World Weary

"Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
 
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
 
But then begins a journey in my head
 
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expir’d:"


-Shakespeare, Sonnet 27


Monstrous! The only word that can describe the rigors of the last 48 hours. I almost regret that I have already used the word 'harrowing' for a blog entry; for this day it would certainly have been apt. We were party to a number of misadventures, which I shall chronicle for you now:

'The Purloined Performance'

We launched into our first public performance Tuesday morning with hopes and spirits high. We arrived at the high school, with our stage already set from the previous afternoon and relaxed into our warm-ups and wardrobe. The facilities at the school were sumptuous, with a proper stage and 2,000 seat house. The real jewel of the venue was the presence of the fourth largest theater-organ in the world. It was a beautiful piece of machinery dating from 1928, that took up almost a third of the stage space. Bob, the director of the theater, proudly displayed to us the keyboard station itself, resplendent with hundreds of effects and buttons, all with a 20's vintage charm. We were able to go up into the machinery itself and see the different instruments attached to the organ; everything from a marimba to a tympani to a cowbell, each with corresponding keys. Bob said it was the 19th century equivalent of a synthesizer, and he was right. Incredible that we now carry that many sounds and more in a hand-held device.

We were also lucky in that there were two large dressings rooms, one on each side of stage. So the gents settled into one, ladies in the other. We each had our own bathroom as well, which opened into hallway of the school (much to our chagrin). We were assured that these doors were locked, and Chamber had even hired a security guard, unbeknownst to us, for the event. That should have been a sign . . .

The performance went smoothly enough, despite the fact that the audience was entirely unresponsive. Our adventure really began after the show, when we gents returned to our dressing room to realize that we'd been robbed. It turns out someone forgot to lock the bathroom door leading into our dressing room, and some enterprising Ecoliers decided to profit from it. Though I myself came off rather lightly, only losing my cell phone, Peter and Brent both lost ipods, cell phones, a digital camera, flashlight, jump drive and 77 dollars between them. Where was the security guard during all of this? Sitting in the house, watching the performance. Vigilance!

This part of the story actually ends better than we could have hoped. After giving descriptions of the lost items to the school's detective, and descriptions of two youths I had seen in our bathroom at the beginning of the performance, the powers that be were able to recover all of our cell phones, and everything else besides the ipods and the cash, in a little under two hours. All things considered that's some pretty solid police work. I had concocted the scheme of spreading the word to the teachers to maintain silence in their classrooms while we called my cell phone . . . and whichever student's pocket exploded with the sound of Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls" would obviously be the culprit. Although the detective liked the idea, he did not think it was feasible, and went about his work the old fashioned way.

'Monsoon Move-Out'

After all of the identifying and gumshoe-ing we had lost a lot of time for the load out. To complicate matters, it was our first time to load the truck without help from the production manager, and unfortunately (due to a busted printer) without pictures of how the truck was supposed to be packed. So the regular hour-long job of loading out became a three hour ordeal, that was punctuated by a torrential downpour that endured for the last two hours and finished abruptly five minutes after we were done. Soaked through and bone weary, we trundled back to the hotel to get some rest.

Erin warned us that evening that the next day's performance was going to be difficult. There was to be no loading dock, and we would have to nix about a third of our scenery because the stage was too small. They did not have proper lighting, so we would have to install our own (adding significant time to our already early call the next morning). We figured things couldn't get much worse, so we bore it bravely, and much to our surprise we actually loaded in faster than normal. The civic center we were playing had a four-man union crew who had installed the show before, and they had it up in no time. The crowd was rowdy and responsive, which made our job that much easier, and the load out was far less painful than the day before, thanks to competent help and freshly printed pack-pictures. Despite our worst expectations, the second performance went off right lively.

'Bed Bug Blues'

Thinking the worst behind us, we dashed back to the hotel to cleanse ourselves, enjoy a hearty repast (Chili's had never sounded so good!) and to share some liquid libations in an attempt to forget our misfortunes of the day before. We were quite successful in all of these pursuits, and E3 finally crashed out Wednesday night, world-weary and glad the worst was behind us.

The first mishap at the hotel that night involved Meg and a slug (doubtless a relative of the one that tried to steal Peter's thunder weeks ago). She had gone outside to make a phone call, comfie in her nightgown, enjoying the indian summer evening. No sooner had she sat down on the edge of a planter, she lost her balance, and went back first into the soil, landing upon an errant slug. As a final deed, the unfortunate creature certainly left his 'mark' on the world, as seen by the giant green splotch that he permanently imprinted on the rear of Meg's nightie. Thoroughly grossed out, Meg returned inside; but this would not be the end of pesky critters this night . . .

It was around 11 pm however, that Erin and Meg came yelping out into the hallway after a close encounter with some of the Hotel's most unsavory occupants. Erin had discovered bugs in her bed, and one of them dive-bombed Meg in the mouth, which was the last straw. The ladies demanded to switch rooms, which the front desk did promptly, but not before Erin had born the brunt of the attack. At breakfast the next morning, she was displaying the marks of this conflict, covered from head to foot in red bites. And we thought it couldn't get any worse . . .

To say that our first two days on the road went less well than expected, would be a generous understatement. Amazingly enough however, our company has come through it all proving we are made of tougher stuff than most. In spite of everything that had happened, we had a relaxed car ride to Pennsylvania today, accented buy a break at the most idyllic rest stop I have ever seen. It was off the highway in Delaware, and was a delight of old growth trees, formal gardens, and clean restrooms. They offered free coffee and tea to weary travelers, and best of all . . . a see-saw!



You see? Its not where one goes, but rather how one gets there. And we're sure to have many more adventures right around the corner. We're in Amish country tonight, and bringing our tales of horror (both onstage and off) to the gentle environs of a Mennonite high school in the morning. And there's plenty more where that came from! The road goes ever on and on . . .