It's a long way to go....

and sadly a long time to get there. Yesterday, gentle readers was our epic trip from Maumee, OH to Elizabeth City, NC, site of one of more messed up mornings a few weeks back. We were returning to perform our show for the class who cancelled the second show we were supposed to do that day. Turns out it had been because of a tornado, so they decided they wanted to do it now. So we hopped into our vehicles (well, I didn't hop so much as stumble blindly while clutching coffee) and started the 700 mile trip. Yes, you read that right, 700 miles. Flo and I were in the truck, and the trip started out easily enough. To be honest, the entire drive was a cinch, save for the fact it took THE WHOLE FREAKING DAY! We left the hotel in OH at 8 in the morning, and we reached NC at midnight. Now, that did include a stop early in the day for gas and extra coffee, as well as a second stop much later in the day for more gas and dinner, and the stop right smack dab in the middle while I was driving which is the focus of this first part of today's blog, but still, that was a long damn time to be in a truck. But thankfully, it turned out to be relatively easy, save for......

The truck's warning lights came back on as we were passing through Pennsylvania. You remember those, don't you, gentle readers? The ones that wreaked such havoc with our safety and our sanity on our way to Brooklyn? The ones which caused our truck to die on an entrance ramp? I knew you did. Well, they popped back on whilst I was chugging away down the Pennsylvania turnpike. Not one to tempt fate more than once on the same subject, I pulled off into a service plaza as soon as I could and parked the truck. Flo and I scoured the manual to try to find out where the coolant was stored, since it had turned out to be a missing coolant reservoir cap back in NY. Apparently, they feel it is necessary to diagram every single inch of the engine EXCEPT where the coolant is. I called Levitt, since she had been told by the Ryder guys where it was. Then I called Bob when Levitt (as usual) didn't answer her work phone. I will never understand why she even bothers carrying it, since she never answers it. It's really freaking annoying, since she is the one we're supposed to contact should anything happen. And I would be able to accept it more if she answered her personal phone with any regularity. But no. If she's not actually moving scenery or yelling at a crew, she assumes she is not working and doesn't feel the need to communicate with anyone. Hell, she had Schneider call Flo and I last night with the van call for this morning, and that's like her one real duty. So I call Bob, who (since he answers his phone) hands his phone to Levitt, who tells me the reservoir is--now wait, I want to get this right--"under the hood on one side, I'm not sure which one." Remind me never to count on her as a witness if I'm ever mugged. "He was hit...or something by a guy who looked like...I don't know, a human. Kinda. In a way." So armed with that information, I lifted the hood and found it on the side. So technically she was right. Oy. And lo and behold, we were really low on coolant. Apparently wrapping duct tape around the opening and jamming a plastic lid to a deodorant bottle and zip tying it to the opening doesn't form a perfect seal. So, while it's a little annoying, it's definitely fixable. All I have to do is add coolant and we can make it to NC and let LEvitt deal with getting it fixed. So I go into the gas station shop there at the plaza and look for coolant. They have one kind that says anything about being good for diesel. Unfortunately, it also says it's green and should be added to green. Or blue as well, i think, and the stuff in my reservoir looked far redder than either of those colors. I was unaware that there were colors to coolant that acted like blood types. Apparently some coolants will reject other colors. I don't see why they can't all just get along, but that's a rainbow coalition meeting for another day. I'm tempted to just buy the stuff, but I'm also tempted not to break the truck, so I decided to call Ryder and just ask if the stuff would be okay.

Outsourcing is a severe problem in this country, and let me tell you why. Because they just give the jobs to people from other countries without tutoring them in what the countries they'll be dealing with are like. When I call a truck maintenance hotline, I don't want to have to spend 15 minutes trying to explain to "Erin" (neé Rashika) what a service plaza off a turnpike is. Especially not when I have already indicated to her that I am not broken down, I do not need anyone to come out to my location, I just need to talk to a technician and ask him one simple question. So it doesn't matter where I am. I don't need to talk to anyone nearby. I could talk to a guy in Nevada, I don't care. I have one simple yes or no question. So I don't need--okay, let me go wandering around trying to find the name of the plaza which might indicate to you what city I'm in. Somerset, PA. There you go. No, I'm not at an exit. It's a plaza, you don't exit the turnpike, you just pull off and you can get right back on. There is no exit number. No really. Yes, let me give you my number so you can have him call back. Please stop saying my name at the beginning and end of every sentence--it doesn't make me feel like you care more about my problem, it makes you sound like a badly written novel, and it's making me want to beat you like soufflé-bound egg whites. Yes, that is the number. Yes, all I need to do is ask a question. Do you really think I believe you're somewhere ANYWHERE near this country? I can smell the curry over the phone, and I do believe I hear the distinct celebratory strains of Bollywood dance music in the background. Please let's finish this. I don't want to keep you from your big solo. Okay, I'll hold. During this time, Flo is doing yoga in the parking lot. I envy her calm and flexibility and curse her for encouraging the enemy. "Erin" (nee´Shiva) returns with a technician on the line, named Ed. I say hello to Ed and am immediately reassured that if nothing else, Ed is from this country The surliness proves it. I ask him the question--will the Peak green coolant be okay to use to top off the stuff I have in the reservoir? "Yes," he growls. "It shouldn't hurt it." He then hangs up. I hang up in the middle of "Erin" (neé Ganesha) repeating my name over and over to thank me. Then I buy the coolant.

The guys who jury-rigged the cap did a hell of a job wrapping the duct tape, so I decide that istead of trying to pull it off, I'm just going to cut through it, using Flo's ever present knife. She hands it to me, I start to cut and realize there seems to be some pain emanating from my right thumb, which I have placed against the base of the knife for leverage. I look down to see that I have actually placed my right thumb against the bottom part of the BLADE for leverage, and have just sliced a not inconsiderable way into my thumb. I greet this realization with a mixture of embarrassment, humorous disbelief, and cursing. (Under ten, so it's far more like nonchalance.) I finish cutting through the tape, releasing steam as I proceed to bleed copiously all over everything. Flo returns from the cab with a band aid, and it starts to rain. I make the executive decision that we shall close the truck up, enter the plaza's food court, eat lunch and wait for the precipitation to perchance peter out, and for my thumb to hopefully clot. So we go in, and eat. I discover that I am bleeding through the bandage. Wonderful. The rain stops. I wrap a napkin around my thumb and we get back to the truck. I add the coolant, tape the thing up, jam the cap back on and reapply the zip line. Then I get more bandages and waterproof tape on my thumb. It's that kind of day. Then we continue on to our lovely destination.

So this morning dawns with all the promise of a grand day. EXCEPT, we are not performing in the same space as before; we're going to the school. The one good thing about that is the school is so small there is no hope of our set fitting, so we still get to do a no set show. The bad news--for reasons I cannot fathom, they don't have to feed us. So van call is at 7:10 for a 7:30 load-in. I am downstairs for breakfast by 6:30 because I'm nuts. But as the minutes tick by and more of our cast comes downstairs, I notice that two people are conspicuously absent--Levitt and Flo, who room together. Remembering the time Levitt let Flo oversleep and end up late for van call, I send her a text message, around 6:50, hoping that wakes her up. At 6:55, I see Levitt come hustling out of the elevator, looking more disheveled than most mornings, and I realize she has overslept as well. But seeing her, I stop worrying about Flo, since obviously Levitt would have awoken her once she realized she was running behind as well. You know how I keep overestimating Levitt's competence? Well, I guess I overestimate her consideration and compassion for her fellow human beings. Apparently, Flo was still asleep when Levitt left the room, and she didn't wake her. SHe apparently woke up on her own at 7. Naturally, she was late to the van, which put us behind in getting there. But who the hell does that? I mean, if you wake up too early, like I sometimes do, and you know your roommate can sleep for another half hour before they have to get up, THEN you leave the room without waking them. But if you've overslept and are leaving with 15 minutes before your call, you wake them up. Hell, you wake them up when YOU wake up. ESPECIALLY when you know your roommate got into the hotel an hour and a half AFTER you did and has had very little sleep. I just don't understand what synapse isn't firing in that woman's head. So that started the morning off right. Then we get to the school and Levitt informs us that the school has a door that leads right into the auditorium. The problem? It's accessible only over the lawn, so we have to back the truck onto the grass and unload there. That means we have to unload all the road cases ON the truck, since they won't roll. Now, I have noticed that there is a sidewalk right where we are that leads to a door that leads (of all places) into the school. Extrapolating what I know of other doors in other schools, I surmise that once through the door we may find ourselves in a hallway. Hallways, I have come to understand, connect one part of a building with another part. Therefore (are you following me?) there should be one of these hallways that will lead to the auditorium, allowing us to roll our cases along the...what's the word, let me look it up....yes, here it is--the FLOOR. This suggestion has to be uttered a few times, and finally by Schneider before whatever synapses DO fire in Levitt's head go off and she has us move the van from the grass (yes, we actually had to do it) onto the concrete of the parking lot. Amazingly, the load-in went quite swiftly after that.

