Hunting for Gaters

Yep, we were in Florida, so we hunted them. And by hunted, I mean went out on an airboat and found ourselves a few new friends. And by friends, I mean 15 foot-long, big mouthed, sharp-toothed crocodilians. Grrr.



Kid quote of the day: As Max cowered in fear in Ruby's bedroom from the scary tarantula in his room, a little girl felt the need to inform the world: "He's not in his bed."

Call tomorrow: 8am, Days Inn in Tampa, right across from Busch Gardens. Double header at the Tampa Theater

Disney World!!

Our merry band assembled at 7:50am. Well, sort of. At 7:50am, Ben and I were sitting in the hotel lobby, waiting for everyone. I dialed Leigh's phone, only to learn that she would not be joining us. Neither would Lydia, Leah or Emileena. In fact, our merry band had, overnight, whittled itself down to three: Ben, Michelle and me. To make matters more interesting, the much-touted Disney shuttle evaporated. After some quick text messages and phone calls, we got clearance to use the Theatreworks cargo van. We were GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!!



Soon, our crew had arrived at the Magic Kingdom parking lot (section "Pluto 18," which my phone's text message dictionary insisted was actually "Plutocracy 18") and was ready to board the monorail to the "Happiest Place on Earth." As we entered the turnstiles, linking our tickets to ourselves through a fingerprint scan, the smell of cotton candy and popcorn filled the air. Main Street, USA opened before us as Pluto, Chip, Dale and Pinocchio signed autographs and a group of eight dancers performed a medley of trolly-themed showtunes. "Wow," I commented. "And we thought it was hard doing our show at 10:30am."

And, of course, as we turned the corner, Cinderella's castle opened before me. Michelle, our cast's resident Tinkerbell, insisted on a photo:



And then it was ride time. The Steam Boat cruise, the Haunted Mansion, Small World, Peter Pan (where Michelle made a friend: Smilo), Dumbo, the Tea Cups and Snow White (which stopped halfway through). Wanting for something a little more intense, we headed for Splash Mountain and Thunder Mountain, when Michelle's friend Danielle arrived. She's "close personal friends" with a number of Disney characters and, after joining us on a wild train ride, she offered us an interesting proposition: free tickets to Epcot. The expense of a Disney trip made the "park hopper" option outside our actor-budgets, so we had planned to limit ourselves to the Magic Kingdom. However, this new development provided ample opportunity for more debauchery. And we took it (after lunch and some cool-down time at an in-park choral concert, where the big hit song was by Styx.)

Epcot proved to be more our style. Danielle walked us over to the MISSION: Space ride, which simulates a flight to Mars. Cool, cool, cool! So cool. So, so, so cool. So cool, in fact, that the three of us haven't stopped talking about it. With that and Spaceship Earth out of the way (the one in the golf ball; it's my favorite ride in all the parks!), it was time to experience Epcot as it is meant for the 21+ crowd: Drinking Around the World. For those not in "the know" (and I certainly wasn't!), this means going to all of the 11 country pavilions at Epcot and indulging in something alcoholic. However, in that I'm a lightweight and we did have to drive ourselves back at some point, our trip was "selective." Meaning we skipped a few places. One place we did tackle, however, was China, where I tried Chinese Cabernet and Ben showed off his awesome rubber-coated-stick-things skills:



Dinner and fireworks were in Morocco, and then we high-tailed it back to Magic Kingdom to catch a ride on Space Mountain. As fireworks burst overhead and the castle glowed blue in the background, we decided that it was time to turn in. Fifteen and a half hours at Disney will do anybody in, and we were happy, but exhausted. I drove home, as Ben and Michelle snoozed, and, with visions Mickey and Minnie in our heads, we crashed like we've never crashed before. And it was easily the best day on this tour yet.



Kid quote of the day (from Disney): A little kid in the Peter Pan line: "I'm flying!" Maybe not the best on this tour, but it certainly made me smile.

Call tomorrow: 11:30am, La Quinta parking lot. We're driving to Tampa. Woohoo! (I think?)

CSI: East Bunnyhop

Max has been a bad bunny!

