Weighing in.

Hello gentle readers, from Dover, DE. it has been quite the day, let me tell you. Today was the day we were to have two shows, then drive for 6 hours. What today became was a lesson in jsut how swiftly one's assumptions about a day can be turned on their heads. It started out badly when Schneider led us to the wrong venue this morning. He had insisted he knew where it was back on Saturday, when we arrived, and Levitt believed him. As it was, he didn't. Though I do understand why he thought he knew--the name of the venue was the Arts of the Albermarle, and where he took us was the College of the Albermarle. Luckily, nothing in Elizabeth City, NC is far away from anything else, so we were able to find our way to the actual venue. Or should I say the van was able to find their way. Levitt left us behind at two different stoplights, apparently thinking that we were in some way able to follow their vapor trail like a Romulan Bird of Prey. ( A tip of my hat to the Trekkies out there.) Thankfully, we were able to catch up with them. Had we bee in an actual city, we would still be driving around looking for them. The venue was a storefront arts complex which had a newly renovated theatre...on the second floor. That's right--anyone feeling a sense of deja vu? I was terrified. Especially since we showed up at 7:20 for a 7:00 load in and no-one was there. We discovered that the venue had the load in time as 7:30, so Tim's delay turned out not to be the huge problem we had originally thought it was. There's turn around #1. Once we discovered that the theatre was on the second floor, we took a ride in the (way too small) elevator to check out the space. It was lovely, and tiny. And it had a long, steep staircase that led from the street up to the theatre space that we could bring all those nice heavy set pieces up that were too big for the (did I mention way too small) elevator. I prayed as only an atheist could that we would end up doing a no set show, and somehow my prayers were answered. I guess I have to finally admit that sometimes, the fact our stage manager can't handle stress well comes in very handy. So there's turnaround #2.

As we were setting up, I started to realize that this day was turning out pretty damn well, considering what we had thought it was going to be. Now, I certainly wasn't doing backflips about the day, since we still had to do two shows and drive for a long time back to Delaware. True, the front end of the day wasn't going to be as big a pain in the ass, but we still had the back end...so to speak. The first show went amazingly well. The kids (not that there were many of them) were very engaged and reactive, so the show itself was a lot of fun to perform. The minute the show came down, we immediately went into reset mode, trying to put the show back together again for a second show that was slated to start within an hour AND scarf down whatever we had managed to bring for lunch, since we weren't going to have time for anything that resembled an actual meal until after the second show. As we started these preparations, Levitt came back and told us all to stop because they might be canceling the second show. Ye, you read that right, ladies and gentlemen, cancel the second show--the show that they had just ADDED three days ago. The show which was to start in 45 minutes. And guess what? They did. So all of a sudden, we were going to get on the road for Delaware at some time close to when we would normally get on the road. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact I had to wait with the truck while three school buses loaded the first audience right where I had to park to load out, we would've been on the road by 1:30/1:45 at the latest. As it was, we were out by 2:00, me driving the truck, raring to get to Delaware with enough time to enjoy not being in the truck. So there, ladies and germs, is turnaround #3. All in all, the day was going gangbusters. Add to that the fact Flo and I only made one very short stop in order to gas the truck up and therefore were making incredibly good time--a little under an hour away from Dover at 5:45--and you can see I was rethinking the entire day, and doing mental backflips.

