under a mini cloud of doom - for no real reason, just the same old "ugh here we go again tour never ends!" And really, I should have been happy. I was in much better conditions than my last stay in Trenton, which was at a Howard Johnson's across from the Trenton Arena for the United Cheer Association competition. The hotel was really shitty and we were sleeping four cheerleaders to a room, which is just a lot of hairspray to have in your living space. Although Cher did perform at the Trenton Arena, which was cool. Cher did not perform at the Patriots Theater at the War Memorial of New Jersey, however. I liked it because there was a ballroom with big Tiffany blue curtains behind the stage.
Anyway, before I knew it, everyone had gotten into a big fight about where to go for lunch and when to get on the road and who was going in what vehicle and blaa bllaaaa balaa - business as usual. Although I will say that the area of Trenton we were in was actually quite cute. Trenton has quite a Revolutionary War history, and there were all these nice little old brick buildings (I don't know if they were actually Revolutionary, but they LOOKED like it.) The sandwiches at the cafe came with fortune cookies, and Soundboy gave me his, because he said it was really meant for me. It said: "Others will take notice of your positive attitude." I must be a better actress than this company gives me credit for.
Ichabod and I escaped to the truck, and pretty soon we were whizzing down the Pennsylvania Turnpike, singing along to "Fatbottomed Girls." We pulled into our Quality Inn in Allentown, which resembles a Soviet Gulag and is even more by-the-side-of-the-road-in-the-middle-of-nothing than usual.
But even with me being a whiny beeyotch, I still honestly feel that things are better than they were before break. We went on a group Target run, and I practically danced around the Christmas trees they filled me with such joy! As always I enjoyed watching House with Ichabod and Frog, and stealing their cheese. I didn't even mind driving to the doctor to pick up Soundgirl (she needs all these shots because she took a job on a cruise) because Other Actress, Soundgirl and I took a girly trip to Riteaid to look at sparkly lipgloss gift sets. We didn't buy them. But we looked.
We were in another Scottish Rite Masonic Temple today, and as usual, it was creepy as shit. We're talking paint-peeling dark dark dark subterranean dressing room situation. After wandering around a dark, shadowy corner, I final found the light switch, which illuminated...A ROW OF CREEPY OLD BARBER CHAIRS. It was like the set of a movie!! A HORROR MOVIE. I obvi did NOT put us in the barber room - thankfully there was another. When I went back up to get the boxes, I saw...A CREEPY BUG. How is there a creepy bug??? It was so cold this morning at loadin my snot froze! Shouldn't this harsh Pennsylvania weather have KILLED the CREEPY BUGS?? But no. And then Frog and Other Actress found a mysterious box of wigs (I think they were men's but Frog thinks they were butch lesbian wigs) which was also a little weird.
And now we're back in our Soviet Gulag for the second day in a row, waiting here in Allentown for the van to get back from space run so we can escape to the Poconos. I hope it gets back soon, because it's getting very hard to stay...
Yesterday, I woke up in Trenton NJ under a mini cloud of doom - for no real reason, just the same old "ugh here we go again tour never ends!" And really, I should have been happy. I was in much better conditions than my last stay in Trenton, which was at a Howard Johnson's across from the Trenton Arena for the United Cheer Association competition. The hotel was really shitty and we were sleeping four cheerleaders to a room, which is just a lot of hairspray to have in your living space. Although Cher did perform at the Trenton Arena, which was cool. Cher did not perform at the Patriots Theater at the War Memorial of New Jersey, however. I liked it because there was a ballroom with big Tiffany blue curtains behind the stage.
Anyway, before I knew it, everyone had gotten into a big fight about where to go for lunch and when to get on the road and who was going in what vehicle and blaa bllaaaa balaa - business as usual. Although I will say that the area of Trenton we were in was actually quite cute. Trenton has quite a Revolutionary War history, and there were all these nice little old brick buildings (I don't know if they were actually Revolutionary, but they LOOKED like it.) The sandwiches at the cafe came with fortune cookies, and Soundboy gave me his, because he said it was really meant for me. It said: "Others will take notice of your positive attitude." I must be a better actress than this company gives me credit for.
Ichabod and I escaped to the truck, and pretty soon we were whizzing down the Pennsylvania Turnpike, singing along to "Fatbottomed Girls." We pulled into our Quality Inn in Allentown, which resembles a Soviet Gulag and is even more by-the-side-of-the-road-in-the-middle-of-nothing than usual.
But even with me being a whiny beeyotch, I still honestly feel that things are better than they were before break. We went on a group Target run, and I practically danced around the Christmas trees they filled me with such joy! As always I enjoyed watching House with Ichabod and Frog, and stealing their cheese. I didn't even mind driving to the doctor to pick up Soundgirl (she needs all these shots because she took a job on a cruise) because Other Actress, Soundgirl and I took a girly trip to Riteaid to look at sparkly lipgloss gift sets. We didn't buy them. But we looked.