Our call today was 6:30am, for a 10am show at a location 15 minutes from our hotel. Why are we up so early? Well, in order to be allowed on school property in Florida, we are required to be fingerprinted. Which meant we had to get ourselves to the Department of Education at 7am. Not that any of us were unhappy to submit to the background checks, mind you. Protecting our children is of the upmost importance, especially for people like us, who care about them deeply. However, actors (and bunnies) don't do well with 5:30am wake-ups.

We made it to our venue and had, in my case at least, a show from hell. I managed to run over on all of my costume changes, knock down the castle onstage and rip off one of the gorilla's knee pads (again; this just seems to be the nature of that costume change for me). To top it all off, one of the tarantula puppet's eyes (repaired when we were in DC) has decided to come unglued again. The kids, however, were none the wiser, and loved the show to bits. This show is a machine, and, regardless of what happens backstage, its that which matters. However, I still have some sewing and gluing to do. I really shouldn't be allowed near costumes.

After a nap and some pool time, it was time for dinner. On Theatreworks. You see, each cast gets one celebration dinner, and we decided to have ours at Wolfgang Puck at Downtown Disney. And it was awesome. Thanks Theatreworks. And starts our two days of Disney. Because, tomorrow...

WE'RE GOING TO DISNEYWORLD!!!

Kid quote of the day: During Blue Tarantula, one small child told a scared small child, "Don't worry, it's not real."

Call time tomorrow: 7:50am, La Quinta lobby. Did I mention: WE'RE GOING TO DISNEYWORLD!!

Celebration!

Today was our first day off on the road. Which was exciting. Especially since we are in Orlando. At a La Quinta hotel (our favorite). With a pool. Guess what we did all day?

We went to Celebration, FL!

What is Celebration, I hear you ask? Well, Celebration is an unincorporated, master-planned town initially designed and sold by Disney. The idea was to create that perfect town Walt had always dreamed of, where the small-town dynamic was achieved, community was built, kids grew up supported and families were happy. The town came complete with a main street, a progressive school, three religious institutions, a post office, some serious building requirements and a man-made lake. It was, like all things Disney, perfect. And sold out as soon as the plots were on the market. However, shortly after the town had started to pop up, the citizens rebelled against the planned nature. Without any representative government, they had no way to get Disney to respond to their needs, for things like a video store, changes in school policy or a dry cleaner within the town's limits. Disney began to pull out, and the town has regrouped to create the community that exists today.

(Nota bene: a prof of mine wrote a book on this, and I've been fascinated ever since I read it, hence my knowledge on the subject.)

Anyway, I convinced my other company members to join me, and off we went for dinner. Driving through, I found the place a little too perfect. Every house exactly the same. All grass blades were identically cut. The town was landscaped within an inch of its life. And, the strangest thing? Almost nobody was out on the street, and all windows were covered with dark drapes. For a town that was advertised initially as a place where kids catch fireflies as their parents chat with neighbors on the porch, I found it a ghost town. Perhaps the influx of intrigued tourists has caused this retreat. We found our way to our sushi restaurant and ate one of the best and most satisfying group meals we've had together. Afterwards, we strolled the lanes together, peeked into some open windows (yes, I am a stalker), found the famous dry cleaner that solved some of the town's conflict, tried to get into what my prof called the "make-out tower" and, finding it locked, headed back to our oversized van.

I've got to say that I have a new admiration for the people of Celebration after visiting. They are the closest thing I think I know of to pioneers today, and I'm impressed that they had the guts to call for the change they desired. However, there is no way I could live in their town. The uniformity and image of perfection that still pervades the town creeps me out. And I couldn't live that close to the Disney theme parks, as much as I love 'em. So, go Celebrationites! I'll definitely come back to visit. Just don't expect me to move in.



Kid quote of the day: After the Blue Tarantula number, a girl's voice called out, "I was very brave." Yes, sweetie. Yes you were.

Call tomorrow: 6:30am, at the vans in our La Quinta hotel parking lot. We've got to go be fingerprinted. Joy.

Max & Ruby Red Spring Break 2008!!!

We arrived in Miami on Sunday, the heart of spring break fever. Thus, we dubbed this leg (as in, the two days here) "Max & Ruby Red Spring Break 2008." And we had every intention of making the experience memorable. And memorable it was.

