The End

 So, I chickened out.

I’m currently writing from 10,000 feet on a Baltimore-bound Southwest Airlines flight, the first of two I’ll be on today as I make my way back to New York City.  The rest of the company is cruising out of Ohio (no doubt at supersonic speeds), on their way back to the good old 108^th St Garage.

Our final performance was great: a nice group of Chicago kids who were happy to see the show gave us the strength to put our sleepiness behind us and put out a solid performance.  I try not to put too much importance on “closing shows;” I just did what I could in order to enjoy my final chance to play with the wonderful cast I’ve had the chance to work with.  Afterwards, there were high fives and congratulations.  We loaded out and drove nearly six hours to Ohio, our first leg of the long drive home. 

This morning, we awoke to find that the van wouldn’t start.  Our starter battery had been having trouble already (I forgot to mention the jump we got in Ann Arbor after our first show there), but today’s rough start felt like a blow. Still tired from the overnight drive from Ann Arbor to Chicagoland, and with my body clock refusing to adjust to normal time once again, my exhaustion level had reached its max.  David got the car towed, charged it in a big rig and, by 11:00am, we were on the road once again.  As we tumbled into the van, my heart flew up into my throat.  With almost five tours under my belt, I am more than accustomed to long hauls, but this felt different.  Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe the cold or maybe the stress from earlier in the morning had gotten to be too much. Whatever it was, my body jumped into a full-blown panic attack, and refused to calm down, despite all attempts to coax it into a relaxed state for nearly a half hour.  I knew that 10 hours of me shaking, squirming, twitching and on the brink of tears was not going to be good for any of us, so I asked David and the cast to drop me at the airport.  I hurried to the Southwest counter, got a price I could deal with, threw down my credit card and headed through security.

This is not the way I wanted to end this tour.  The triumphant return to the garage is something I always look forward to, with the big goodbye and the hugs and the genuine celebration of a tour that, no matter what, has given us memories we will never forget.  It truly pains me that I won’t be there to see the end of what has been an amazing adventure, with a group of people who, even in our darkest moments, I love like a family.  I already miss Courtney’s quirky humor, David’s ready smile, Nic’s wit, Matt’s Jersey pride and Kristen’s many voices, and the idea that I’ll wake up tomorrow in my own bed, without David’s daily “good morning” or a continental breakfast waiting for me in the lobby (always of varying quality, but still) seems incredibly foreign.  Touring is its own world, with its glories and its challenges, and dropping back into New York City is always a major change.

Theatreworks has been incredibly good to me: I’ve made my living over the last three years almost exclusively on Theatreworks contract and, thanks to their contributions to Equity’s insurance plan, I have health coverage until the middle of 2012.  And I also credit them with a lot of my growth as an actor and a person.  Many of my dearest friends in New York are fellow Theatreworks alumni, and most of my professional contacts have been netted from hours spent rehearsing in Chelsea Studios.  And, living in a van, traveling every day and negotiating life with an unchanging group of six or seven people has also offered me a chance to develop the confidence, diplomacy and self-sufficiency needed to be a fully functioning “adult.”  I guess it could be said that I’ve “grown up on the road,” and I’m beyond proud to call myself an alumnus.

All that said, it’s time for a little break.  I am regularly amused that I call myself a New Yorker, yet, in the last year, I have spent a total of 9 weeks actually living and working in New York City.  I have people that need to be seen, an apartment that needs cleaned (badly) and new, exciting opportunities that are out there, waiting for me to seize.  And, while I’m looking forward to seeing friends, hitting audition season hard (watch out for “Ethan 2.0”) and finally giving myself the time to enjoy New York City, a small part of me will still miss the daily adventure of donning the furry green monster suit, diving onto that stage, and belting my heart out onstage with a group of talented actors for the children of America.  We made some magic out there on the road, and that is something I will always remember.

The Drive

Ask any of the Fancy Ducks about "The Drive," and we'll know what you're talking about.  And we'll probably start either laughing hysterically, or sobbing.

Leaving the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor, we knew it was going to be tight.  Google listed the drive to Matteson, IL at about four and a half hours, so, with appropriate breaks, we were looking at getting in pretty late by Theatreworks standards: around 9 or 10.  Not impossible by any means, but it was cutting into our 12-hour rest period, which meant a nice little extra in our future paychecks.  However, a major snowstorm had just dumped almost two feet of snow in Minnesota and Wisconsin (collapsing the Metrodome in Minneapolis and shutting down school for the first time since I was in 6th grade), and it didn't seem to be letting up.  David checked weather reports and, while the snow seemed to be letting up (Ann Arbor was just a little overcast), the wind and cold were not.  We crammed into the van, bounced back onto I-94 W, and hoped for the best.

