Getting into the routine

Day 28: Thursday, March 16

Seeing as how I didn't have a matinee to either see or do, I chose to make it a lazy, if productive, day, catching up on this here blog.

There was really not too much to report from the morning and afternoon, other than finding that some of the bagels Pidge bought last week had started to show signs of mold. (I sliced off the offending areas and put everything in the refrigerator. It’s amazing. We were greeted with an empty fridge—other than a bottle of opening-night champagne [which we have yet to open]—and have filled it pretty much to bursting. I just hope we can get through it all before we leave.)

Being that it was—in comparison to recent days—nice weather, I decided to walk to the theatre. It was still chilly (mid-30s), but not as frigid as the beginning of the week. Today, in fact, it’s actually up to the high 40s-low 50s; so much so that I have the window open. That will doubtless change once Pidge gets back from brunch … This will all change soon enough, though, since we’re due for freezing rain tonight and more snow Saturday (possibly as much as 3”). As long-time readers will note, I was hoping for snow; just not as much as we got—and, even then, it’s not the amount; it’s the leftovers.

Speaking of those leftovers, as noted yesterday, the East Side is a little better-groomed in terms of piles of snow, but for every intersection with a clear path, there is an equal number of “anybody’s guess where to walk” corners. Usually, there’s a small path cleared, big enough for one person to walk safely, so it becomes a matter of figuring out who’s going to get the right-of-way, and it behooves everyone to get out of the way as quickly and efficiently as possible. Some folks seem to have trouble with this concept (such as you, woman with the double-wide stroller), but, for the most part, it works. (This principle also applies to pedestrians, particularly in midtown and the Theatre District. My rule of thumb has become that the people who walk the slowest will [deliberately?] take up the most room, and the people who take up the most room tend to walk the slowest. Seriously, people; if you’re three or four abreast, either break it up or speed up. Dammit.)

Anyway, the walk uptown was reasonably pleasant; Park Avenue is nice enough, even if there is a bit of a hill, and the Starbucks at 42^nd and Park is quite nice and quick with my mobile orders (and they’ve switched to pastel Spring cups). It’s supposed to be about 1:04 to walk there, but it took a little longer than usual, so I arrived at the theatre well after 5:00.
I was greeted by the cast of the show next door, doing its final tech in preparation for their preview. Suffice it to say that they’re young and enthusiastic, which means they spent a lot of time “warming up” in the hallway, shouting at each other, and singing. Just what I need to help me prep for my own show. I was willing to let it go, since they seem nice and I don’t expect it to happen now that they’re “open” (whatever that means at 59E59).

Speaking of “open,” now that the press embargo’s been lifted, we’re starting to get reviews. Most of them have been good, if not glowing, but that’s the game. I did enjoy the one that called me “boyish” with “all-American” looks, because if there’s anything I am, it’s old and a tribute to my Bohunk forebears.

When Brendan arrived (and while Beth was making our “wine” [very watery decaffeinated Earl Grey tea with red and blue food coloring; Brendan requested we not use juice since he drinks so much of it—three wine bottles, more or less—and wanted to avoid diabetes]), we discussed what we’d seen. There’s generally a rule about not discussing reviews when in the theatre, but we came to a mutual agreement that we really don’t care—and, as I said, they’ve been good enough that discussing them isn’t painful.

We ran Scene 5, and made some discoveries (all of which, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to translate to the performance; that process continues … ), ran Scene 6 (which is pretty much a must), then dressed and got ready to go on. The pre-show ritual of him pacing and me standing with my forehead against the wall continued.

When we went on, it was a pretty good show, I thought. The indicator for me (in terms of audience reaction) is his entrance. (We start with me alone on stage.) If they laugh, they’re going to be a responsive crowd. If they don’t, they won’t be; they’ve been attentive and appreciative; they just don’t laugh a lot. I flubbed some lines in Scene 1 (I’ll be paying attention to that when I get to the theatre tonight) and had some oddities in 5 (trying some of the stuff I’d found in the dressing room), but as I say, it was good overall.

I was going to meet Pidge at Junior’s after the show, so I was all bundled up. When I came down the stairs, though, I was greeted by two patrons (I assume a mother and son) who couldn’t have been more enthusiastic. They were sorry they’d missed Brendan, but they asked for my autograph (there’s a first), and just wanted to talk about the play. Even though I had an appointment, I was happy to chat and genuinely touched that they’d stayed (they were going to listen to the jazz combo that plays in the theatre bar after the evening performances).

I headed out to go to Midtown, doing what I could to avoid the demonic corner of 57^th and Fifth, so I walked down Madison. I was surprised to see that, in addition to 57^th being blocked off (traffic has to pass through a police checkpoint), the cops were putting up barriers at 56^th and 55^th. It dawned on me this morning that it was all probably in anticipation of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Fifth.

I continued downtown, mixing streets and avenues until I came to 47^th, right in front of the Cort Theatre. I stepped on what I thought was a safe spot, but hit ice, and did some of the most acrobatic moves I’ve ever pulled off in order to remain upright. It was odd in that I was falling, but realized I was never going to hit the ground. I pulled out of the spin with no ill effects and passed a guy (whom I hoped was duly impressed by my feats of equilibrium) and made it to the restaurant.

What I just said about sidewalks applies especially to Junior’s—especially post-theatre. People don’t seem to realize that its foyer can hold only so many people; they just go through the revolving door and stop, thinking that no one is behind them and that there will be room for any party, no matter now large. (Seriously. A group of 15-20 high school kids marched in and marched out seconds later, once they realized they wouldn’t be seated immediately. Is there a more unwelcome sight than a group of high school theatre students in the Times Square area? If there is, I can’t imagine what it would be.) I went in, fought my way to the desk, gave my name, was told it’d be 25-30 minutes, and I went right back outside. Even if there had been room, it was too damn crowded.

Pidge showed up (she’d seen The Great Comet), and we stood and chatted. After a while, she had to use the restroom, so she fought her way in, then waited for our name to be called. Once it was, I had to fight tooth and nail to get through the crowd, every member of which was determined to hold the ground it had pioneered. Eventually, I made it, saw Pidge (who was already at the table), and sat.

We ate, looked out at Shubert Alley and I noticed that there was a small group waiting for Better Midler to leave Hello, Dolly. It was late—nearly 11:00—so I was surprised she was still there, but it was their second preview (I read later that they’d had to stop the show because of a medical emergency) and she may have been getting notes. I was further surprised to see her car had California license plates. I don’t know why I mention that, but I do.

We walked to the subway, got a train reasonably quickly, then transferred at Union Square, walked home, and that was that.