Our show day, and our only full day in Miami, started with a bang. Or, perhaps, a scratch. Or, maybe more accurately, a SCREECH, CLUNK, CLUNK. As we pulled out of the hotel at 7:15, I tangoed with a short concrete signpost. And this was the result:



Theatreworks has, I understand, been notified, but I have heard nothing from them. As you can imagine, I was not exactly in the best of moods as we pulled into our venue that day. It was also not the way I wanted Leah's first show to start. However, we had a show to do, so we pulled together, set up the set and got ready for our incoming kids, the Pre-K through Second graders of Beth Am Day School.

And they were great. Really, one of the most active, responsive, engaged audiences we've had so far. Lots of kid quotes (many of which follow). We gave them a great show and Leah rocked her first day. For our first day after 4 days of driving, it was a good reminder of why we do this. We packed up, headed back to the hotel, ate lunch, got haircuts and began prepping for our evening of spring break debauchery.

Dolled up, we reconvened at 7pm, prepared to head down to Miami's strip. Driving and driving, we found A1A, crossed some serious bridges, spied on rich people's yachts (the ladies discussed ways to marry rich) and found our way to Taverna Opa, a Greek taberna. With loud, Arabic pop. And sangria by the pitcher. And dancing on the tables. Spring break was officially on. OPA!!

We ended the evening in typical Miami fashion, with a walk down to the beach. As we stared at the horizon, however, something very strange caught my eye. Leigh was throwing off her clothes and racing towards the water. Not a group to second guess (and full of sangria ourselves), we joined in, leaving only a pile of pants, shirts and skirts on the beach. Clad only in our underwear, we dove into the ocean, crashing against the waves and cheering "Max & Ruby Red!"

Spring Break is definitely on!

Kid quote(s) of the day: About halfway through the show, a little girl informed us: "I like this show." Then, prior to the reading of the Blue Tarantula, a little boy let us know, the he "like[d] this part." When Ruby pondered what kind of a show she would write for Grandma, shouts of "Cinderella" and "Snow White" rang out. It was all we could do to keep it together.

Call tomorrow: None. Our first day off on the road!!

Road Trippin', Theatreworks/USA-style

Replacements

We lost one.

Ester decided it's time to depart the tour. She has been our incredible Bunny Scout Louise since day one, and is easily the strongest person in our cast (as her Chinese zodiac sign is the rabbit, I termed her "strong like bunny"). So, our shows today in Camden were her last with us. And they were truly fitting of the kind of work she has done. Two super high-energy shows, filled with fun, laughter, beautiful harmonies and an awesome load out. We lunched near the NJ/PA border, staring at the Philly skyline, and said a tearful goodbye. Safe travels, Ester. We love you and will miss you.

However, joining us this past Monday was our new Louise, Leah. And we're really excited to have her! She was cast the Friday before we left for this leg, rehearsed Saturday for a total of 4 hours, and readied herself for our "eternal departure" on Sunday. She's watched four shows, rehearsed with Ester in the hotel room, and is studying her script like a madwoman. Her first show is Monday and, as of now, we are unsure of when, if ever, we will get to do a put-in with her, as we are busily traveling every day until we get to Miami. However, I've never seen anyone approach such a daunting task with such dedication and diligence, and I have every confidence that she will kill on her first day out. And, perhaps the best part, Leah has fallen into the social groove perfectly. She's gonna be great!

Two photo moments:

Leah (l) and Ester, future and past Louises

The bunny scouts (me, Ester and Lydia) pull one final Blue Tarantula/Charlie's Angels pose

Kid quote of the day: When Ruby announces that she will read Max the Blue Tarantula story, there is a thunder sound cue. In the clear, before the story began, a small voice whispered, "Uh oh."

Call tomorrow: 9:00am.  Travelodge in Aberdeen, MD.  Off we go to Florida!!

Three Things

Word to those who may not know: Ethan is NOT (by any stretch of the imagination) a morning person. Not at all. Never. Nope.

Except, apparently, on this tour.

