The Final Curtain

Given our track record, we knew this final day would be one to remember.

As we hit the 6:30 a.m. call time, we were still missing Mr. Franklin. Train trouble. Now, I'm not exactly sure where Brooklyn is, nor do I have any hopes of finding out in the future, but if I were coming from "Brooklyn" I would probably allow myself a solid 2 hours to reach the sacred isle of Manhattan.

Franklin did no such thing. So, when the train did not come, neither did Franklin.

Half an hour later, we sped to his rescue.

The school had already given us a 10 minute window to unload our set...we would not make that window. Part of me was hoping we could just cancel the show altogether and really bookend this tour the right way. Full circle!

But there we were at the school with masses of 5-10 year old children exiting their buses...the most beautiful, white (plus one equally beautiful token black child), upperclass, future ivy league Connecticut children you have ever seen. They wreaked of money.

And there to greet us was one of their mothers...a vision...the most beautiful, white, upperclass, former ivy leaguer's wife carrying her Marc Jacob bag and smiling like a Crest ad. I melted in her presence. Instantly, we were calmed.

And when the emergency alarms went off in the middle of our 20 minute build time and we had to evacuate the buildling for 15 minutes

(because why would the last day be easy?)

I didn't even care...because SHE was there whispering to us that everything would be OK. And I believed her.

And everything was OK. Despite having to perform our show on a stage the size of a New York City living room, we gave it our all one last time.

I even had a tear in my eye as I out-sang the African Princess in one final belting battle. Poor girl doesn't know what hit her.

Plus, the children loved it. Those money-birthed nanny-raised children clapped like Christmas had come early.

We left champions.

AND THEN WE HAD TO MOVE OUR SET INTO STORAGE LIKE THE MANUAL LABOR WHORES WE ARE AND HAND WASH THAT STUPID VAN AS IF MY PARENTS DIDN'T JUST PAY FOR ME TO GO TO NORTHWESTERN.

but then I got my Equity card.

useless piece of paper, I'll probably never work again...

How did these shots get poured,

TJB: Making It