It was bad. Real bad.
We arrived at our venue the night before our show, enjoying our free hour (AL is in the Central Time Zone), and unloaded the van to set up the set. You see, we were scheduled to perform a 9:15am and a 10:45am, but, when Emileena called to confirm our dates/times, we were informed that the venue changed its plans, and we now had an 8:45am and a 10:30am. That’s only thirty minutes on one end and fifteen on another, but, as we can only be called as early as 6am, those are big minutes, especially concerning load-in. So, we got permission to load in the night before, and we got help. Nobody was too thrilled about performing that early (as a wise friend once observed, “Singers aren’t meant to sing before 10am”), but we were all grateful for the extra sleep, and a call time of 7:50am.
Anyway, back at the theater, during our evening load in, the excitement began. The space was too small for our set (about 16 feet across; we are used to 30+), so (for the third time) we built without the house. Emileena’s sound set up, however, is the same regardless of the set size, so she was up in the booth, working very hard with the local crew sound guy. They were working on sound and we were doing touch-up paint when everyone heard a loud crash. Looking in direction of the house, we spied the remnants of our minidisk player lying on the ground. (Just for clarification, all sound and music comes from tracks on a minidisk.) Apparently, the sound guy had precariously balanced our player on the top of the balcony, and his risk hadn’t paid off. The player was broken, and we had a show the next morning. Our sound guy offered his equipment (from a theater in another town), and also promised to figure out the lights, bring in the legs and attempt to repair our player. We left to get some sleep and decompress in a Super 8 where two good-ol’-boys were grilling on a mini propane stove in the outdoor hallway.
The next morning, breakfast at the Super 8 failed to materialize. In fact, it consisted of a few slices of bread, four plastic-wrapped cinnamon buns and coffee. Nobody really ate (although there were promises of food at the theater, which did materialize, albeit a little late). We headed off to the theater, where we discovered that no lights had been set and the legs had not been brought down. However, our minidisk player appeared to have been fixed. We quickly set for the beginning of the show, ran through the opening number and began our own presets. Breakfast was eaten, kids were brought in, costumes were placed, props were checked, new blocking was discussed (to accommodate the space) and “places” was call. The show began well enough, the overture and the first entrances, but then the fun began. Our first sound cues failed to materialize. And, as we neared the first lines of the song, poor Michelle was left to improvise her way into the music. “I’m looking for Max… where can he be? I’m looking all over, everywhere. What’s over here? Mud. And here? ore mud.” Backstage, the wheels were turning and, as Mr. Barley is the next character to enter, we decided to send me on. As I was approaching the stage, however, Emileena came running down the aisle, announcing that there was a technical difficulty and that we would be restarting the show shortly. As we exited, there was a brief consideration of running the show off of an iPod, but that thought was dashed when Emileena called places and we started again. With a new minidisk player installed up at the booth.
All, however, was not solved. Because, for whatever reason, the new minidisk player failed to pause after each individual cue. When meant, on multiple occasions, cues came one after another, until Emileena was free enough to stop the thing. And, a few times, cues came that actors had to acknowledge (such as a ringing phone), thus shortening quick-change times and scene changes. That, coupled with the fear that music might not always be there and a tiny, tiny stage (necessitating some very fast thinking and onstage blocking changes), made for a scary show. And, according to Emileena, one of the most high-energy, engaged and committed shows we’ve ever given. The kids absolutely loved it! However, everybody backstage was about to have a heart attack.
And, just to add to the fun, the Styrofoam neck on the Blue Tarantula puppet snapped mid-show. Urg!
Our second show came right afterwards. Everyone took some time (Leigh knitted, Michelle and I did yoga, everyone else achieved some sort of meditative state), and then we started all over again. Practice made things better, but it was still a scary proposition, being on that small stage, doing our blocking and praying that there would be music. And, amid all the frustration, there was something fun about the experience. It was a new show, for all its problems, and it certainly kept us fresh. I just wish it hadn’t come with the whole fear-of-crashing-off-the-edge-of-the-stage-in-unexpected-silence-because-the-minidisk-player-was-broken thing.
We lunched at Sonic, drowning our sorrows in Cherry Limeade (and wishing we had something to spike it with), and loaded out. And on the way to our Smyrna, GA hotel, Leigh and Lydia made two very wise statements: “We will need to bitch about this tonight,” observed Lydia. “Yes,” Leigh added, “and then we will never speak of it again.”
Kid quote of the day: Umm, to be honest, I wasn’t really playing attention. Sorry.
Call tomorrow: 6am. Although it’s an unofficial one. We have 4 days off, and we’re going to Myrtle Beach, for some more time off in Lydia’s family’s beach house. And, in light of recent events, I think we really need it.
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