Because, miraculously, I manage to drag myself out of bed at 6:30am for a 7:40am van call. Every day. While my roommates are still asleep. But why, you ask, and how do you manage such a feat of endurance and mind over matter? How, pray tell, do you manage to be one of "the most energetic people every morning," as stage manager Emileena has told me, while overcoming such a major personal shortcoming?

Three things: shower, coffee and food.

It's kind of a three-part wake up. I scald myself awake, taking the hottest shower I can stand. I then dress (usually in a half-dark room; I have a deep appreciation for other people's sleep) and stumble my way down to hotel reception. There, I definitely grab a cup (or two) of coffee. Which are downed like espresso shots. After which comes breakfast.

Now, not quite every hotel we've enjoyed has offered the continental breakfast. And those breakfasts we have enjoyed are not all created equal. Even within the same chain. Our Days Inn in Fredonia, NY offered make your own waffles (and to view some of that action check out this video over at the Sally Swims A Lot blog), while last night's in Alexandria, VA managed to skip the entire deal together. On days when breakfast is not provided us, we usually manage a trip to McDonalds, where I have learned the joys of the McSkillet breakfast burrito, in both its regular and steak varieties. Classy, right? But, it's a fast 610 calories, and I need all of 'em.

So, burned, highly caffeinated, and hyped up on carbs, I am usually able to manage my way through about two shows. And very well at that (if I do say so myself). And, sometimes, with a few jokes backstage. That sorta make people laugh.

However, there is a reason we have an air mattress in the back of the passenger van. And my drool is ALL OVER the pillows.

Kid quote of the day: When Ruby discovered the tiara in Grandma's attic, a little girl shouted, "Ewww!" We have no idea why.

Call tomorrow: 7:40am, HoJo in Bellmawr, NJ. I'll be awake at 6:30. And, yes, HoJo does serve a continental breakfast. I checked.

Introductions: Gracie

As I type this, we are cruising along on 495 South, heading out to Alexandria, VA and beginning the real “tour” part of this tour (meaning I won’t be back in New York for a while). This is extreme blogging, people! Anyway, with this little break in the adventure, I thought it was time for the introduction to my second character in the show. Meet Bunny Scout Gracie:



Gracie’s not all together there. Oh, sure, she can function perfectly fine in normal society (sorta), but when she wants to do something, you’d better get out of her way. She has a somewhat unhealthy obsession with the Bunny Scout Anthem (as she says with extreme intensity in the show, “That’s my favorite song!”) and is dead set on getting her first aid badge (hence the first aid kit). She is also obsessed with scavenger hunts and castles, particularly the one built at the end of the show for Ruby’s show.

Gracie’s minor insanity started early on in rehearsals. At my audition, I was told that Gracie is a little too serious about her bunny scouting. And thus began my descent. First, everything was so important and exciting. Then, it was life or death. If Ruby doesn’t get her show, then the bunny scouts will have failed, and if the bunny scouts fail, then Gracie has failed. And, with my super-crazy-hyper intensity came some unexpected humor. I stood up quickly to announce my excitement about the scavenger hunt and caused the medicine box to make a large crash, sending our director Jeff into hysterics. Gracie’s increasing concern over her castle caused me one day to start crying when Max knocked it down, after which I was told: “Ethan, it’s not that type of play.”

And then there’s the gong.

Gracie brings a gong for Ruby’s play at the end of the show. Valerie announces that she borrowed it from a neighbor. However, we have collectively decided that the gong is hot property, and Gracie has earned her klepto badge in procuring it. In fact, Leigh has suggested that, during a scene change, Gracie come out in a black hood and gloves and creep across the stage, clutching the gong and looking furtive. It makes me laugh every day.

Gracie is, I think, the best. Maybe because she gets the most stage time, and thus the largest arc. Maybe because her hyper-sensitivity is the kind of high-energy stuff I love to do. Maybe because she actually cracks me up. Whatever it is, I never thought I’d embrace this dress-wearing, falsetto-singing, braid-wearing, super-odd bunny like I have.

Kid quote of the day: When Max picked up his Blue Tarantula book and prepared to open it, a little boy shouted, "Don't do it!"

Call tomorrow: 6:40am, our Days Inn in Alexandria, VA.