That brings us to the show. The show we did for roughly 30 kids. The show where everything the theatre gods could throw at us to try our patience and grace under pressure, they threw. It started in the first act, in Tell Tale, where, thanks to the fact we have to cut a bunch of upstage lights because we left one of the lighting stands in LAncaster, PA (yeah, isn't that FUN?) AND we had to cut even more of them since we're in a school and the breakers can blow at any moment, the stage is pitch black at one moment, right after I've hit the old man with the lantern. I turn t pace the lantern on the floor, bend over and WHAM! I smack my nose right into the top of one of the walls we put up as a background for the show. Standing up quickly, I turn to continue killing the old man, hoping more than anything my nose has not started to bleed. Thankfully it didn't. Then in Sleepy, the lights went out for a good five minutes of the show, having us lit only by three front lights, until they were able to trip the breaker. (Yep, we blew it anyway) The nice thing was that the kids were VERY into the show in the first act, despite any of the crazy stuff. The second act was another story. Monkey's Paw went pretty smoothly. Flo got her chance to appear on stage as the postman. With a no set show, we don't have a door, so there is nothing for me to be hiding behind before my entrance as the Factory Man so that I can hand Mrs, White a bill. Therefore, we need someone to go out and hand it to her. Schneider has gotten the nod the last two times, so Levitt let Flo do it. Dressed in Bob's Tell Tale Inspector outfit, complete with mustache and sideburns. There is a picture. I plan on blackmail, starting soon. The rest of the show was what could only be described as a clusterfuck. The Necklace saw us not being able to place the benches correctly (Using yellow and green spike tape to differentiate markings for the two acts doesn't work very well when you change scenes in BLUE LIGHT!) losing props (Mathilda became old and poor wearing an apron over a ball gown, instead of an apron and a hooded shawl. The sequins set off her poverty nicely) not being able to exit (The scene immediately following the ball, where the narrators are entering and Mathilda and Bernard are running home became something akin to a Keystone Kops routine since we all decided to try to use the same wing) and channeling the ghost of Frank N. Furter (Thanks to not being able to find the box with the necklace in it right away, Bob had to get Alice's attention from a different side of the stage by laughing in what some would call a creepy way. That tickeld me to the point where I went up on my next line. Instead of saying "Her heart beat fast with desire for the necklace. Her hands trembled as she touched it." I said "Her heart...trembled with antici....pation for the necklace, and her hands trembled with desire as she touched it.") The kids seemed to like it fine. And Frog. Oh frog. Alice comes on at one point as a female frog. For some reason, as I run offstage, I am met by Alice asking, "Where are my frog feet? I can find the hands, but not the feet?" I was of no help. So the female frog wore heels today. I am officially too old for this. At least load out went easily. And we ate lunch at Golden Corral, but no fatback....sigh. Vote for Pond in 2012--fatback at every buffet!

How does this happen?

So I had plans, gentle readers Lovely plans. Plans to once again this evening spout off about subjects other than our tour and myself. Plans to bring to light injustices being perpetrated against innocent victims and to lay into the aforementioned perpetrators. Yes, I had wonderful plans. But those plans lie moldering in the dust thanks to Levitt. I cannot in good conscience discuss that which I had planned to discuss and bypass the huge wad of stupid this woman dropped on top of us today. Perhaps, had this been an ordinary day, I could have found it within my heart to let her off the hook, but considering that the rest of the day had been so perfect, so easy, so stress-free, her actions became by comparison even more heinous and unforgivable. And so, I put my plans aside and bring you the tale of how Levitt ruined the perfect day.

We performed this morning at the Paramount Theatre in Aurora, IL. It is a beautiful old theatre at which I have performed before. The crew is incredibly professional, efficient, eager and helpful without being pushy and in your way They actually wait to be told what we need them to do before just grabbing stuff off the truck. They are also amazingly friendly and considerate, providing us with fresh coffee and doughnuts, and telling us that had we called beforehand, the woman who runs the place would've cooked for us. The dock loads directly onto the stage, and there's plenty of room for everything. Today started out incredibly well. Load-in took 15 minutes. Everything was set up and I was relaxing with coffee and a doughnut by 8:55. The show itself went amazingly well. The kids were loud and responsive and ate us all up. Every single one of us felt on top of the world. I said to Bob that if I could be guaranteed to work at nothing bt venues like the Paramount Theatre, I'd be hard pressed to stop touring. It is exactly the type of place you think about working when you dream of being an actor. I wish they had a resident company because I would do whatever was necessary to get into it. So after the show, they let us leave the vehicles at the theatre while we walked over to a little coffee/sandwich place nearby, where I got a chef salad made from some of the freshest ingredients ever, and a broccoli cheese soup that I honestly want the recipe to. Add that to a sugar free caramel latte with four shots of espresso in it, and I was floating back to the van. All I had to do now was sit in the van for a few hours while Bob and Levitt drove and navigated (respectively) us back to Ohio, which would be no problem, since we had already taken the route in when we drove to WI. We were well on our way and in good spirits. Once we got onto I-80, Levitt put the GPS aside and told Bob to just stay on the road and there'd be no problem. She then proceeded to read her book. A little while later, after dozing in and out of consciousness, I happen to look up and out of the window just in time for Carol and I to see a sign--Welcome to Michigan. Carol and I are suitably confused, since we both remember driving from PA to WI, which took us through Ohio, Indiana, and IL, never once taking us into Michigan. But just to be sure, I rack my brains, wondering if perhaps there's a stretch where 80 pops in and out of Michigan really fast. The answer of course was no. So I raise my head further and ask, "Why are we in Michigan? We don't need to be in Michigan, right?" Levitt looks up from her book, glances around as if SHE had just woken up, takes a cursory glance at the GPS and tells me, "we're fine." That's when I knew we were in trouble. The only time LEvitt ever says we're fine is when we are most decidedly NOT fine. Like when we're in Michigan as we try to get to Ohio from IL. I reiterate my concerns abut the necessity of being in Michigan and am summarily ignored, util she takes a closer look at the GPS and we pass a sign that gives us distance to Detroit. Then she starts flailing around trying to find a way to get us off 94. How we got on 94 I have no idea.

Now lest one of my gentle readers brings up the point that instead of saving all my vitriol for Levitt I should save some for Bob, I say this. 1) Bob was admittedly and well-documentedly exhausted 2)It is the job of the driver to drive and the navigator to get them where they are supposed to be. 3) It is also a rule that the navigator is not supposed to do things like put aside their directions or GPS system and read or do anything else to the exclusion of their actual duties 4) She had turned the volume of the GPS system down so it wouldn't disturb her, thereby making it impossible for the GPS to allow any of us to know a mistake had been made before we crossed state lines. 5) She knows that Bob kinda needs a guide when he drives. and 6) She swoops down on any navigational mistake made by anyone else, to the point of throwing atlases at them. So I feel fully justified in taking her on in this and placing the blame squarely on her shoulders. So once she discovers that I'm not pulling her leg, she gets us off 94 to a place where you can't get back ON 94 going the opposite direction so we can backtrack. As we are driving down this rod in the middle of a field, Alice asks what I must say is the greatest question, "When we get out of East Hineyfuck, can we stop somewhere so I can pee?" By this time we still hd not heard a single apology for messing up come from the front seat and Levitt. I am still waiting. Y'know, for that cold day in hell that will occur the minute she admits she has ever done anything wrong. We do stop at a gas station, and we all go in to pee, and I ask the lady behind the counter if she can help get us where we need to go. She gives me very easy directions to 80/90, which is what we need. I thank her, go out and tell Bob what she told me, after which LEvitt chimes in and after I ignore her, looking around as if I hear...SOMETHING....I understand that she is in agreement with me and "That's what we're going to do," only said as snottily as you can imagine. So we get into the van and start off on our way. The back fo the van, where I, Flo and Carol are, is in fine sprits, since none of us can keep a straight face. After a few minutes and a distance sign later, I remind Bob that the woman said it was just past Niles, which  is in 13 miles, so keep an eye out then, but not before. Levitt jumps in and brandishing the GPS she can't read, tells me she's got it, that everything's fine. And I'm thinking, "Oh yeah, like everything was fine when you allowed us to drive to the wrong freaking STATE?" I feel so much better already. Levitt by this time has done that thing she does whenever she makes a mistake and by that I mean, a lot. She has become short and snippy and defensive and arrogant with the people i the van, making it obvious that somehow it is all of us who have failed to live up to expectations, rather than her inability to pay attention to a map. AND STILL no apology. Oh yeah, this woman is a catch. Like the swine flu. 

W finally get back onto 80, and we immediately stop so that Levitt can kick Bob out of the driver's seat and take over....but not before we all have to stop at a service plaza and get dinner. She asks if we want to stop and eat or whether we just get something to eat in the van. We start to give opinions and get ,"So dinner here, sit and eat?" We capitulate, having foolishly forgotten when it comes to food, we do what Levitt wants, regardless of what the cast poll shows. So we do, using up another 40 minutes or so. Then we discover that we've just lost an hour, moving into EST. The general mood of the van has dimmed somewhat, although Flo, Carol, Alice and myself are having a lovely time shaking our head at the incompetence we are saddled with. The rest of the trip was uneventful. Levitt got us there by 9:00 p.m. (we crossed into MI at about 4:30) and got us checked in. This woman is such a bitch when I held the door open for her, FLO had to thank me. And I had brought her her freaking luggage. AND STILL NO APOLOGY! HAd this happened to one of us, had one of the other of us been navigating and gotten us lost in a whole other STATE, she would've had a fit. But we're supposed to let this slide by with no mention. It's pathetic. Add to that the fact the hotel had a hot tub that was barely tepid and this day, which had started so well, swiftly deteriorated into hopelessness and sorrow. I just can't believe we were in MICHIGAN! Thankfully we didn't go too far into it, but neither Carol nor I were keeping watch during the drive It was very likely we could've both NOT Seen the welcome to Michigan sign and we could've been halfway to Detroit before anyone realized what had gone wrong. And all because this woman can't pay attention to a piece of machinery. You want to read? Then TURN THE VOICE BACK ON!  YOU KNOW, SO IT CAN ALERT YOU WHEN SOMETHING IS HAPPENING? Sorry didn't mean to yell. This type of thing SHOULD be common sense, but there is no such thing as far as this woman is concerned. You want common sense? Then you have to just accept that she's on this planet to serve as a bad example. To show you what NOT to do in any circumstance. You do that, and you should have a pretty easy life. Just ask yourself, What would Levitt Do? then burn the bracelet and do the opposite, ya freak. Vote for Pond in 2012--Because I'm Smarter than Everyone Else Running....