About two hours into the drive, immediately after we took a bathroom break, traffic ground to a halt.  David surfed radio channels for information while those of us with smartphones Googled around for anything we could find.  Nothing.  No information anywhere about what lay ahead.  And, outside, it looked like this:

(photo credit: Kristen)

After over an hour at a standstill, David called Theatreworks.  Since our venue the next day was a show sponsored by them, we wanted to find out if the show was indeed going forward.  You see, with conditions deteriorating, the road closed (apparently) and no information on when things would recover, it seemed like we were in for quite a haul.  Getting in touch with Teresa, our Company Manager, we learned that things were looking good for the show, so it was best to press on.  Whenever the conditions would allow.

After two hours stuck in traffic, the road opened, we zoomed forward (smelling gasoline residue while trying not to think about how it got there) and, realizing that it was now past 8pm on a Sunday, decided it was worth getting our dinner now.  The exit we tried promised a Panera, a favorite among most Theatreworks folks I've met.  We giddily headed there to fill up on food and caffeine.

But the evening had other plans.  The Panera closed at 8:00.  It was 8:07.

We searched and searched for something that would be open, settling for a Subway, KFC, Walgreens run.  Then it was back in the van, and off into the fray.

Winter driving is an acquired skill, and luckily we've got a few experienced drivers among us.  David started us off with stalled traffic and winter conditions that kept us below 40 mph on the freeway.  I took over afterwards and battled glare ice and huge wind gusts as we headed towards Benton Harbor, MI, the site of previous misadventure.  I threw on some loud dance music and, as the clock ticked towards midnight, Courtney turned into my personal life coach, offering me encouragement and support as I navigated the slippery, windy highways.  Suddenly, it was midnight, and break time, and Benton Harbor's Wal-mart seemed to be our best option.  I mean, Wal-mart's are open 24 hours, have clean bathrooms and caffeinated beverages.  I slowly pulled us off the freeway and headed towards the parking lot.  We grabbed our hats, dove head first into the wind, making a break for the Wal-mart doors.

They were all locked.

A nearby Meijer provided some relief, but the prior two hours were all my nerves could handle, so Kristen took over.  The ice and snow was gone, but the winds had picked up, limiting visibility as strong gusts blew powdery snow into our path.  Kristen is an incredibly good driver under pressure, and we were all getting a little giddy from the mounting lack of sleep, so we began a round of Mad Libs and guessing games to keep everyone occupied.  By this time, we had been traveling for over eight hours.

Matt finished our epic drive, carefully navigating us the rest of the way to Matteson.  When we arrived, it was 3:50am local time (remember, there's a time change in there), which meant we had been traveling for over 12 hours.  With a call at 7:45am, there was just enough time to check into the hotel and grab two or three hours of sleep. The children still needed their show.

I have never done a performance on three hours of sleep before.  It is almost an out-of-body experience.  Your brain hits a point where, if you engage it too much, it will try to trip you up, so all you can do is sit back and watch your body carry you through the show.  All the right words, moves and music came out (and the sound cues were in the right places), but I'm not sure any of us were aware how this feat was accomplished.  It was interesting for me, however, that, even in this state of extreme exhaustion, the show's intrinsic fun and energy still seemed to take hold of me.  It just seemed very, very far away.

As we grasped hands for curtain call (Kristen gave me an extra "We did it!" squeeze), something strange happened.  The audience -- all 125 strong -- jumped to their feat, cheering and whistling. With my head still spinning, it took me a few minutes to realize what was going on.  Our audience had just given us a standing ovation; the first of our entire, three month tour.  In my state of exhaustion-induced euphoria, it was hard to fully accept the full import of the moment but, looking back, it seems all to fitting.  Without any knowledge of their actions, this audience gave us the will to make it through what was easily the most difficult performance I have ever been called upon to complete.  But complete it we did.  Apparently, with style.

Call tomorrow: 7:45am, Super 8, River Grove, IL.  It's time to close this show.

Kid Quote of the Day: At one point in "Pirates Don't Change Diapers," my pirate faints dead away.  As I crashed down behind the flat, a little boy winced: "Ouchie.  He got a boo-boo."

Adult Quote of the Day: At around 2am, somewhere in Indiana, Courtney turned to me.  "Ethan," she said, "this is going to make a really good blog entry."

Michigan Rivals, part 2: Maize and Blue, and Bed Bugs

So, before I launch into Ann Arbor proper, it's worth a mention that we left our mark at the McComb Community College, with their incredible ceiling tile signature collection:

Ann Arbor was like the Holy Grail, for our company, at least.  Within the first few days of rehearsal, a few of us who had been Googling our intended route started seeing Ann Arbor listed twice.  Not only was the prospect of a sit-down-ish situation extremely appealing, but both Jonathan and David were both excited to return to their alma mater, and to show us around.  “We’re gonna show you a good time in Ann Arbor,” Jonathan winked at us early on.