The Demise of the Blue Tarantula

So, it started out like any other, normal Max & Ruby performance: I set the tarantula puppet for the show and, as of late, attempted to make the google-eyes stay in place. You see, the Blue Tarantula has three eyes that spring off his head and bounce when I shake the puppet. And two of them have managed to become disconnected from the puppet, which is essentially a giant, decorated hat base on a styrofoam head with a long dowel stuck inside for better height. Thus causing them NOT to bounce, but more to fall. It's very confusing, and a little past what I can fix with thread, hot glue, rubber bands, twist ties and safety pins (all of which, by the way, I have used to repair my own props and costumes during this run). While this eye issue is problematic, to an extent, it still makes the puppet usable.

The Blue Tarantula number is performed in two segments, with a substantial dialogue section between the two song bits. After finishing the first chunk, I took down the puppet (which is on a long pole), placed it on the ground and tapped the top of the head, to try to secure it to the pole. At which point I heard a large cracking sound. The neck, it appeared, had snapped, and now, all I was left with was a styrofoam skull with a giant hat base on it. And a puppet too short to fit over the door frame. And half a song to go.

We managed through the song OK (the Blue Tarantula went from scary to a wimpy, but the kids still played along), and finished out the show with a bang. However, then came the more terrifying issue: how do we do the second show? With no real way to repair the neck (gaff tape is a little too weak for this thing), Emileena and I decided that the best option would be for me to wear the tarantula puppet on my head and pray that all 5'11" of me would be seen over the door frame (standing on a stool, of course). I tried on the puppet, which is really too small for my head, we checked my mic, we attempted bits of the song and settled on our solution. More or less.

And it worked OK. Not ideal (I elbowed my fellow puppeteers like crazy in my attempt to retain my balance while shaking my head like crazy), but we managed. And Theatreworks/USA's props department got a frantic phone call, so hopefully we'll have a new puppet soon. However, as one cast member quipped to me, "That's using your head."

Kid quote of the day: During the Blue Tarantula, one munchkin became so excited/scared that he peed his pants. Enough said.

Call time tomorrow: Still unknown. No text message received yet.

Fredonia Fun!

So, I'm back in New York City again, having braved the wilds of Fredonia, NY and Erie, PA. Which, truth be told, aren't so wild at all. However, picture a bunch of 20-somethings with two cars and a $55 per diem, and tell me you don't think we got ourselves into some adventures.

Fredonia was a three-day sit down for us (meaning we did six shows, but got to leave the set up in between) so we actually had a chance to get to know our town a little better. As co-social director, I took it upon myself to interview the nice lady at the front desk about local eating locations. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "Can you recommend a place that's nearby and moderate- to inexpensively-priced?"
Front desk lady ponders heavily. "Well," she says thoughtfully, "I think your best bet is Denny's."
Me: "Well, we've eaten a lot of Denny's in the last few weeks. Do you have any other suggestions."
Front desk lady: "Oh, well, there's the Bob Evans. And the Applebees, but they're a little more expensive. But different."
Me: (Befuddled look on my face)
Front desk lady: "Or, you could try the Upper Crust in downtown Fredonia."
Me: "Oh?"
Front desk lady, said with a look of glee, shaking her head and pinching her hands together: "Oh, yes, the Upper Crust. Mmmm... it is... so good!"

Needless to say, "It is... so good" became the catch phrase of the week. And, in fact, the Upper Crust was a great little cafe/bakery. We enjoyed a tasty little lunch there after our first day of shows. Highly recommended.

The local joint that became our favorite, however, was directly across the street from our hotel: Wing City Grille. Local sports bar extraordinaire, with serious bar food, hardcore wings and $4 pitchers of beer after 8pm. We dropped by for dinner every night. And, with our new-forming regular status, we got on a first-name basis with Chad, our waiter from the first night. Our return visits were filled with loud singing, trivia playing (team CHA-CHING managed a fourth place finish on Thursday Trivia Night, while Max and the Alien Green Gorilla duked it out for supremacy on the TV screen game) and, of course, lots of cheap Yuengling. We discovered that there is also a location in Florida, where we are headed in about two weeks. Repeat?

