Folding with Queens

That's it. I'm done, finished. I have no desire to go on. Today was quite possibly the worst single day in my Chamber life, with the possible exception of the day the truck got decapitated. The difference is that day started out well and turned horrid. Today started out shitty and just somehow managed to get worse. It began this morning at load-in, in beautiful Chester, PA. The school we went to was purported to be an easy load in, and I assume that back when they did a show there before, it was. However, that was in May, not March after a particularly rainy weekend. What difference does that make, Andrew? You ask. Well, I'll tell ya (which really, is what the whole blog concept is about.) We had to back up to some doors which required us to back up on their lawn. Normally this isn't a problem, but today the ground was particularly muddy, so not only did we tear the shit out of their grass with the truck, but when one of the school administrators or teachers or whoever the hell he was came out and was telling us we had actually backed toward the wrong door and the one we were supposed to have backed up to was closer and therefore would have required us to cross less of their lawn, we discovered that (can you guess? I'll give you three....give up?) we COULDN'T MOVE the truck. Yes, that's right! Our back wheels were mired in the mud. All we did was spin and spin. So we unloaded where we were, hoping that being lighter would help. (I know, it doesn't make any sense, but we were grasping at straws here) Surprisingly, it didn't work. (I know, you're all shocked) So I got to see the entertaining sight of Levit snapping at both the school administration for having the temerity to suggest that perhaps she shouldn't have had us back up where we did, and at Schneider for not being able to make the truck move. She claimed it was because her kept turning the front wheel. So he got out of the cab and told her to do it. Guess what? That's right! She couldn't move the truck either (and she also kept the wheel turned, so I'm not quite sure what the hell the whole wheel deal was...) I tried putting the dock plate under the tire, which succeeded.....in getting mud all over the dock plate.....and me. So then the school guy, we'll call him Ant'ny, cuz that's what he looked like, suggested putting old scraps of rug and stuff underneath it. Levitt said that was worth a try, then as soon as he was gone tried to move the truck again, failed again, then said she was going to call Ryder to set up a tow. I suggested we wait to see if the other idea worked first, at which point she grunted and walked into the school. So I waited. The blankets didn't work. But Ant'ny getting eight maintenance guys and a maintenance truck to pull us did. So that was crisis #1 dealt with...

Crisis #2 struck as we set up the set and realized that the venue was missing something very important for actors putting on a show--dressing rooms. Now, it was a high school, so I'm kind of used to the idea that we don't have real dressing rooms and instead have to use a music room or a bathroom set aside for us, or something like that. What I was NOT prepared for was the revelation that we had no rooms of any kind--that the school refused to set aside even one bathroom for us to use. So where did we change? A hallway offstage right. A hallway which had glass walls facing outside where people crossed from one side of the school to the other. A hallway which had another glass wall facing into a music room, and which connected down another hallway with the main part of the school and was not blocked off in an way. Yep, that's right. We were basically getting butt-ass naked in the middle of the school. I have freaking had it. I'm sorry, but I've been working way too long to still have to sit in a hallway at a school and do my makeup. I have no problem dealing with the shortcomings of performing in schools when I am performing a show designed to be performed in schools, but this is NOT that kind of show, and I am sick of being the actors being held to these über-professional standards when we are stuck in situations which are in direct opposition to those standards. And I am also sick of hearing the excuse, "That's just the way tour is." Bullshit. You are in control of what the tour is, and if the company is not willing to sell their actors and, I'm sorry, audiences, short by trying to cram a huge show into a tiny space, then that's not the way tour will be. And I'm not saying this just because I'm 37 (dear god that still hurts to say) and have been doing this for 14 years. Nobody should have to put up with this. ESPECIALLY if you work for a theatre run by someone so high-faluting as our producer, who really should know better. Again, if you're a show that's designed to go into a school, then of course the lack of amenities won't be that big a deal, because you won't require them in the first place. But I'm sick of people acting like it's okay to just throw us into any kind of shit situation and we'll just throw something together, which will be judged based on what it should have been in a big space. It's pathetic. And don't give me the "that's what you get for still being non-union" spiel, because I refuse to accept that we somehow deserve this treatment because we refuse to pay someone for the privilege of being treated like human beings. 

So that started things off well. And it only got better once we realized that the kids....hated us. Not since the Catholic school earlier this tour have I been in a theatre with such painfully anemic response. Nothing reached these kids. Not a thing. And then at lunch their teacher tried to convince us that they loved it. Please. It was a hateful show from beginning to end, and all I could look forward to was sleeping in the van on the way to Queens and not having to deal with anyone or anything until we hit the hotel. But that's where crisis #3 comes in. As we were eating our free lunch (which, by the way, was lovely) we noticed that Bob was looking a bit under the weather. Turns out he had the beginnings of a migraine. Spots in front of his eyes and all that. So, Levitt proclaimed that there was no way he could navigate the truck for her that afternoon, and she needed someone else to do it as she drove. Silence greeted her question. And the silence stretched on uncomfortably. And stretched. And then Flo came to her rescue and offered to ride with her. The problem? Flo lives in Queens and was planning on heading out to see her friends and roommate once they got into the city. Carol and Alice were also planning on heading out, so there were a number of people with vested interest in getting to the city swiftly. I, on the other hand, had no need to get to Queens with alacrity, so being the sweet guy I am (quiet all you people who have known me for more than a year or, dear lord, dated me) I offered to take her place. Not surprisingly, she accepted. So yep, instead of napping, I was going to spending 2.5 hours in a truck with Levitt. You listening to this, universe? I better get some beaucoup karma points for this shit. 