Beauty Pageant Dropout

Hello gentle readers! I come to you from the lovely town of Aurora, IL. That's right--I'm HOME! For tonight at least. Our show today in Milwaukee was.....quiet. And just a little off. Apparently we were told the kids all enjoyed the show, though we certainly never would've figured it out by their reactions, since there weren't any. But we soldier on. After the show we were trying to get on the road as quickly as possible since we wanted to get to Aurora early because Marta was having the whole cast over for dinner, just like last tour. We had heard about this place near the University we performed at that made gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches, and we all decided to try it. First of all, let me say that Cheesy Grill, in Milwaukee, WI is a GREAT place. The food was excellent and the tomato soup was incredible. I got a cheesy Brat, which is a grilled cheese sandwich with a sliced bratwurst in it. They have all kinds of sandwiches, and I highly recommend going there if you get the chance. So the six of us who were in the van drove there and got our food, awaiting Levitt and Bob to arrive in the truck. We waited quite a while. Then MORE than quite a while. Finally they called trying to find out where we were. Now please understand, gentle readers, that the need to call for directions made all of us a little confused, since the directions were, turn right out of the parking lot onto 43rd, drive until it becomes Miller Ave, the restaurant is on your left. So basically it's a trip involving one street. Well, according to Bob, they had to make a detour since there was an overpass that Levitt wanted to avoid with the truck. Understandable considering what happened to the truck last tour, except for the fact that there is a huge sign telling you the clearance right as you approach the overpass which reads 13' 6"--an entire foot taller than our truck. Let me repeat that--a HUGE black and yellow sign with the numbers 13' 6" on it. But when they call me to find out where we are, they tell me they are at the corner of Miller Ave and National, staring at Miller Park, the baseball stadium. That means all they have to do is go through the intersection ON MIller towards the stadium and they will find the restaurant. I tell them this and hang up. We then await their arrival for an even longer time. Now, the reason we can't just write them off and head out is that Schneider has Bob's phone and wallet because he holds all the valuables during the show, and Bob has a tendency to forget to pick them up afterward. So we can't take off with that stuff and leave Bob trapped in a truck with Levitt without any money or phone. I call them again after a while to find out how they possibly managed to get lost, and find out that somehow, Levitt managed to go the wrong way on Miller and was having problems turning around and finding a street that allowed trucks. This confused me again since if she took a wrong turn on Miller there were ample places to turn around and just get back on Miller without having to deal with any other street. I tried to help them, but they had no idea where they were. o we just kept waiting until finally they managed to get their head out their ass and show up. I handed Bob his stuff, said goodbye, and we got into the van and took off as they went in to get food. So there you have it ladies and gentlemen, Levitt has the ability to get completely lost on a trip that should take ten minutes and involves ONE street! This is who Chamber figured was competent enough to run this tour. Need I say more about why I'm not doing this again?

So we managed to get to Aurora with plenty of time...to wait for the truck. Oy. Thankfully, they made it in enough time for us to get to my place at a decent hour to have dinner. This gathering went far better than the one from the last tour--no one fluked, no-one puked, and no-one tried to do the horizontal mambo vertically on my bed. It was a very jovial get together, with a lot of laughter, a lot of stories from the tour being told, and a lot of alcohol being consumed without anyone getting so stupid that you wanted to club them like a baby seal. Even levitt was tolerable, although I so want to take that woman and shake her until her brains rattle and some sense enters her head and she stops wearing the most horrific, unflattering outfits ever devised by mankind. I'd be able to handle it if she was wearing stuff just because she thought it was comfortable and didn't care what she looked like, but she goes to a lot of trouble to put herself together, and she thinks she looks GOOD. And dear lord she doesn't. Everything she wears de-emphasizes anything positive about her and emphasizes everything negative. And she's so proud......how is it possible women can be so clueless???? But that being put aside, it was a lot of fun, and I'm glad we did it. Marta loves cooking for people, and the cast certainly enjoyed having a home-cooked meal for once. I really do like this group of people, and I am sorry that the tour is almost over just because I am sorry that this team will be disbanded. The only way it could be better is if we could somehow add Michael, Steph, and Josh from the last tour to what we already have. I have no idea what that show would be, but it'd at least be a lot of fun to hang around with everyone.

So we have a show at the Paramount Theatre tomorrow, which is a GREAT place to work, and I am so looking forward to it. It should be a great way to lead up to two long ass drives, one after the show and the other on Wednesday, where I'll be driving the truck for 14 hours with Flo.  But what I really want to talk about tonight has (once again) nothing to do with the tour. It's about Miss California, who if you somehow haven't heard, lost out on the Miss America title at least in part because of an answer she gave to a question from judge Perez Hilton about gay marriage. She said she wasn't for gay marriage because she believed, no offense to anybody, that marriage is between a man and a woman. Perez then said later that her answer to that question led him to deny her the crown. Now, there are other judges beside him, so other people must've found some other reasons, or maybe the same one, to deny her the title completely. And let me say, I don't agree with her opinion. And I believe that Hilton has the right to judge the contest any way he sees fit, and if he wants to make his decision based on that question, that is his prerogative. But now, thanks to this question, and her answer, people are all over her and demanding she make an apology, which she has refused to give, making her  social pariah and the subject of ridicule and disgust from others, especially Hilton on his blog, which I have been told is his career. (Anyone want to tell me how to land THAT gig?) She has since refused to apologize, causing even more people to get pissed at her. And all I have to say is--STOP IT! I'd rather hear yet another report on how to protect myself from the horrible pandemic of the swine flu (cover your mouth and wash your hands....gee, really? Thanks so much for that highly technical medical info.) than listen to yet another group of pundits discuss this non-story. Why is this news? A blond bimbo from California (a state which, as you may recall, passed a resolution changing their state constitution banning gay marriage) says she doesn't approve of gay marriage. What a surprise! Who could have seen THAT coming? And the oversensitive, hyper, publicity hound flamer of a blogger (this is REALLY a job???) gets pissy and wont vote for her, so she doesn't win the title. Too bad. Moving on. Oh wait, you mean, you want to talk more about this? Okay, she won't say she's sorry. Moving on. What? AGAIN? Okay, flamer blogger (Can you pay the bills doing that?) is pissy she won't apologize. Again, huge surprise--I'm amazed. Okay, so we all know where we stand so we can get going.....NO! STILL?? 

Listen people--she answered a question honestly and according to her conscience. It's her opinion. She is entitled to it, regardless of whether we agree with it or not. She holds a position on a subject. She wasn't saying that gays who try to marry should be attacked. She has done nothing to hurt anyone. She voiced an opinion. She's allowed to do that. She's got a right to do that.  And just as Peres Hilton (His name is quite possibly the most creative thing he ever wrote) can disagree, and he can take whatever action he feels is appropriate as the judge of the pageant, but to attack the woman and demand she apologize for expressing an opinion in answering a question HE ASKED is stupid. Don't ask a question when you aren't able to deal with an answer which is contrary to what you want to hear. And this thing has become huge. First off, who the hell cares what this airhead surf bunny has to say about anything? All due respect to the Miss America corporation, but nobody wins that crown because they're a deep thinker. I don't give two shits what she thinks about anything because her greatest skill is standing still and looking pretty. So what Miss California thinks about gay marriage is irrelevant to me as to whether she is fit to be Miss America. Miss America doesn't really DO anything, people. She certainly doesn't hold any kind of office which affects policy in the US on gay rights. So whatever she thinks will have no impact on what happens to gays in the next year or so. So even if she had truly heinous opinions about gays (which from her statements you cannot assume) those opinions would have no chance of being enacted. I like the fact that we can have a Pope who was once a Nazi, but not a Miss America who isn't for gay marriage.