As for the shows, they were all really wonderful. We had a pick-up rehearsal on our second day, and it completely revived the jokes and cues (although we were so exhausted afterwards that you might say it nearly killed us). We did lose a show to a power outage, however, as the entire SUNY-Fredonia campus (our venue) went dark for an unknown reason, and there were many crying children leaving the theater as we trotted off to lunch. For a few days there, it felt like a normal show, where we show up with an hour to spare, warm up, change into costume, do it, undress, reset for the next day and then leave. Which is actually very refreshing. And something we can't really get used to.

Kid quote of the day: At the end of the show, when Ruby starts recounting the misadventures of her and Max's day, a little boy sternly scoulded: "I told you not to do that, Max!" We nearly all lost it on stage.

Call tomorrow: Unknown. SM will text message sometime today.

Oh NJ/DE, Why You Do Us Like You Do?

Last straw, people! The LAST STRAW!!

We set off for Maryland ready for a great two days. A few hours drive, then a nice, restful night in our Motel 6, dinner at one of Leigh's favorite Maryland haunts, the Dogfish Head Alehouse, a good show in Rockville, a smooth return and the end of hell week. Easy, right?

Yeah right!

When we arrived at our Gaithersburg Motel 6, we should have known we were in for something. All three of our reserved rooms were, um, problematic. One was covered in trash, the other smelled of many different kinds of smoke (use your imaginations, people!) and the third seemed OK, until a large unflushed mass was discovered in the toilet. After a phone call to Theatreworks and some very forceful words with management, we netted a refund and a cheaper reservation at a clean Red Roof Inn that was 20 minutes closer to our venue. We certainly earned our trip to Dogfish Head Alehouse.

Our evening was delightful. A few beers, some serious laughs (the kind of bonding this cast really needed), and clean, comfortable rooms. Leigh and I were roommates and turned in just before 8:30pm. Ten hours later, we awoke, rested and ready for a great show. Which we had, at a decked-out theater in Rockville with a star drop, projections, a super-cool crew and a packed house that laughed at everything. We played, packed, picked at our food at a diner, and then set off for the wilds of New York City. When we hit the apocalypse.

Just as we approached the Delaware border, we hit traffic. In an hour and a half, we moved a quarter of a mile. And we were showered with sideways rain and hail. To our horror, we discovered that the cause of the delay was a 28+ car pileup in front of us, including at least three semi trucks. Everyone drove a lot slower for the rest of the trip.

Shaken, but OK (and a little hungry), we stopped at a rest stop in NJ. All was fine (our Uno game was kickin') until the power went out. We decided that this was a sign that we were to leave, so off we went in our sprinters. Only to find ourselves in four miles of traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike. The reason? A downed power line from the storm we had just waited through shut down the roadway in both directions, and traffic was being diverted. After a police escort around the live wires, we were on the way back to New York, where we arrived at 10:30pm. Three hours later than expected.

Oh NJ/DE, why you do us like you do?

Kid quote of the day: When Max dove for, and missed, the mallet during "Happily Ever," crashing to the floor, a little boy called out, "Max, are you OK?"

Call tomorrow: 9am, Manhattan garage near Columbia. Erie, PA or Bust!!

4am Ain't So Bad

In case you don't know, I am not an early morning person. However, this is what I have seen for the last few days, as I trudged down 108th Street towards our parking garage:



That (and serious coffee from Dunkin' Donuts) gets me in the right mood at the beginning of the day.

Full Circle

This post starts with a story about me:

According to my parents, the first show I ever saw was A Strega Nona Christmas at the Children’s Theater Company in Minneapolis. Over my mother’s objections, my grandmother dragged my family and I to the show. (Mom was worried that I would squirm or wet the seat – I was three years old, after all.) Legend has it that I sat spellbound through the entire show, silent and staring, with no reaction at all. When it was done, so they say, I refused to leave the theater. Eventually, I turned to my parents and asked them, “When is it my turn to go up there?”

I have no memory of the event, but I saw it happen today.

There was a little boy in the front row of the Bergen Performing Arts Center in Englewood, NJ, today, who was my focus from the moment I set foot in the stage. He was seated between his mom and grandma, and clutching two small stuffed bunnies: one Max, the other Ruby. For all 49 minutes of our show, his expression was the same. No laughs. No shrieks. No tears. No applause. Just a dead, yet attentive, stare. We did our show, headed backstage and, as I was packing up my microphone, I heard two voices coming from the audience:

"OK, its time to go," said a female voice
"No," croaked the indignant, three year-old boy.