We were in another Scottish Rite Masonic Temple today, and as usual, it was creepy as shit. We're talking paint-peeling dark dark dark subterranean dressing room situation. After wandering around a dark, shadowy corner, I final found the light switch, which illuminated...A ROW OF CREEPY OLD BARBER CHAIRS. It was like the set of a movie!! A HORROR MOVIE. I obvi did NOT put us in the barber room - thankfully there was another. When I went back up to get the boxes, I saw...A CREEPY BUG. How is there a creepy bug??? It was so cold this morning at loadin my snot froze! Shouldn't this harsh Pennsylvania weather have KILLED the CREEPY BUGS?? But no. And then Frog and Other Actress found a mysterious box of wigs (I think they were men's but Frog thinks they were butch lesbian wigs) which was also a little weird.
And now we're back in our Soviet Gulag for the second day in a row, waiting here in Allentown for the van to get back from space run so we can escape to the Poconos. I hope it gets back soon, because it's getting very hard to stay...
Monday, December 1, 2008
This Feels Like High School, But Nothing's New
I don't tend to dwell on my highschool days too much. I think of them as a blur of AP flashcards and kneesocks, and leave 'em back in the recesses of my memory. Yet because I saw a bunch of friends from highschool over Thanksgiving weekend, I've been thinking about it more. My 5 year reunion is coming up this Spring, which is incredibly bizarre. Almost as bizarre as the fact that four of us, getting together, realized we'd forgotten way more people than we'd remembered. After 5 years in a graduating class of 62. More than anything, it helped me remember that all pain is passing.
When people ask me what social life on tour is like, I usually compare it to middle school...with a class of 8...stuck in a van. And yet, suddenly, somehow, it feels more like highschool. Primarily because Thanksgiving break gave me a new lease on life. Like highschool, I now feel like the end is in sight. There's a goal - not graduation, but December 24th. And I can totally, totally get through that. While we were rolling the sound cable box up the ramp, Other Actress said "you just seem so happy." And compared to where I was last week, I am so much happier. I feel like we're all getting along better, or at least everyone I had been upset with is pissing me off a lot less. Granted, it's only Monday. But I seriously feel like I'm back in senior year mindset - body in highschool, head already at college. If you know what I mean.
We were in Dover, Delaware today, and the show was sort of a challenge...due to what I'm going to tactfully refer to as "transit complications" Sound Boy didn't make it back. And our crew didn't show up. That puts us down to 7, and no crew. Did I mention it was a 7:30 load-in, not an 8? Yeaaah. But we all pulled together and everyone just got that shit done. With surprisingly cheery attitudes.
The show was kind of like highschool too - in that the stage was scuffed blond wood, the set didn't fit on it so we were doing an awkward side-scootch ballet the whole time, most of the sound cues were late (no judgements SM did the best he could filling in), the audience was small, and unresponsive. Mmm, just the Bedford Gymnasium/Auditorium of my youth.
Maybe we just needed to get away from eachother. Maybe it's the holiday spirit. But as we sat at the cutest restaurant in downtown Dover, under the pressed tin ceilings and next to the christmas, slurping our giant bowls of soup, I was happier than I've been on tour in a while.
When people ask me what social life on tour is like, I usually compare it to middle school...with a class of 8...stuck in a van. And yet, suddenly, somehow, it feels more like highschool. Primarily because Thanksgiving break gave me a new lease on life. Like highschool, I now feel like the end is in sight. There's a goal - not graduation, but December 24th. And I can totally, totally get through that. While we were rolling the sound cable box up the ramp, Other Actress said "you just seem so happy." And compared to where I was last week, I am so much happier. I feel like we're all getting along better, or at least everyone I had been upset with is pissing me off a lot less. Granted, it's only Monday. But I seriously feel like I'm back in senior year mindset - body in highschool, head already at college. If you know what I mean.
We were in Dover, Delaware today, and the show was sort of a challenge...due to what I'm going to tactfully refer to as "transit complications" Sound Boy didn't make it back. And our crew didn't show up. That puts us down to 7, and no crew. Did I mention it was a 7:30 load-in, not an 8? Yeaaah. But we all pulled together and everyone just got that shit done. With surprisingly cheery attitudes.
The show was kind of like highschool too - in that the stage was scuffed blond wood, the set didn't fit on it so we were doing an awkward side-scootch ballet the whole time, most of the sound cues were late (no judgements SM did the best he could filling in), the audience was small, and unresponsive. Mmm, just the Bedford Gymnasium/Auditorium of my youth.
Maybe we just needed to get away from eachother. Maybe it's the holiday spirit. But as we sat at the cutest restaurant in downtown Dover, under the pressed tin ceilings and next to the christmas, slurping our giant bowls of soup, I was happier than I've been on tour in a while.
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