Day 1 Take 2 was off to a great start. Even with Franklin getting on the wrong train (damn that privileged suburban upbringing) we were all there before 6 a.m. And thanks to union rules, we actually had to sit and wait until 6 a.m. to get in the van and start driving.Washington had a lot to make up for and was the only person who seemed semi-awake, so he took the wheel like a champ. We arrived to the school with plenty of time for set-up and soundcheck. WAS IT POSSIBLE?! WE BOUNCED BACK FROM OUR CURSED BEGINNINGS!
JK, of course it's not possible.
Apparently, even though we were contractually obligated to have at least one representative from the venue help set-up, the wonderful people of Bumfuk, New Jersey didn't think it was necessary to follow the rules...any of the rules. Thankfully, they had created a stage 5 feet above the ground in the center of an acoustically challenged behemoth of a gymnasium. Thankfully, we had a shit ton of heavy set pieces to carry up the rickety staircase placed on the opposite side of the enormous gymnasium. Thankfully, there were no children present during set-up to hear the copious amounts of profanities I was forced to shout...and boy did the acoustics carry those.
As we approached showtime, it was very clear we were in trouble. We had blown through our Equity breaks (that's so we can't sue them for slavery) and were already getting paid overtime for not getting our half hour to rest before curtain (that's so I can put my face on). Exhausted, we prepared for soundcheck.
And then we were approached by an angel of an educator who decided it was time to let the kids into the gym so she could sneak off for a cigarette and quickie with the vice principal. When we tried to explain that we would be unable to do a soundcheck with all of the kids entering the gym, she retorted with, "Then I guess you're not doing a soundcheck".
Dear New Jersey: SUCK IT.
We were helpless. The actors silently put on our costumes. We crossed our fingers and strapped on our never before tested mics to make our debut performance.
I'd love to go into details of the show but I'll just say this:
Pretend you dragged a DVD across a concrete block and then attempted to watch it. In one ear, you hear half the actors at an eardrum bursting volume. In the other ear, you hear half the actors through a steel barricade. The picture is skipping like crazy and you're not even sure if the movie's in English. You try to laugh and applaud at the appropriate moments, but you're kind of still trying to figure out why you dragged your DVD across the concrete block.
and suddenly we were taking our bows.
We tore down our set and compared notes on when we each blacked out during the show. I made it the longest, staying conscious until the 4th measure of the opening number.
Only one thing could save our day: The Olive Garden.
JK, nothing could save our day.
16 miles outside of Manhattan I was awoken from a nap by the smell of burning...well, the smell of burning everything. It appeared our van was smoking and we pulled over to the side of the highway with zero signs of civilization (because nothing in Jersey counts as civilization). We opened the hood and pretended like any of us had any business being under the hood of a vehicle. We each picked our favorite generic car problem (oil leak, low coolant, dead squirrel in the engine) and flipped through the manual for good measure.
Then, Washington came out from under the hood holding a torn up rubber belt and pointed out a snapped tube of wires that even the gayest of me's could tell was not how this car was built. Knowing we were screwed, we all did what any actor in distress would do...call our parents...
After none of them offered to drive from their side of the country to make it all better, we called our theatre company.
One would assume that a company which tours hundreds of shows in vans would have some form of roadside assistance. Wanna guess if mine does?
I'm assuming you guessed right, because if the answer were yes, this blog post would be over.
We had to find our own tow truck.
When Alejandro of "All Car Towing" (they're good at naming things in Jersey) showed up to drag our sorry-ass van to his shop, we noticed there was no replacement vehicle for us. We assumed there was one on its way.
JK, we knew there wasn't one on its way because we knew how F-ed we were.
When Alejandro informed the 6 of us that we would all have to go with him in the cab of his tow truck, we half-chuckled at the joke...until we realized that tattooed and burly Alejandro had probably never told a joke in his life. So like the clowns we were, we shoved into the 3 cubic inches of cab space next to Alejandro.
I'm pretty sure the shifter raped me.
10 miles later, we were at Alejandro's garage and had accepted that we would all be slaughtered and sold as ground beef. The torn up Cinderella child's sofa and discarded vacuums in front of the abandoned car wash seemed to say "RUN". But Alejandro spared us and called a cab instead.
Wanna be a cab driver in Jersey? Do you have a printer? You do? Great! Just print off 3 sheets of paper that say "Taxi" in a large Arial font, paste them to your windows and you're in business!
The "cab driver" said he could take us to the nearest train station, and after we traded some jokes about tripping on acid, he actually dropped us off at a train station. Finally we could go back to Manhattan.
JK, of course it wouldn't be that easy. We were only 4 hours into our 16 mile journey.
When a train finally arrived, we collapsed into the seats. One stop into the route, we realized we hadn't moved for a pretty solid chunk of time. The conductor came over the loudspeaker and explained that there were signal issues and we would be delayed for up to two hours.
And like the bitches of fate we were, we sat on that train for the entire two hours.
When we finally arrived at Penn Station, we looked like liberated prisoners straight out of Dachau. We couldn't even form coherent sentences and we simply stumbled away from each other with a half-hearted wave.
I have never been to Hell readers, but I bet you it will soon renovate itself to look like a trip through Jersey...as you watch our opening performance on repeat...
I can only imagine what this trip will be like once hotels are involved.
Writing my will now,
TJB: Making It
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