That is all I need.

Kid quote of the day: see above. You can't get much better than that.

Call tomorrow: 10:30am, Manhattan garage near Columbia. Travel day to Maryland!!

New Vaudevillians

One thing that has struck me in this experience is that TYA (Theater for Young Audiences) tours are in a sense the new vaudeville. Perhaps my brush a year ago with a George M Cohan show is still "clouding my vision," but I've so far seen a number of interesting parallels so far, many of which are specifically applicable to the circumstances under which we find ourselves.

Vaudeville, for those who aren't quite as savvy, was the popular variety art form from the late 1800s to around the depression. There were different circuits played by different ranks of performers, each of whom were perfecting, or had perfected, a short act of some ilk. Jugglers performed next to dramatic scenes, which were followed by dog tricks and tap dancers. A vaudeville show was fast, and was meant to offer something for everyone. As it grew, theaters were built across the country specifically to house this new art form, which played a few times in a day, and then packed up and moved on. Producers scouted acts carefully, and a good act was gold, both for the producer and the performer. And, more importantly, it is the place where many of the great musical theater artists got their start. Cohan, of course, but also people like Donald O'Connor, Bert Williams, The Three Stooges, Charlie Chaplin and Bob Hope. And, naturally, everyone was looking to "play the Palace," a theater that still stands on Broadway (currently housing Legally Blonde - The Musical, but who's counting?)

That sounds kinda like what we're doing. We're a bunch of 20-somethings, most of us just starting our careers, trying to earn our stripes as actors/singers/dancers. We've got a 49 minute show, with a few jokes thrown in for everyone, that we cart around (on our own), performing a few times in one day and then heading off to the next town. It's a form of entertainment to grow on, both for us as artists and for our audience of Pre K - 3rd graders. And, clearly, most of us are looking to use this experience to catapult closer to the "Palace" (actually, I know at least two people who have already picked out their parts in Legally Blonde). And, perhaps most convincingly, we keep playing old vaudeville houses, which is perhaps the most tangible and coolest link to the past.

I like this connection. It makes the hard days feel easier, and the easy days feel great. And, when I question just how valid getting dressed up in a gorilla suit is, it brings me back. It grounds me in a way. And there is one thing I've found most compelling. Cohan wrote in his auto-brag-ography, "When you're living out a trunk, when home is a succession of hotels and boarding houses in one strange city after another, your family becomes your only constant, your only security in a hard world." George was a little dramatic at times, but there is an element of truth to his words. When we're out (and even when every day begins at 4am), the constants are the people. And, disfunctions aside, you gotta find a way to love everyone you're with. Which is something we're doing. And I, at least, am proud of that.



Kid quote of the day: At one point, Ruby demonstrates for Max how princes ride horses. She trots across the stage and clicks her tongue to simulate a horse trotting. During this show, we were losing the kids, so Ruby asked the audience, point-blank, "Can you all help me show Max how princes ride horses?" And, en masse, the entire audience clicked their tongues.

Call tomorrow: 6:30am, Manhattan Garage near Columbia. Hell week is almost over...

Ethan and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning

So, this week is our "local week," meaning that we live at home and do shows, starting this past Sunday, that are within easy driving distance (typically an hour). Which means that our call times up at the vans have been around 6ish. And, for me, that means I get on the subway around 4:45am, which means my first (of five) alarm goes off around 4am. We return, exhausted, by about 3pm, return home, crash, rinse and repeat. And Tuesday, it seemed should have be the same. Before settling in for the night, I plugged in my cell phone (bearer of 3 alarms), checked my computer (1) and my alarm clock (1), sang "Goodnight Shnoozie" to myself (it's a Max & Ruby reference) and crashed. Immediately.

This morning, I woke up, rolled over, and asked myself, "Why is it so bright outside?" My alarm clock offered the answer: 7:15am.