And who the hell is Perez Hilton, and why the hell should I give two shits what HE thinks? Wow, way to go out on a limb there, Perez, and ask a question about gays. Can't see why THAT came out of your mouth. And it's not like we don't know what answer you're looking for. It's a loaded deck--if she answers that she's for it, then most people will think she said it because she knows what you want to hear, and if she answers she's NOT, then she gets ripped for not being progressive enough. Try to understand this, my blogging friend--you are never going to get everybody behind gay marriage. NEVER. But you don't have to in order to get it passed. Just enough people. But here's an idea you twit--you really want to be a JUDGE, ask a question where it isn't so obvious what you want to hear. Actually MAKE them think. But you didn't. You asked the Californian something about gay marriage for all the reasons I listed above. You know CA doesn't go for it, so you wanted to put her on the spot and throw some drama into the program. It's a bush league play, and it's pathetic. Ask her something that indicates what she'd do if she was Miss America. Or here's an idea--ask her a question that requires her to DO some deep thinking, so that maybe we can get someone smart in that pageant. I think it's ludicrous anyone takes anything this guy says seriously. Talk about being famous for nothing. No wonder he made sure his name sounded like Paris Hilton. That way he'd be completely justified in pissing away his time on earth. He'd be famous for nothing

People, here's the thing. He asked, she answered, he didn't like it. Fine. Move on. Stop beating a dead horse. This horse has been beaten into paste by this point. He was a shit for asking that loaded a question, she was stupid for not realizing what he wanted to hear (though I applaud her for telling the truth) so move on. And he's a whiny little brat for getting his knickers in such a twist about it. Opinions mean nothing, only actions count. So as long as she lives and lets live, leave her alone. Especially since as far as I'M concerned, you're no great repository of intelligence either, so your opinion is pretty meaningless as well. Perez Hilton, and all of his ilk aren't anything but bottom feeders. They have no talents of their own, so they hang on to those who do and then take pleasure in trying to tear those people down. They are parasites and contribute nothing useful to society. So screw him. Good for you, Ms California, for sticking to your guns, telling the truth, and refusing to being forced to make an apology. Your answer was stupid and I don't think you have any idea what the hell's going on outside your little bubble, but that can be said about the vast majority of this pathetically uninformed, uncritical country, so i can't fault you THAT much. And I don't see why you  would apologize since you're being asked to by a freak like Perez. If William F Buckley told you you might want to rethink the subject, them maybe, but when a clown says you're wrong, it's hard to change your mind. SO can we all just let this go and stop giving a shit what two dumb, famous for no real reason people say about each other? These people DON'T MATTER in the long run. So stop giving them the attention they crave. It's like giving food to pigeons near your apartment. You do that and they're going to keep coming back. Pigeons near your apartment need to be shot at, not fed. And these putzes need to be ignored or ridiculed, not given attention and taken seriously. So there. Vote for Pond and Shoot at a Pigeon!

Not At All Funny

Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. I come to you from Milwaukee, WI, having spent Saturday night at my house in the Chicago area, and then spending today visiting my parents. It was lovely, and the drive yesterday was easy and uneventful. We have a show tomorrow morning at a local college here, Alverno, which promises to be an easy day, so I'm feeling very cool about the upcoming couple of days. What today's post subject line refers to has nothing to do with the tour, or even me. It refers to a news story I read this morning that concerns two 11 year old boys, in different cities, both of whom went home one day, tied something around their necks, and hanged themselves. What could drive 11 year olds to hang themselves? Homophobic taunting at school. Both of these children suffered through months and years of being teased and tortured by being referred to as gay. Neither of these kids were, as far as anyone knows, identified as gay. This teasing had nothing to do with reality of any kind. It was the kind of general taunting that kids do, using gay as a catch-all insult but also knowing instinctively that it's the kind of insult that will get the biggest bang for their bullying buck. Considering the fact this is the age when sex is starting to become a force in these kids' lives, the idea of insulting others for being outside the "norm" sexually speaking is the greatest thing a bully can come up with. They know everyone is nervous and embarrassed about sex (hell, THEY are themselves) so there's no way they're not going to get a rise out of people by calling them gay or fag or queer or girly. Take your pick. When I was a kid, not only was gay a big deal, but the concept that someone might masturbate was also used as an insult. I've never understood it, but I guess it had something to do with the idea of having to jack off instead of getting laid. This was in third grade. 

I understand that kids at a certain age are always going to go after the different or the strange, and that to a certain extent, this is something that you're never going to be able to change. To a certain extent, being made fun of is part of growing up, and to attempt to remove it completely from our children's lives is both wrong-headed and impossible. But this was not normal or usual name calling. This was incessant and unrelenting, pervasive and cruel. These two boys were apparently the targets of groups of kids who were out to do nothing but make every moment of their lives living hell. That is NOT part of growing up. There was no indication in the story (blog, really) I read about any intervention that may or may not have happened, any action taken by the schools they attended, or any involvement of the parents. It is possible neither of these kids told anyone what was going on. That is typical of victims of bullying, especially this type. It is also possible that they may have told their parents and teachers who may have been either unable or unwilling to assist. From my experiences both as a victim of bullying as a kid and researching the subject in my work with the touring shows I've done with Boom Troupe, I know firsthand that many times even if kids do tell adults in their lives that bullying is going on, they are either ignored, told there is nothing that can be done because it is their word against the other kids, or in some cases, told to grow up and deal with it. That is unacceptable. But what's even worse is when adults encourage the kind of torment these kids went through. WHat I'm talking about is the fact that when it comes to the type of teasing these kids had to deal with, it's adults that feed it. Sex teasing has to start with adults, because kids are ignorant of the subject. They take on the opinions they are exposed to. The story I read showed studies that found black kids are more exposed to this kind of teasing, and the explanation offered is because black adults feel that homosexuality is morally wrong and disgusting in a greater percentage than whites and Hispanics. And as the adults expound, their kids soak those opinions up and spit it back out at kids whom they dislike for whatever reason. We wonder why kids do these things even as we throw out words like fag and queer and worse without thinking of them. We toss out stereotypes of homosexuals callously, without thinking of the effect that has. These kids see the vitriol we exhibit when subjects like gay rights and gay marriage come up, and we still somehow wonder how it is they can be so cruel. They reflect US. They are the innocent voices mouthing our hatreds. And they are the innocent bodies that receive the blows of that hatred. Kids can't see how none of this will matter in a few years. They don't understand that the kids who are making fun of them might be acting out to make themselves feel less insecure about themselves. They can't take the long view. Their entire world is their school and the people therein. So it's damn near impossible for some kids to be able to deal with things like this, especially when it is unending and relentless. And so, these two kids took their own lives rather than live another day being tormented. And we ask ourselves how this can happen. We ask ourselves how kids can be so mean. We ask ourselves why no-one stepped in. And the answer is simple. Because we allowed it. We encouraged it. Our inability to accept allowed these kids to die. We as adults have to be able to let go of the distrust and dislike we hold for those who are different than us, and learn to accept. You don't have to like it, just live and let live. Because your feelings about who screws whom is not worth kids hanging themselves to make the taunting stop.  

Grab me a flight suit....

...and drop me on an aircraft carrier because boys and girls, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! Yes, that's right, just when I thought it was never going to happen and I was going to return to Chicago completely unfulfilled, it turns out that the universe has smiled upon me and last night, as I wandered into our Lancaster, PA hotel's western-themed bar, I discovered, much to my and Flo's surprise, A MECHANICAL BULL! Yes, ladies and gentlereaders, there it was, with a shining bovine halo behind it, surrounded by an inflated bounce house floor--a real, honest to god mechanical bull. What was even MORE exciting? IT WORKED and was available! Yes, after being teased cruelly both in Nashville and Dallas, Lancaster, PA handed me a bull that I could actually ride rather than one which was merely a rumor and legend. Who knew that in the middle of Amish country, I would find the very thing I needed in order to make my travels and travails worth the time?

So after signing the release to reassure the people that we wouldn't sue them should our silly determination result in an injury to something other than our dignity, I climbed aboard the bull, being more than willing to be first. I did that because since Flo is from Texas and has ridden horses if not bulls, I would look less pathetic if I went before her. I discovered just how wrong I can be. Before I get too much in detail about my horrific defeat, in my defense I would like to point out a few facts. 1) I am an Irish guy from Wisconsin--I'm not supposed to be good at this. 2) The bull was made out of hard plastic, which is very slippery, rather than fake hide or some other kind of surface I have seen other bulls made of. 3) There was likewise no saddle on the bull to diminish the slipperiness of the bull and 4) They told me to squeeze my thighs together to stay on, which on a slippery bull, does nothing but push you up and off the bull. Now that those disclaimers have been disclaimed, I'll tell you of my humiliation. I got on the bull sans shoes, and grabbed onto the rope that was protruding from the bull's back, throwing my right hand up in the air as one is supposed to do. (At least according to John Travolta in Urban Cowboy) The bartendress started the bull, whom I have dubbed Ferdinand, and I immediately grabbed on with my Urban Cowboy hand in order to keep my city boy ass on his back. And this was at what would be considered a slow walk. But as she increased the speed (from stroll to saunter) I was able to hold on. I believe I held on for at least 8 seconds, at least the first time. But as was inevitable, by the time we hit brisk perambulation, I slid right off of Ferdinand and hit the bounce house floor, much to the delight of Flo and the bartendress. She let me get on again, claiming that what i was about to experience was the hardest level. Internally, I doubted the veracity of that statement, as its truth would make Ferdinand the wussiest mechanical bull on the planet. But I kept my mouth shut, took her statement at face value, and got back on. She then started the bull again, and I had to cling on with all my might to keep from being immediately thrown. This was impeded, of course, by the fact I was laughing my ass off at the futile nature of my attempt and the pure comic genius of putting my ass on a bull. realizing that there was no way in hell I was going to stay on this animal with anything approaching dignity, I determined to fall off in the most incredible way possible. Since it was unlikely I was going to reach speeds necessary to go flying off Ferdinand's back, I decided instead to fall in such a way that had Ferdinand been a REAL bull, I would have immediately been killed in a particularly gruesome and YouTube-worthy way. I think I managed it, since at one point I was hanging on to the rope by one hand while hanging off the side of the bull upside down, yelling that i would not be thrown. Naturally, I was immediately thrown. That's what I'm all about. If I can't succeed, I insist upon failing with incredible style. And I do know that I succeeded, since Flo herself told me that I would have been both trampled AND gored had Ferdinand been real. And really, what else can you ask for?