We hustled into our hotel, excited for what this college town would hold for us.  The place looked great, had dinner provided four days a week in the lobby, and was near a Whole Foods, which earned it major points from Kristen and Courtney.  We all went to our room, flipped open our computers, and discovered that, oops, the hotel had somehow lost its Internet.  A call down to the front desk revealed that the ‘net was to be down for nine days.  Strike one.  At least there was free food.

We found ourselves with two days off before our “two-shows-in-three-days” schedule, and we took full advantage of them.  A few of us even trekked to nearby Jackson to see the cast of Theatreworks/USA’s A Christmas Carol in action, and get a taste of the Theatreworks experience from the other side of the proscenium.  Ann Arbor is a classic college down, with wonderful little shops, great restaurants, incredible coffee houses and more bookstores than you can visit in two days.  David, who disappeared for most of our days off, visiting friends and catching the record-breaking Michigan/MSU hockey game on Saturday, gave us a list of great places to eat and hang out, but we mostly found a food spot and planted.  I strolled over and explored the famous Zingerman’s deli (where I had an amazing pastrami sandwich, so large that I had to eat it over two days), found a table at Espresso Royale and blogged my heart out (you may have noticed the rapid posting), browsed more bookstores than I can remember, worked on some material in preparation for my return to New York (there is life after Theatreworks) and generally laid low.

The next day, I woke up covered in strange, itchy bites.  As a New York City resident, I have met the scourge of bedbugs more than once, but I was unwilling to believe that this charming college town would harbor the parasites that have driven me crazy on a few occasions.  David watched as I tore apart my bed.  Finding no spots or other signs, I figured I was safe.  Must have been a bad reaction at the detergent.

We loaded our set into the Michigan Theater (where David worked as an IATSE member after college), with the help of one of the most eager and helpful crew’s we’ve had.  Our school day performance went well, and then our crew helped us strike the set into the far reaches of the theatre; it appeared that the orchestra had a performance that night, and didn’t want storybooks as their backup.  I understood.

That night, back at the hotel and still itchy, I pulled the headboard off of the wall to discover that my suspicions were right.  There were indeed bedbugs in room, a collection of about 10.  The front desk quickly moved me to a bug-free room and off I went to the Laundromat to dry every article of clothing with me on tour.  Sadly, experience with these buggers has taught me to be extra vigilant, particularly when you’re on the move.

The next morning, after David and I had a hearty breakfast at a local diner, the crew assembled to speak to the hotel about our predicament.  They kindly offered to comp us some rooms in exchange for our pains, at which point Matt piped up.  “Um, wait, are these bedbug bites?” he asked, pointing to raised bumps on his hand that he had been vigorously scratching.  A quick check of his headboard revealed another colony, and the gents were moving rooms as fast as they could.  For insects so tiny, they really are a nuisance.

Up and at ‘em for our last public performance of the tour, we arrived at the Michigan Theater to discover that the crew had already put the vast majority of our set up!  David had allowed us some extra time to finish this process, so we took a leisurely hour to prepare, listened to the live organ player pump out everything from “White Christmas” to the Star Wars theme, readied ourselves and ran the show once again, to a nearly-full, thoroughly excited audience.

Now, I’m finishing this blog entry before a 4:30pm van call outside the theater, as we head back to Chicagoland once again.  Two more shows, and then we head home.  It’s truly hard to believe.

Call tomorrow: 7:45am, La Quinta, Matteson, IL.

Kid Quote of the Day: During Leonardo today, when I blew raspberries at the kids to try and scare them, some little tyke blew them back at me.

Adult Quote of the Day: After the report of bedbugs, our hotel manager casually kvetched, “Damn New Yorkers, bringing bedbugs to my hotel!”  He then got very quiet once he noticed the addresses on our accounts.

Michigan Rivals, part 1: Spartans and Sit-downs

Michigan was our treat.  After all of our back-and-forth traveling, we were finally staying in one state for a while!  First, we had a sit down in East Lansing of four days (three had shows) at the enormous Wharton Center for the Arts on the campus of Michigan State University.  David, our resident college football fan and proud graduate of the University of Michigan (whose fans refer to MSU as their "little brother") insisted on wearing his Maize and Blue to load-in.  However, even with rivals showing their true colors this early on, we were all thankful for the Spartan hospitality, as our crew raced our set inside from the freezing cold and onto the stage with gusto.

The Wharton Center provided us with a few interesting challenges.  The big one?  A huge thrust stage.  Now, we'd performed on a "mini-thrust" (more of an extended apron) before at a school in West Virginia.  And our experience there certainly helped.   However, it takes a lot of mental readjustment when you set up the set and your stage looks like this:

Lots of real estate to play.  And so, with some general tape marks and a few "don't go past here" pointers from the crew, we prepared for our first of six shows.