Frantic, I grabbed my phone to discover missed calls from my free wake-up call service. My computer was also blinking. It appeared, despite all the best efforts, that I managed to sleep through five alarms! The show was scheduled for 10am in Newark, so I speed dialed my stage manager. "Where are you?" she asked. When I explained my circumstance and apologized profusely (something I would up doing a lot), she told me to hop the PATH train and take a taxi to the venue. They were on the road (as of when I woke up) and would meet me there. And we were already 45 minutes late. I confirmed, threw on a sweater, tossed on my shoes (without socks) and ran to the subway.

I arrived at our venue five minutes after the van, and was greeted by my cast and stage manager (very enthusiastically, which helped a ton) and a full crew of IATSE members, who had already unloaded about half of the van and were well into setting up the set. I hopped into set-up, and, collectively, we pulled the sucker together in enough time for our scheduled half hour. Which is probably a record. The show went well (kids were great, as per normal), nothing went wrong on our end, we struck fast (again, extra hands rock!), found lunch, ate, returned and crashed. Actually, during lunch I went back to the venue to pick up something we'd forgotten, and the company was nice enough to call me to check in on what I wanted for lunch.

Now, this is a pretty bad offense. A very, very, very bad offense. Equity actually has a whole page in the rulebook to which our contract is referenced covering lateness. (Actors aren't always the most punctual people.) I won't bore you with the details, but lateness is a much larger issue in the entertainment world than in other businesses, and is not tolerated. So, as I have stated a few times already today, this WILL NOT become a regular occurrence. And, as a company, we discussed contingency plans should something like this happen again. Which, after my example, I doubt will. Which is good. Because, no matter which end of it you're on, it can make for a rough day.

Kid quote of the day: When I entered as Gracie (my female bunny scout character), a little boy informed me, "You're a boy." Suspension of disbelief, anyone?

Call time tomorrow: 6am, Manhattan parking lot near Columbia. And, yes, I WILL be there at 6am. Maybe 5:45am. I "slept in" today, after all.

Introductions: Mr. Barley

So, in the interest of not making this blog ENTIRELY about where we performed, what went wrong and what we ate, I'm hoping to add a few "features" about what I and we do, both onstage and off. So, here's the first. Meet my first of five-and-a-half characters: Mr Barley.



Mr. Barley is a strange little man. He's the grocery store owner, who is also a bit of a musical theatre fanatic. You see, when Ruby suggests that she's writing a musical for Grandma, Barley has a bit of a freak out. "You mean," he shouts, turning face forward, with arm extended, hand splayed and eyes on the prize, "with SINGING? And DANCING?" For a guy with only three lines, he's certainly got a lot of character.

This fanatical nature was introduced to me at the audition, where Robin (the casting director) informed me that Barley was crazy about musicals. I think I wound up delivering the line with an awkward little jump and a major vocal squeak. That on-the-spot invention has stayed, although it has morphed into more of a 42nd Street, "we're gonna be on Broadway" moment. Perhaps it got me the part. Probably not.

In rehearsals, Barley's status as the sole adult male character in the show (in addition to his minor psychosis) made him the butt of many jokes. I'll leave them to your imagination, but, for all intents and purposes, and if played the wrong way, Barley can be a creepy old man. (One day, in rehearsal, Mr. Barley accidentally wound up whistling the "Bunny Scout Anthem" as he walked off-stage, prompting someone to remark, "Well, we know where HE'S spending his free time"; not one of my finer moments.) And I'm fighting against that as much as possible. My Mr. Barley is the friendly grocer from the cartoons, who gives Max and Ruby the eggs, milk and flour they need to make Grandma a cake because Ruby wrote a shopping list and Max wheeled his cart over to the shop. He's sort of Mr. Rogers crossed with Mr. Hooper from Sesame Street, with a slight Ethel Merman moment for spice. And, of course, because I'm me, he's got a touch of Midwestern. And there ain't nothing wrong with that.

Kid Quote of the Day: During "Blue Tarantula," some small child realized that yelling to Ruby that the tarantula was above her head wasn't working. So, he raised his hand and, very loudly, shouted, "Excuse me. Excuse me. Ruby? I need to tell you something."

Call tomorrow: 6:15am, Manhattan Garage near Columbia.