Unfortunately, Ferdinand was the highlight of Lancaster. We had a 6:30 van call for a 7:00 load-in at a middle school this morning. The first horrible thing about that (other than ALL the previous sentence) is the fact that the free breakfast at the hotel did not start until 7:00, thus making eating before the van call impossible unless you were willing to get up really early and go find food. Thankfully, I had discovered a Starbucks within walkign distance that opened at 6, so Flo, Bob, and myself ended up there first thing in the morning to get something akin to food and coffee. As for the show AT the school, in order to NOT sound like a broken record, I will simply say this: I am sick and tired of this company feeling that the safety and well-being of its actors is less important than the set and lights. Once again we crammed damn near the entire set into a space which was too small for it, and we had to cut half the backstage lights in order to keep the school from blowing up thanks to an overload. On top of that, since there was no real space left on the stage once the set went up, I spent the show leaping over set pieces and lighting instruments in the dark in order to get to my fast change costumes. And since the stage was too shallow for our set, REALLY, we ended up with about 6-8 inches of playing space in front of the set. Since we do 90% of the show in front of the set instead of ON IT, that is a problem. So there we were, leaping over stage mics while trying to do a show for an auditorium of middle schoolers who were interested in pretty much anything but what we were doing.  Oh, and all the house lights stayed on through the whole thing. So there went whatever was left of our special effects. Oy. Stop it, just stop it. That's all I have to say. 

So now I am in Mars, PA until tomorrow, when we get on the road and head to Milwaukee, WI. Yay! Back to my old stomping grounds. Be afraid, America's Dairyland, be very afraid. But vote for me in 2012--Vote for Pond and He'll Deny Being From WI!

The Headless Music Hall

Greetings all, from Albany, NY. It's been a very relaxing day, since we had it off. It was great, actually. I walked into downtown Albany, and discovered that in addition to being a state capitol where most of the establishments attempting to trade on that fact didn't know how to spell the word correctly (Am I really the only person who knows the capitOl/capitAl thing? Get with it, people. The only place that had it spelled right was a Chinese restaurant!) it is also a city where a lot of the old time architecture is still around (I do love that. It's one of the main reasons I prefer Chicago to NYC) and has a LOT of cheap food. Mostly Chinese. But also a great pizza place called Jack's that offers two slices of one topping and a drink for $5. You can't do better than that, especially since it also happens to be excellent pizza. None of that CiCi's quality pizza, let me tell you. So take it from me--if you're ever in Albany, check it out.

Yesterday was a pretty good day. We had a show at this old music hall in Tarrytown, NY. The theatre itself was beautiful. The load in was a little less beautiful. It was very much like the theatre in Nashville where we had to park perpendicular to a porch and use a ramp to bridge from our lift gate to the theatre. Luckily, we had done before so it wasn't that big a deal. It also helped that the crew was really eager and plentiful, so not many of us had to do anything. Which was good for a number of reasons, mostly the fact that getting in the crew's way was a little hazardous. Flo almost got knocked off the ramp twice because one of the crew members was a little overeager to get stuff out of the truck. But on balance, it was a swift and easy load in. We were also told that we wouldn't have to cut any part of the set or any of the equipment for this space, so Schneider and I unloaded everything. Then we went inside. There was NO freaking space in the wings for all our stuff. Why? Because it was a music hall, not a theatre. I mean, there was wing space, but once you got everything back there, it was so crowded, you couldn't actually fit any people. But our paperwork said they used everything the last time, so we had to use everything this time, no matter how unwieldy. Oy. But the best part came when we were talking about the fact there was to be fog during the Sleepy Hollow ride, and the crew told us we couldn't use fog because it would set off the fire alarms. Levitt insisted we COULD use fog because the paperwork said we could. The crew tried to point out that they would know better than the paperwork, since they worked there, but Levitt continued to insist, until we were told we could shoot the fog out onto the stage for about a second to make sure it wouldn't set off the smoke alarms. So Levitt won, and the fog existed, but hardly at all, so whatever effect she was going for was mostly lost, but the point was made. The paperwork is always right. That was continued when we were all asked if we would mind cutting the act two platform extensions in order to make more room backstage. We all said we would be fine with that, since all they do is make the platforms longer, and we don't NEED that. WEll, after giving our answers to that question, we found out they weren't being cut because she didn't feel she could since the paperwork said they had used them last time. This guaranteed that the backstage area would be crammed with set pieces, making rushing backstage in order to make fast changes, like most of us do (especially ME) would be an obstacle course no matter which wing you went out. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I don't know why I keep expecting the ability to think for oneself to come out of our stage management.

The plus side of this equation was the kids. They really got into the show. I got gasps during the Tell Tale dismemberment, and laughs during Sleepy Hollow, which, considering these kids grow up with this story an integral part of their everyday lives, is pretty damn cool. We got big applause, and despite Ted's assertion that they hated us (which is what he asserts of EVERY audience) they loved every story. Necklace is one of the slower stories, so it's usually the one that gets very little reaction, at least til the end, but these kids went right along with the whole thing, no matter what. I love when that happens; it makes me feel like this show actually makes a difference to these kids. I have no idea how much of an impact what I do with this show has on any kid, but at least if they seem entertained and enthused by the show, I can assure myself that if nothing else, I made their life a little more enjoyable for 90 minutes. And really, sometimes that's all you can hope to do. The crew (who despite sometimes being near-fatal were all REALLY nice and friendly and helpful) made load-out easy, and were even nice enough to block off space on the street for us to leave our truck parked there while Levitt took all of us in the van to the Sleepy Hollow graveyard, where Washington Irving is buried. It was pretty cool, I must admit, even though I am in no way a graveyard aficionado. I got a picture of Irving's grave, and we spent a good amount of time walking around looking at moldy gravestones because Levitt really wanted to find the Van Tassels. When it was pointed out to her that they were fictional characters, she insisted that the crew guys told her they were buried in that graveyard. And in her defense, we found a couple. Both of them lived after Irving had written the story and had died long after mostly everyone else in the graveyard, leading me to believe they were faux Van Tassels. Both of them had died in the early 20th century, so it's likely they TOOK the name Van Tassel because of the story. But she was satisfied, which was good since we had a two hour or so drive to Albany staring us in the face, and Alice wanted to get home (she's from near Albany) and see her family. It basically took Alice pleading with Levitt that she had to use the facilities really badly to get LEvitt to finally get the van and take us out of the graveyard. I have to admit, I don't understand the draw of graveyards. It was historically interesting to see Irving's grave--for five minutes. But hey, it meant Levitt stayed in a good mood, so there's always a silver lining.

Today was a beautifully lazy day. After wandering downtown, I came back to the hotel in which there is a heated pool. Excited about that idea, I got down to the pool room and discovered that the heated part of that phrase referred to the room itself. The pool, at least the indoor half of the indoor/outdoor pool, was freezing. I found that interesting since the outdoor half was closed, but there it was. I guess I should have known it would be that way when I had to chip a hole in the ice to stick a toe in. Silly hotels. At least I found out I was wrong in my assumption that we have no free breakfast since the hotel has a full restaurant. They still feel compelled to feed us free in the morning, which I am all for. I'm even more for them serving BACON! IIiiiiiiiiiiiiiit's BACON!!! What can I say? I'm a man of simple pleasures. It's basically bacon and discussing epistemological issues. Simple. That's the kind of man you need in the White House. Pond in 2012--He Knows What Epistemological Means. It's a SImple Choice.

Let's go Nyacking

Hello, gentle readers, from beautiful Nyack on the Hudson (which sounds like one is hitting on Ms. Jennifer from Dreamgirls) where we are staying for our show tomorrow in Tarrytown, NY, the location of the actual Sleepy Hollow. That's right--I get to Ichabod where the original Ichabod Ichaboded long before people developed the annoying habit of turning nouns (even proper ones) into verbs. This part of NY is lovely, or would be if it weren't chilly as a welldigger's witch and rainy as all get out. But it is thankfully not very far from our venue tomorrow nor is it very far from where we were this morning, namely Brooklyn College, where we discovered that Brooklyn kids can be just as quiet as Boston kids. The show went okay, even though I nearly wiped out during Tell Tale Heart, catching my back foot's heel on the coffin step as I jumped down to hit the old man with the lantern, causing me to skid and nearly fall flat on my ass. Luckily I was able to catch myself and get the hit off without too much trouble. But I was thinking the whole time, "If I wipe out right now, we might as well just go right on to Sleepy Hollow, because we'll never get the kids back from that." Add to that Alice coming on for the Monkey's Paw without the Monkey's Paw, and you can tell what kind of show it was. But we got through it and the people who came to see it seemed to like it. I refer to the friends and family of certain cast members. They enjoyed it.....for the most part. I got a very accurate review of the show from my guest, and since I agreed with everything said, it really is a good thing I am not coming back. I'm just tired of this right now, and need to move on. So here we go--moving on...