So we load out (which goes far better than load-in, and hit the road. About an hour into the drive, in Bristol, PA, at a gas stop, crisis #4 struck us with the force of Hurricane Andrew. We stopped to get gas. The place had diesel, but only allowed you to pump on one side of the truck at a time (we have tanks on both sides) so if you want to fill both sides, you have to turn the truck around. Levitt told me she was only filling one side. I go in to the station to get a drink, come back out and find out she IS going to turn the truck around. She's filled up the passenger side and it going to swing around to the same pump and continue pumping. So I stand aside and watch as she starts to pull out. Now, the pumps are in this huge vacant lot with plenty of room for our truck to turn, so all she has to do is pull straight forward then make like a three point turn. She starts pulling out heading to the right as she does. This brings the rear of the truck perilously close to one of those little guard railings they have near gas pumps to keep you from driving perilously close to them. I realize what is about to happen a second too late as she zips forward, and grazes the rear tire against that guard railing, leaving rubber on it, bending the rim and popping the tire. Yep, you heard right, gentle readers, she blew out the tire. She stops, runs back and then asks if I had bothered waving at her to stop because she was looking to me for direction. What i wanted to say was, "No, I didn't wave. I wasn't aware you needed me to talk you down. I foolishly assumed that pulling out from a gas pump was within your skill set. Apparently I have once again overestimated your competence." What I SAID was, "No, I didn't have a chance, it was too late once I realized what was going to happen." But yes, somehow, this was my fault, at least partially. So then followed the phone call to Ryder, the hour-long wait for the guy to come out, then the changing of the tire, all of which put us smack in the middle of rush hour to get into Queens.

But wait, there's more. We made decent time into the city, thankfully, until of course, we got too close. Once you reach a certain point anywhere in New York and you happen to be driving a commercial vehicle, you are banned from any direct or easy route into the city. One of the largest, busiest cities on the planet wants nothing to do with commerce or the vehicles which practice it. So off the parkway and onto the surface streets, which means it takes us 45 minutes to go 8 miles. And once we get near the hotel, we are informed of crisis #5 by Flo, who has arrived there. There is no parking for the truck. Of course there isn't. It's New York, and nothing good ever happens to us in New York. There is a possibility that we can park in the back of the parking lot if we can squeeze the truck in there. I don't like the term "squeeze". There's also a hospital that will charge us a very reasonable fee to park in their lot overnight. I don't like the term "reasonable" when said by anyone who works in NY. So we finally crwl into Queens at 7 p.m. and realize there's no way on god's green apples that the truck is fitting anywhere in the 10-space parking lot. Flo, Carol and Alice are on their way into the city, and Schneider and Ted are doing venue run, so that leaves Ted to run interference with the hotel for us. He lets us know that the hotel has an alley with a gate that we can park in, if we can get into it. I look at it, leaving the truck to sit on the street a few blocks away. The one-way street which leads to it is so parked in that the truck will never make the turn into the alley, and the alley is roughly as wide as my shoulders. I tell this to Levitt. She wants to look at it. I repeat the information and my opinion that we'll never fit. She insists on seeing it. She sees it. She says there's no way we're going to fit. I keep my mouth shut. I notice that there is space on the one-way street that we might fit in. We try to back in. Levitt sucks at parallel parking, and there's only so much help I can offer when the driver has no feel for the vehicle. As we are in the midst of that debacle, ted runs out and tells us the hotel has suggested we talk to the service station across the street to see if they'll let us park in their lot. I tell him to talk to them as I relay the info to Levitt. He comes back and says the owner of the station cannot envision a 26 foot truck, and needs to see the truck before he makes a decision. So we pull out of the space and drive around the block, where I see a huge empty space on the street. We resolve to come back if the station doesn't work out. The station doesn't work out. Apparently this guy thought 26 feet meant a Kia. We return to the spot, which is now parked in. Schneider calls us (he and Ted are back) that a space has opened up o that one way street right in front of the station and he is standing in it. We arrive and sure enough a lovely space! We pull in. We are joyful. We prepare to leave. We are accosted by a very unpleasant man fromt he hotel yelling that we are a foot into the path of the driveway for the station and we will get a ticket. I wan to tell him to stuff it because he hasn't been trying to park this truck in a city which seems determined to make sure no-one parks anything larger than a Vespa. But his admonishments scare Levitt enough that she moves the truck! ANd tries to back into another space on the same street which she succeeds in getting completely messed up in, even with Schneider and I helping her, until a man comes out of one of the houses and moves his mini van from in front of the truck. We applaud his consideration. I secretly think it's because he was terrified she was going to ram his car, but I'll take anything at this point. She manages to get settled, and the ordeal is over--at 8 p.m. Yep, gentle readers--an hour to park the truck. Shoot me. Just shoot me.

Crisis #6: the venue is so small that we may have a show tomorrow with no set at all. That sounds easy, doesn't it? Except we still have to unload the whole truck to get to the lights and costumes and props and then put back all the set pieces. But hey! We get fed! So that makes everything okay. I have GOT to work for less stupid people.  Pond in 2012--He Won't Negotiate with Stupid!