LaughAtlantis

This weekend I went to New York, very much as a last-minute thing, to do a workshop on directing for improv. The workshop itself was a revelation in many ways - I've been schooled primarily in one approach to directing improv, and there was SO MUCH that was new to me in there that I felt at times like I'd never improv'd before. Sad, in that I've been doing this for years.

Saturday began with a bang. Rod had set the alarm for 5:00, which was necessary in order for me to catch the 6:30 train. I figured I'd need to leave by five before six at the latest to catch it. I wound up waking up at 4:48, having to pee desperately. I returned to bed, thinking "Yay, ten more minutes of sleep." The alarm went off at 5:00 - Rod, thinking I was up, turned it off. I was completely asleep by that point and never even heard the thing.

When I woke up again, it was 5:51. You know things are bad when the first word out of your mouth in the morning is "Fuck!!!"

In a mere eighteen minutes, I managed to shower, pack and get downstairs. Rod called a cab. I hopped in. Astoundingly, I was at the bus station at 6:24. I got in line at the Peter Pan counter and when I finally got up to the head of the line I was informed that the next bus was lat 7. Okay. That would still get me in to NY by 11:30 and I'd get to the workshop by its starting time of noon. So I wandered out to the gates and, because they told me that the next bus was at 7, I simply ignored the bus at the next gate that read "NEW YORK EXPRESS" figuring that was the 7:00 at it wasn't loading yet. Wrong. It was the 6:30 and left about three minutes later. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead.

Got on the next bus, fell asleep, got to NY, took a cab to the workshop, spent four hours learning an obscene amount of new things that made me wonder why I ever thought I could direct and if I had ever actually done anything remotely approximating decent improv. It was revealing, to say the least. I used muscles that I had forgotten I had. Believe it or not, I strained myself in a scene in which I was pushing an imaginary backpack. Don't ask.

After the workshop I went out with some folks that I had only previously known from an online message board. It's always slightlly odd to make the leap from the internet to reality particularly in the case of people you know from a message board, in that they might remember posts you made that you have no recollection of and vice versa. But Sal and Hugh (I was frankly surprised to know that they even had real names) were really cool. We all went out to eat a a comfort food restaurant called the Chat N' Chew. With a name like that, you'd think that I was served by an old woman named Etta Mae who was wearing a housecoat. Nope. Outta-work-actor-boy. The food was good though - best cole slaw I've had in years. We talked shop and then went shopping. I bought a couple Christmas presents and a towel - since I'd forgotten to bring one with me. Then Sal and I raced off to see his girlfriend in a staged reading of Henry V. It was a cross-gendered production and was really well done. While watching it I learned that a Welsh accent sounds much like a bad Pakistani accent. Go figure.

After the show I headed for the youth hostel where I was to hang my hat for the evening. Calling it a "youth hostel" is a misnomer. I'm 29 and I think I was the youngest person in my room. I got in the latest though; I'm sorta proud of that.

Woke up the next morning and took a quick shower, then headed downtown. Right by the workshop site was the New York Chocolate Show. I had to physically stop myself from buying a ticket and skipping the workshop entirely. Instead, I went to the Hollywood Diner for a lovely Belgian waffle and then went to Barnes & Noble for general milling about. I do so love bookstores.

Then off to the workshop for hours of intensive directing madness. Again, I learned tons. Workshop ended and I headed to Port Authority to go home. I wanted to take the 5:00 bus back to Boston, to no avail. That bus filled two people ahead of me in the line, so I had to get on the 5:30 bus. Sadly, the 5:30 bus had no air conditioning and instead pumped out heat. So we had to stop the bus in Harlem and we waited an HOUR for the replacement bus. So instead of getting into Boston at 9:30, I got home at 11:00 at night. I was exhausted when I got to South Station. I called Rod and he ordered me some pasta. I went over to his place, had Chicken alla Pignoli, we talked improv, and then I fell happily asleep.

Yup, that was one eventful weekend.