We ended up having to call Ryder to come and deal with the truck after we unloaded it since it died while I was backing it up to the loading dock. It turns out that when it went in for its maintenance, the guys at Ryder forgot to put the cap for the coolant back on, so coolant was sloshing around everywhere, and causing it to periodically think it had enough, then realize it didn't. So the guys jury-rigged a cap, filled the tank,a nd the truck works fine. Thank goodness that happened, since Levitt decided she wanted me to go in the truck after the show with Tim to take it to the local Ryder place to have it looked at. She would've gone, she said, except that her finger was making her shaky. This woman is constantly having serious issues with her health every couple of weeks, which happen to hang on just until her new ones arise. It's ludicrous. She was acting like an infected finger (which was now being treated with antibiotics) was going to go gangrenous on her and do her in. She makes my kidneys thrum.

The one moment of excitement came courtesy of Flo, who at lunch discovered that she didn't have her driver's license. She figured she had left it in her other jeans, so we continued on to the hotel, where she discovered that no, she hadn't left it in her other jeans. Nor her purse, nor the truck, nor the van. Nor had it fallen into MY bag which had been sitting underneath hers on the floor of the truck on Sunday. It apparently had vanished into thin air. (Wouldn't it be easier for something to vanish into THICK air?) Well, she found it. In the Italian pastry shop in Manhattan. Lucky for her, that's  mere 45 minute train ride. So back into the city she went, only to turn right back around and hop on the trian back as soon as she had the thing. She asked me to drive her and pick her up, which I was glad to do since she didn't need to be driven three hours across state lines, unlike some OTHER cast members....

The hotel we're staying in is a Best Western which has decided that amenities are overrated, so they offer none. No free coffee in the lobby, no laundry, no usable microwave for guests, not even any real continental breakfast. They have a wonderful restaurant in which you can get a free continental breakfast as long as you have a coupon and it strictly requires you to get coffee, juice or fruit, a bagel, toast or cereal, and that's it. Anything else needs to be paid for. Oy. I can only hope that the show at least goes easily tomorrow, though considering the size of Tarrytown (where the train station was, so I've seen it a couple times tonight) I can't imagine the space is going to be that big. We'll see. I would just like it if NY could get it together and realize it's SPRING. This cold rainy stuff can end. Right now. Consider it one of the first things I'll address in my administration. I mean come on--that's environmental, caused by global warming, or El Niño, or Nina Hartley, or something.... Pond in 2012--Springing it on America!

I heart/hate NY

Hello, gentle readers, from Brooklyn, NY, a destination I was loathe to approach and fortunate to reach! If you've been paying any attention to this blog, you know that I DESPISE New York City, and that driving to it/through it is the bane of my touring existence. Especially when I have to drive the truck. Like I did today. So Flo and I set out early this morning, with me convinced I was, as always, going to hate going into the city. And was I ever right. Flo started out the day driving, and within five seconds of being in the truck, we had problems. The truck died. Great. Thinking it was a fluke, we restarted the truck and headed out. Everything seemed fine, until all of a sudden the dashboard lit up with warning lights screaming such things as CHECK ENGINE, ENGINE PROTECT and RANGE INHIBIT! This, naturally, caused Flo some consternation, until as quickly as they appeared, the warning lights vanished, leaving us with a vague ill feeling. But all seemed well, so we continued on, keeping an eye on the dashboard. Good thing we did, because every so often the warning lights come back on, flashed for a while, then disappeared. We were low on gas, so I thought perhaps if we filled it up, something might be kicked into gear. (What can I say? I don't know jack shit about trucks.) So we filled up, rested, took a breather, prayed to the truck gods, and got back into the truck. I need to point out that this is our old truck, the one that spent a few days with Ryder not only getting the few repairs done, but also getting its scheduled maintenance. So theoretically, this truck should be in peak condition, not giving us fits. 

So, with trepidation, and a little hope, we set out from the gas station. And within about fifteen minutes, ended up with the lights coming back on. Having had enough of this, and already having checked the manual and found precious little information about these lights other than--they indicate engine problems and can shut the engine down if the problem is severe enough--I decided to call Levitt and let her know what was going on and see if she had anything useful she could impart to us. It turns out she did. According to her, after these trucks undergo their scheduled maintenance, these warning lights have a tendency to go a little wonky and light up even though there's nothing wrong. Reassured, we continued on without paying too much attention to the lights. I bought into what Levitt told me because I could believe that maintenance could reset certain systems and bring the parameters into more strict lines. And the manual told me that the protect engine system would slow the engine down and ultimately shut it down, and neither of those things were happening. Nor were any of the problems listed that could cause these lights to come on present. So I felt reasonably secure that all was as Levitt had described. Someday I'll stop making that mistake. As we were exiting one expressway to get onto another, the truck died with no warning. On the exit ramp. In the middle of traffic. That caused Flo not only consternation, but brief moments of panic. Thankfully, I had also read in the manual that it could be overridden by turning the truck off and restarting it from scratch. We did, and immediately pulled of the road into a gas station's parking lot to let the truck rest, hoping that would miraculously heal it. (I told you I know jack shit about trucks) When we returned to the truck, i took over, since Flo had been through enough, and we were approaching Brooklyn, and I had promised her that I would drive the truck through Brooklyn. Yep, that's how nice a guy I am. Remember this, gentle readers, when someone in the future tries to impugn my character. So we take off, and sure enough, after a while, the lights come back on, but the engine continues to run, and the lights disappear. I am able to keep their appearances to a minimum the rest of the trip by keeping the truck's speed between 45 and 65. I don't know why that happened, I merely report that it did. The lights still came on, just not as often. And then we were in Brooklyn itself, just a few miles from our destination, and I began to think that maybe, just maybe, we could get there without anymore problems.

One of these days I'll stop thinking things like that. New York apparently knows I hate it and the feeling is mutual. So as we were traveling into the city of Brooklyn, I ended up having the truck die on me three separate times. THREE! Within about as many miles. At red lights. I have no idea why, just that it happened, and that i was ready to kill. Add to that the fact the streets in Brooklyn are stupid skinny and even when they're not people in Brooklyn feel that double parking is a right AND a privilege, and you can imagine the attitude I had toward everyone involved in creating the borough of Brooklyn. Thankfully, we were able to make it to our destination--the venue we'll be performing at tomorrow. They're very kindly letting us park the truck there since there's no chance in hell of parking it anywhere in the city. Schneider and Levitt came to pick us up in the van and I informed them of what had happened. We need to have the truck looked at since we have major driving to do this week and next. We have a short drive tomorrow from Brooklyn to Tarrytown, so I think if Levitt took the truck in before we headed out and let the van head up to our destination, we could have the whole thing dealt with before we travel to Albany and thence to Milwaukee. And I'll tell you, they HAVE to get it looked at before I put my ass back into it to drive 700 miles. Add to that the fact the hotel was making it hard for us to check in and it briefly appeared that we weren't going to be able to get more than one room for awhile, and I was ready to write the entire city of New York off for the rest of my life.

Well, I have to say, I don't hate NY quite as much anymore. I met my ex, Cyrilla (sorry, no alias for you) in the Village for dinner and venting about both our careers, and I experienced a lovely diner called the Washington Square Diner, and I was shown not only the best place for gelato (Cones--I have never had ginger gelato before, but I have to say, what these guys have is worth trying) I also was led, thanks to Flo, to a kick ass coffee shop named Café Reggio (Very artsy, very NY) which had excellent coffee and horrendous service and an Italian Pastry shop (Thanks, Flo!) with to die for cannoli. It was actually quite cool to walk around the village and other parts of Manhattan instead of driving through them. The only other times I've been to NY I have either been driving large vehicles, working, or stuck int he incredibly overdone touristy parts of the city, all of which make me cringe. This was seeing the city from a local's point of view, so it was a) a lot more relaxing since I had no deadlines or stress and b) a lot less crowded and annoying. So I have to admit, while I probably would not give up Chicago for NY unless I got a sweet gig out there, I no longer hate the city just on principle. I still hate driving through it, but the city itself, at least the Village, is a lot cooler than I originally thought. Though I must admit, the garbage all over the street is still icky. And the guy peeing in the trash can also is a turnoff. Sorry, NY, just sayin'.....

Drunken revelry

Step right up, folks, come one, come all. Drunken revelry is the name of the game, and everybody can play! All you need is a group of people, a space, some alcohol, and a reason to get silly! Thankfully, we had all three of those things last night when we made our way into Manchester, NH to do full group karaoke. It was the first time the entire group had gone out on the town since the celebration of my birth, which, as we all remember went so well that we shall never again speak of it. We found a nice local bar that was damn near empty when we got there at 9:00. That was cool, since it's nice to go out to karaoke and get a chance to sing more than one song in a 5 hour period. I knew I wouldn't be doing any Elvis since lately my voice has been getting very tired after the shows, so I instead chose to visit the Bee Gees oeuvre. That went over like gangbusters, causing one woman to insist on putting in Play That Funky Music White Boy for me to sing. Thankfully for all involved, it ever happened. I had started imbibing before we made our way to the bar, downing a small bottle of Knob Creek just to get the cords warmed up, so once we got there, I only had one Jack and Coke, since I was technically the designated driver. The hilarious thing is that not that many of the cast have hung out at karaoke with me on a regular basis, so they haven't seen what I'm like out on the town very much. That caused Carol to doubt my word when I told her I was stone cold sober. What can I say? I like to jump around and sing along at the top of my lungs without alcohol. If I drink a lot of alcohol, I just want to nap.