I would like to bring the curtain down on our little play right here and let the audience leave this virtual theatre with a song in their heart and a smile on their face, secure in the knowledge that sometimes, things just go right in the world and good people get rewarded for letting their stage managers live. I would like to do that, but to do so would be hypocritical. Because didn't I say at the beginning of this post that I had learned a lesson about assumptions and how quickly they can be proven incorrect? Yes, I did. No, seriously. Look, scroll up to the very beginning and you'll see. Go on, I'll wait. See? It's okay, just try to pay more attention from here on out. Where was I? Oh right, hypocrisy. So since that is the lesson I am trying to impart, I must impart all aspects of it, including this last bit which, sadly, is nowhere near as enjoyable (for me, at least) but just as entertaining (for you, at least). As we were about to cross from Maryland into Delaware, we pulled into a weigh station, as we are required to do. I rolled onto the scale and waited to be waved through, as we always are. Ah, there's one of them assumptions. We were waved into the lot for an inspection. I was not originally worried about this, as it had happened before and as long as the driver's logs are up to date and the registration on the truck is in order, everything's usually fine and you get to pass. I got turnaround #4 when i saw the inspector who was going to do the honors. Blue cop fatigues, flip up sunglasses, and a crewcut which made one think of astroturf. I knew I was dealing with someone who wanted to be perceived as a hardass. BUT, all my paperwork was in order, so I was sure that as long as I didn't do anything like snort coke in front of him or tell him I was hauling a bunch of illegal Mexicans to find freedom as landscapers and busboys, I would be okay. Turnaround #5. If our truck had been a person, this guy just gave him a rectal examination with a billy club. He examined everything--even having me open the back of the truck so he could make sure I wasn't actually carrying those Mexicans. Thank goodness he missed the Al-Qaeda members huddled behind the wardrobes. But he even checked to make sure the latch n the strap holding our fire extinguisher in the truck cab really latched. AND it turns out that the way we've been filling out our log books is wrong. Or, not wrong, but not doing us any favors. I was informed that I was in violation of our 60 hour clock rule. I replied that I was not aware that I was in violation of the 60 hour clock rule because I was no way aware OF a 60 hour clock rule. Apparently, we are only allowed to accumulate 60 hours of on duty time per seven day period. This on duty time includes driving to the venue in the morning, performing, and driving to the next hotel, be it in the van or the truck. So the entire cast accumulates the same amount of on duty hours, regardless of whether they drive the truck. But driving the truck after you have logged more than 60 hours means you are in violation, and can be fined (In Maryland) a minimum of $280 and forced to not drive OR RIDE in the truck for 10 consecutive hours. And this guy would've made me find a hotel and crash, even though Flo could've driven the last half hour to 45 minutes. While this is going on, I am agog at the fact that somehow something like this has been left out of our trucking education. But, I figure it's not necessarily Levitt's fault since she only passes on what the office passes on to her. He tells me that since I am unaware of the rule that MIGHT get me a break. He then proceeds to have me check all my lights. He does this by standing in front of the truck and shooting me hand signals which, I swear to god, look like he wants me to steal second. I have no idea what he's asking me to do, as he is merely lifting his hand up in the air. I discover this is the universal signal for high beams. Checking the directionals I get, and then he holds up four fingers. Flo, getting into the spirit of the game, guess four way flashers. She is right, and takes a commanding lead due to difficulty of program. He then lifts his leg. Neither one of us gets this, and to be honest, I have completely forgotten what it was. He then goes to the back and commences to insist I bunt, hit away, and enter a slalom race. I am aghast at what I am having to go through with this yutz. Then he disappears into his little I can't be a real cop because I'm too fascist even for the state troopers so they stuck me here to screw with truckers house and I wait to find out y fate. I have determined that Chamber will pay any fine I receive since they are the reason I am here. I have everything filled out as they told me, thus any fine incurred is their responsibility. Yeah, take THAT Spring Sirkin!

It turns out that, after being summoned to the guard shack, I am to be given a warning and let go. There are a couple of repairs to be made to the truck and he explains to me how to make sure I'm keeping track of my 60 hours, then turns me loose with a "have a good day and break a leg." Oh yeah, I love weigh station cops. The rest of the ride was uneventful, and we ended up getting there about 15 minutes behind the van, so the hour--yes, gentle readers, the HOUR we spent in the weight station actually did us a favor. But there you have it, just when the turnarounds were making me believe things were going to be great, WHAM! Now it could've been worse, I know, and I appreciate the fact that he let me go with a warning. Of course, I had to talk to Levitt about it and be told that she had informed us all about the 60 hour rule on several occasions, at which time I called bullshit and told her to her face that she never told us, which she didn't. She put it off what she called "talking about this hourly thing we have to do on the driver's logs" from our first meeting about the driver's logs to the next, and never brought it up at the next one. When I reminded her of this--in her hotel room, in front of her roommate, Flo, who also remembers NOT being told about it (And after taking a poll of the rest of the cast the subject is unanimously agreed on)--she gets all sullen and defensive and ends the conversation. It's nuts since I wasn't attacking her--I just had said we didn't know, meaning the office hadn't informed her to inform us--and she jumps right to getting defensive and snarky. She makes my butt itch.

So there you have it. Oh, and here's the icing o the cake. I was going to head to NY this coming Monday to audition for the national tour of the 39 Steps, because we had a show canceled that day, and we would be nearby. Well, it turns out that won't be happening. Why? Not because they booked a show, oh no. Because instead, Spring wants us all to come into Boston that morning at 11 and read for her the new script they have at Chamber--for a math show. Yes, a math show. Great moments in Math History or something. It'll take two hours, tops. And the audition runs from 10-6. But I was going to have to be there really early to try to sign up to be seen as a non-equity actor, so the whole thing is pretty much a wash. I'm sending my H/R in, but let's face it, there's no chance now. Whatever. The hilarious thing is, this is the only time in either tour that I wanted/needed time to go do something for my freaking career, and it got screwed over by a dumbass math show. Just proof positive that the last thing we need is more math. Vote for Pond in 2012--He won't let Math Divide the Country....