The attitude of the group was jovial and high spirited, even before the spirits, so it started out lovely. Of course, as the evening wore on, the place got PACKED. Like within an hour. With Yuppies--or as Alice calls them, "Chads". Way too many polo shirts and baseball caps. Can someone please explain this strange need to add a baseball cap to every outfit? It's ridiculous. I see more people like this in the NE than anywhere else. Completely dressed as if they're going to a work function, then WHAM! A baseball cap. Please, someone stop this. Baseball caps do NOT go with everything. Especially if your don't curve the brim. If the brim of the cap is just sticking straight out, then you really look like a geek. Particularly when you have it paired with khakis and an argyle sweater. And then there were the female counterparts to the Chads--the Ashleighs. (I imagine that's the way the girls who would belong to that group would want it spelled.) Tans that were of a color not found in nature, and more breasts on display than a KFC convention. Now understand, I have nothing against boobs on parade, but they happened to be attached to a lot of "I know you're looking at my tits because I want you to look at my tits because I know my tits are hot but I'm going to act like you looking at my tits offends me because how dare you objectify me like that you bastard" girls. (And to be completely honest, they might have thought so, but not ALL their tits were hot) I hate that attitude. ANd it fits in so well with the Oxford shirt and Red Sox cap crowd. It wouldn't have been so bad if there hadn't been large sweeping herds of them sweeping largely through a very small space. The girls were drinking heavily--Flo attempting to make up for lost time, joined Levitt in an Irish Car Bomb. Those really are quite lovely, despite the name, and Schneider was well on his way to unconsciousness before we left. There were no characters like J Blue to scare Flo, though the woman who wanted me to sing Funky Music was a little pushy, so the cast decided I must just have a way with drunken scary cougars, since I was accosted by one in Savannah as well. Yep, there it is--my sparkly vampire power.

Bob disappeared rather early in the festivities to head over to the local gay bar to see if he might be able to make Carol's dream of him getting some come true. I'm not sure what it is about the gals on this tour but both Carol and Alice seem obsessed with the idea of male/male action. I've met one woman in my entire life who I would say was sincerely into that idea and now I am touring with twice that number. Gotta love live theater. By the time we were ready to leave, he had returned empty....handed, and we returned to the hotel to drop Carol off, and the rest of us headed out to the one place in Manchester still open at almost one in the morning--the Red Arrow café. This place is a serious old school diner, roughly the size of my first studio apartment, and it was stuffed to the gills with hungry people. I shit you not, gentle readers, we had people lined up against the back wall the entire length of the establishment. The one positive is that the establishment was NOT very long. We weren't exactly sure how long we were going to have to wait with a group of six (Schneider had passed out in the van after we got there, and Flo was pretty wobbly, though still solid enough to imbibe some coffee and breakfast.) As it turned out, not too long. We got six stools at their counter and proceeded to get us some good greasy spoon food. ANd let me tell you, the Red Arrow is a place everyone who come anywhere near MAnchester, NH must go to. The food is excellent--at least the omelettes were. I had a kielbasa and cheese omelette and it was amazing. Well worth the wait. And the waitress, despite being so swamped that I honestly believe she never once stopped moving the entire time we were there, was attentive, friendly, and polite. She even asked us before we ordered if we all wanted separate checks. I love that, since I usually am the one who has to ask that question for this group. The downside of that is I usually order last. So that resulted in a nice tip for her. We lingered as much as you can linger in a diner where annoyed drunken hungry people are standing right behind you as you eat, then returned to the hotel, where I hit the hay by about 3:30. Oh yeah, that's the way we play it when we have a day off!

For the record, the show Friday in Manchester went very well. The crew was wonderful, and the load in was relatively easy. We loaded in in an alley, which is not usually a problem, save for the fact the alley had fire escapes on one side of it. Low fire escapes. Schneider scraped along one of them coming in, and I scraped along the other pulling the truck back in for load out. But no permanent damage was done, and the truck still has its top. The kids at the show were really into it--got gasps and shudders as I dismembered the old man, and many laughs as Ichabod, so all is right with the world. The theatre in Manchester, while not huge, is one of those old theatres that I do enjoy playing in. It just makes me feel like I'm really an actor when i work in one of those places, since it has so much history. Hopefully, we can keep the good vibrations going when we head to Brooklyn.

Today started out kind of weird. Levitt ended up getting driven to the emergency room this morning by Flo. Turns out Levitt woke up this morning after going to bed completely healthy with her left index finger swollen and oozing pus. Apparently she had broken the skin somehow during one of the many days we do things that make breaking your skin easy, and got it infected. She has drugs, and it is getting better. It is the cast's opinion this will now keep her from doing anything to help at load-in for at least three weeks. The scary part is, that will probably speed things up. What I really want to know is this--Levitt works in the same environment we do--she lifts and touches the same things we all do--in fact, she actually touches a lot less than we do. We all break the skin on our hands. Even using gloves like I do doesn't completely protect you while unloading or loading the truck, and then setting everything else, there are so many ways to break the skin on your hands. And it's not like any of us are soaking our hands in a Palmolive-like concoction made up of heavy antibacterials, so how the hell does she get something like this and we don't? I've never suppurated spontaneously like that before, and I will admit to not having the cleanest hands in the world. But she must be washing her hands with toxic waste! And considering the fact Levitt has now singlehandedly knocked two hotel room toilets out of commission by USING them, one can certainly see how she just might, possibly, on a long shot be a breeding ground for foreign bodies bent on the destruction of your immune system.  I don't know what she's doing (or not doing) but I am for sure going to watch out when she comes near me.....

SO that's it really. It's been a nice weekend--Flo, Alice, Schneider and I went to a local place tonight for ice cream. Blake's makes its own ice cream and has since 1900. It was really quite good. I had eaten lunch there, and they also make incredible omelettes. I applaud anyone who actually pays more attention to filling the omelette than on fluffing the eggs. Alice has been trying to get Schneider to go to a malt shop with her for a 50's date, and she showed up completely done up in pigtails, rolled up jeans, a sweater and her hair done up in a swoop, looking very Betty from the Archie comics. She was committed. After denoting which of the Archie characters the rest of us were (Yes, I was Archie--who the hell ELSE am I gonna be?) we headed off for ice cream. Considering we have an early van call for Brooklyn tomorrow, and I'm driving the van INTO the city (I HATE NY!!!) I am happy I had this day to do as little as possible. SO ZI shall talk to you all soon, and remember--Pond in 2012--Saying NO to Toxic Waste Towelettes!

Packing it in

Not much to discuss tonight, gentle readers. I have discovered that this tour is less post-worthy, if only because the extent of the stupid/evil behavior is less far-reaching than that of the last tour. That's wrong to say, though. This tour isn't less blog-worthy, just inspires less elongated rants. Luckily, the rest of life still exists, and that's always a good source of rant material. So fear not, you'll still get a steady diet of my vitriol. Aren't you lucky?

Today went smoothly--certainly more smoothly than the last time we were at the Hancock Center this week. And the kids were less of an oil painting. I figure by the time we reach the end of the tour, we'll have figured out how to make a Boston audience get into the show. And once again, it's weird because I felt the show went very well. Who knows? The important part is that tomorrow I'm telling Levitt I'm not interested in coming back to do the fall tour. It'll be turning down another four months of lucrative work in order to go home and hope to whatever's out there I find some sort of employment, but I really do need to get out of working for Chamber. I have nothing against them, but I've done this, and done it to the fullest extent I can, and have gleaned all I can from it. It's not going to do anything more to advance my career anymore, so I really have no reason to stick with them, because while I do enjoy the show, I don't enjoy it THAT much. I stayed with Boom Troupe longer than I should have because I loved what I did with them, and it wasn't until I started to NOT love what I was doing that I looked for something else to do. Well, now it's time to look for something else again. I am serious about attempting to put together something for kids. I have some ideas I'd like to try to develop, and I am further serious that anyone who wants to be involved, let me know. I think I have a pretty good idea of how to make it work. Or I could just be dreaming. Who knows? I do feel a little loopy.

I'm just getting burnt out--not so much on the show, since it's different than i did last time, but on the whole tour stuff surrounding it. Today, one of the crew guys at the Hancock center complimented us o the fact that we come in, unload the truck, set everything up, DO the show, then reload everything back into the truck. "Nobody does that," he said. It was nice to hear somebody appreciate just what a grind this is. I'd probably be less burnt out if I didn't have to do all the physical work on top of everything else. But hey, it is what it is, and I'll say this--at least it's keeping me in shape. I really need to cut back on the cheap food, since that's all carbs. Oy. I am so rambling tonight. Anyway, the upshot of all this is--show went well, I'm tired of lifting prosceniums, luckily we have a weekend in the same hotel until we drive into Brooklyn on Sunday, and I am looking for work for the summer so anybody knows of anything, let me know. There, that makes more sense. Pond 2012--He's a Ramblin' Man!

Adverteasing

Tonight, gentle readers, I would like to discuss overly sensitive people. But first, the tour news. We performed today in West Springfield, at a high school, where a number of middle schools were bused in. What this meant was all the annoyances of a private performance with none of the benefits (i.e free lunch.) And on top of it all, the audience was another quiet group. I don't understand the problem. I would blame it on our intensely strict opening speech, except it doesn't seem to have the same effect on audiences outside of Massachusetts. I blame it on the Puritans. But then, in all fairness, there's very little abut this country's psyche that I DON'T blame on the Puritans. The show itself went very well again, at least as far as I can tell. When you're not getting a lot of reaction, it isn't easy to gauge. But it felt good, so I guess that's all that matters. We then drove back to Boston, to the same hotel we had just left the day before. We are doing another show tomorrow in the same theatre we were just at. How much fun is that? Hopefully we can get to the free breakfast tomorrow before the 70 asian students who rolled in here tonight sweep down upon the breakfast room like locusts and strip it clean. Every single time we stay here, there's some sort of school trip that lodges here at the same time and gets all up in our way in the morning. I don't know what it is about this particular hotel, because it doesn't seem like it's really near anything or in a great location. But there's always a tour bus or two. Oy. I don't want to have to hack and slash my way through a bunch of inscrutables to get to my morning eggs.

And that last statement brings me to tonight's rant. It seems that Burger King has had to pull a commercial for its new Texican Whopper because it offended some Mexican groups. The commercial follows the pairing of a cowboy and a Mexican midget wrestler. The slogan? The Texican Whopper--a whole lot of Texas, with a little Mexican thrown in. Now that's funny. But apparently, such a thing offends too many Mexicans. The legal thing they hung their hat on was the fact that the midget wrestler is apparently draped in a Mexican flag, and that's against the law in mexico. It's not the proper way to display the Mexican flag. The proper way of course being tied to the antenna of a Honda Civic as it zooms through the streets at 3 a.m. with its horn blaring and mariachi music pounding out the windows while drunken Mexicans hang out said windows yelling at the top of their lungs. But a midget wearing it over his shoulders? NEVER! This is really something to get offended at? This is the big media portrayal of Mexicans you have a problem with? Nobody here has probably seen this commercial except on YouTube because from what i have read it is only being shown in the UK and Spain, where it meets all legal parameters. This is pathetic. People are up in arms about THIS? This is insulting to Mexicans, but Carlos Mencia using blatant stereotypes of Mexicans in his sketch comedy show wasn't? Throwing around the term "beaners" wasn't? But see, he's allowed to because he IS Mexican. If he does it, then it's observational comedy. If we do it, it's racism. If there's anyone who has a leg to stand on when it comes to being offended by this commercial, it's midgets! The comedy doesn't come from him being Mexican, it comes from him being a midget. So they're not really poking fun at Mexicans, they're poking fun at midgets. So I say, get the midget defamation league on this! I'm sure it'll be taken care of in very short order. (Sorry, I just HAD to)

Please, people, can we all just lighten up? I am so sick and tired of constantly hearing about how this group is outraged over such and such, or that group is offended by thus and so. Nobody was setting out to belittle Mexico (sorry) they just found a funny play on words and went with it. If you are so uptight that you can't laugh at yourself that much, then really, do us all a favor and retire to a cave somewhere and become a hermit. You have got to be able to laugh at yourself a little and not just assume that every joke is some malicious smear against your culture. Everybody's so sensitive nowadays. And I know there's gonna be a bunch of people who say that I can't really say anything about it because I'm not Mexican, so of course I'd think it wasn't offensive. To them I say, get stuffed. Of course I can understand someone being upset if they think their culture is getting slammed. But at the same time, I also think you have to be able to laugh at the idiosyncracies of your culture. I mean hell I'm Irish, and I can laugh at anything you throw at me about the Irish. But see, the Irish just have a better sense of humor about themselves than, say...the Mexicans. And again, the joke made about this guy had less to do with his ethnicity and more to do with his height, so I don't really get why these groups are so outraged. And of course Burger King had to issue an apology for offending these wackos. Screw them! My apology would be more along the lines of "Sorry you can't take a joke." I would like to think that this is the work of a few very vocal pains in the ass who have nothing better to do than work themselves up into a lather about anything they can find, and that the majority of both Mexicans and Americans can take the commercial in the spirit it was created--as a pun, not a slur. But I guess I can't blame Burger King. I mean hell, if they piss off Mexico, where the hell is their next batch of employees gonna come from? And excuse me, but if Mexican culture is so great, why the hell is everyone trying to get over the border?

Now THAT was offensive. See the difference? You're welcome.

What's for Dinner?

Not Meat Loaf again!!! Fans of The Rocky Horror Picture Show will recognize that line as the introduction of Meat Loaf as Eddie, coming out of the freezer in order to sing Hot Patootie. People who are not fans of Rocky Horror now know 2 things about the movie they didn't know before, namely Meat Loaf comes out of a freezer as Eddie to sing Hot Patootie, and his intro line shouted by the audience is What's for dinner? Not Meat Loaf again! Think of me as a wandering educator.

Now, fans/not fans of the movie may be saying to themselves, "Thank you Andrew for reminding/informing me of such a lovely and integral scene from this movie I love so/never really cared about. But WHY?" The answer is simple. I just watched last weeks episode of House online, and lo and behold, who do they have as the major sick guy? Meat Loaf! I don't know why I always get a smile whenever  see him acting. Perhaps it's because of the fact I know that was always the career he preferred and had wanted to truly pursue. Perhaps it's because of the fact that I'm always pleasantly surprised someone gives him the opportunity. Maybe it's because of the fact every time I see him, I realize he's not at all bad. He was actually quite good in this episode as a man dying of heart failure who seems to improve as his wife starts getting sicker. There's even a moment in the show where he decides he will allow a risky transplant procedure so he can die on the table and give his wife his liver. I half-expected (and was happy they didn't) an "I would Do Anything for Love" reference. And his character's name was Eddie! How cool is that? These are the things that entertain me. What can I say? I'm a man of simple pleasures.

That was a pleasant surprise to help end an otherwise stressful day. We got to the Hancock Center in Boston and unloaded the truck--completely, since Levitt had to go drop off the new truck and get the old truck which was now repaired before the show started. That meant she wasn't going to be around for setup. This was no problem since she's really more trouble than she's worth, when you boil it all down. She informed a bunch of us of this situation before we left this morning as we were standing outside the hotel. It is very important, gentle readers, that you all remember that the one person NOT in this group was Bob. Why? Because she informed all of us that Bob would be the one running setup and would lead the raising of the proscenium since he had done everything with it before. Remember, Bob was not in this group. She then went to the van. As we were going through setup, we all realized it was going very slowly, mostly because Bob moves very slowly and methodically. But he seemed to be avoiding the proscenium raise, and that needed to be done before Flo could go out and start house managing, since she was needed to help in Levitt's place. So we informed Bob he needed to raise the proscenium, which surprised him, because he though Levitt was coming back to do it. Why? Because she had never told him anything about doing it. But facts were facts, and we raised it, which turned out to be a problem, since Bob had never done certain pre-raise duties, like tying off the ropes which hold the scrims in place, which meant they both unrolled as we raised it. All of this put us way behind, and I kicked myself for not having informed Bob of what Levitt had told us in front of the hotel that morning. I had assumed she would have told HIM during the drive to the venue. Once again, I overestimated her competence, and it bit me in the ass. I have to stop doing that. 

Well, thanks to all that, and the fact that Bob really never deals with placing the deck in the correct place--meaning we had to readjust after we got the proscenium up--by the time Levitt came back, which was around 9:30 (10:30 show remember) we weren't anywhere near ready for the house to open at 9:45. She comes in and immediately demands to know why the set isn't up. Bob informs her he didn't know he was supposed to get everything done in her absence, since he would have informed HER that there were things he didn't know how to do and could she show him, and he would have moved with more alacrity had he known she wouldn't be back in time. She claimed to have told him A WEEK AGO. When I tried to jump to his defense I was dismissed by a raised hand and a snort. I decided to go about my business instead of putting a boot through her face. Another instance of nothing ever being her fault. She felt it necessary to tell me about unloading the truck completely this morning, even though we had discussed it three days ago, but she tells Bob something a week ago and it doesn't rate a reminder? Sh never told him, period. Bob would've remembered having that conversation, since the prospect of doing it all by himself would've worried him. But she can never be at fault. I am so tired of working with people dumber than I am.

Thankfully, we were able to get the show up near on time--and we went late only because 300 kids showed up at the last minute. But it was all for naught, as far as I'm concerned, since the over 1000 kids were about as responsive as an old man's reflexes. Yep, oil painting city. Plus Pat was seeing the show. Lovely. The ironic thing is that the show actually felt like one of our better performances. Too bad the audience didn't agree, or at least sound like they agreed. Well, you can't win 'em all. Levitt came up after the show and told me to let her know if I'm interested in the fall tour. I am so happy that tomorrow I will be able to go to her and say no. Ahhhhhhh. Sweet freedom. Especially since I just heard that we will be doing another reading of the math show in May 8th AFTER our performance that day. Lovely! And you know what's even better? It's not going to be of a rewrite, it's going to be the same damn script! HOW THE HELL can these people be successful? It's ludicrous! This show needs a rewrite, and they're going to just listen to the same bad stuff all over again? It's horrible! SOmeone shoot me! Better yet, shoot them! I am so tired of this. Even if I hadn't already made up my mind not to come back in the fall, this did it. I can't deal with this kid of dumb anymore. I know, I know, dumb is everywhere, but this kind of dumb is rare and needs a very specific set of circumstances to flourish, and I would like to remove myself from those circumstances.

Anyway, that's all there is from today. It was an otherwise easy day, and we got to Springfield, MA with no incident. Tomorrow is another day, and I can only hope it's one that doesn't result in me wanting to put my fist through someone's spleen.