A change like this puts everybody's brain into overdrive.  Not only do you become hyper-aware of sight lines and spacing, you also realize that you have much more space to cover than usual, and that the typical cardiovascular workout that the show can be has been thrown into overdrive.  And, because of all this, the show took on a nice new life.  It was fresh and fun, if a little disorienting, and the kids gobbled it up, which is often just as satisfying for us.

Post-shows, we shifted our set around so it would fit behind the main curtain.  Why?  Our sponsors, the Michigan State University Federal Credit Union Institute for Arts and Creativity (say that three times fast!), was also producing a staged-reading of Nickle and Dimed in the evening, which Matt, Courtney and I caught.

Having a semi-Michigan native in David, we managed to get ourselves invited to a production of Greater Tuna at the local Williamston Theater.  David is good friends with the artistic director and one of the leading players, so we spent a night at the theater (!) laughing at some outstanding performance.  I am always happy to be reminded of the incredible quality of theater that exists outside of the "meccas" of New York and Chicago, and this proved to be no exception.  Afterward, the two actors came out to say hello, and we briefly traded backstage tales and a few Equity jokes.  Wayne David Parker, whose other credits include Escanaba in da Moonlight and more plays and movies than I can count, wisely reminded us how great it is to be working.  Sage advice, coming for someone at the top of his game who has clearly seen a lot.

The next day brought two more shows and, for the first time on this tour, a chance to show up, perform and leave, all without building or breaking down the set.  Besides being more rested than any of us have ever been for a 9:45am show, it was a nice glimpse of the more-typical theater experience for actors, one I haven't seen too much of since graduating from college.  The one-off nature of Theatreworks shows often means that "normalcy" is found solely in the routines of putting up the set and doing the physical actions of the show.  Now, with a single hotel and a consistent space, we had the mental room to play.  And, with shows done by 2pm and no need to travel, we also got to ground ourselves a little in the Lansing and East Lansing area: Courtney found solace in the all-weather farmer's market across the street from our hotel; David visited friend and old haunts; Matt explored the "campus downtown" area; and Nic and Kristen convinced me to take a kickboxing class with them at a nearby gym.  My abs have yet to recover.

A day off followed (where Matt saw a movie, I got a haircut and everybody slept; it is getting to be that time of the tour where a "day off" means a day OFF) and then we were back for Sunday afternoon public shows, a lightening fast load-out and we were off to the Detroit suburbs, headed to the shrine of Maize and Blue.  Tour keeps chugging along.

Call tomorrow: 8am, Red Roof Inn, Southfield, MI.

Kid Quote of the Day: At the end of the show, we point out and the audience and encourage the kids to "turn a page."  Kristen, as Babymouse, pointed to a boy and girl on her side of the audience.  They seemed a little confused about which one was receiving attention, so Kristen made a point of waving to both as she left.  As she was exiting, she heard the little girl taunt, "Babymouse LIKES you!!"

Adult Quote of the Day: I thanked our TD as we were leaving for all his help (they were a great crew!) and he told me to "try not to have too much fun in that town with those people we don't like," as he glanced over at David, dressed from head to toe in University of Michigan gear.

Sometimes, Life is Hard

I've met a ton of wonderful people while on tour, and many of them seem to be slightly charmed when I explain what I do. "Oh," they say in their delightful Midwestern accents, "you do a musical for children? That's so nice. It must be so much fun!" And, while I hope this blog usually reflects the fun and adventure that comes with touring, there are days when you wake up, roll out of bed, meet your company members in the hotel lobby, look at each other and say, "Life is hard today."

There's not always a particular reason why a certain day is hard. Occasionally, you can peg it on an early call, or a string of days off that have taken your body out of the Theatreworks touring rhythm. But, usually, it comes about as part of some mysterious "group think," when the constant travel and energy required by the show catches up with everyone, all at once.

Admittedly, I love it when "life is hard." Sure, load-in feels like a haul and folks can be a little testy, but the fact that people are feeling a little off-kilter often brings a new and interesting energy to the show. Since, at the end of the day, this tour is "a job," we, as employees, run the risk of falling into the trap of feeling like it is "a job," where we perform a rather repetitive task day in and day out, comfortable in the routines and following our "track" (for you non-theater folk out there, that's the theater-speak term for "part," and somewhat fitting for today's post) blankly. And, when you're "not feeling it," the only way to reconnect with the material and bring that fresh, live performance we are expected to produce is to reengage with the show in a new way. And that often means you give one of your best performance.

Our performance at Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry is a good example. Loading in, and up, two floors on a freight elevator and down a ramp was a chilly and strenuous beginning to the day. Nobody really spoke to each other as we built the set, placed our costumes, checked the sound and began our pre-show routines. There were the obligatory “good shows” and “have fun out theres” while waiting in the wings, but I could feel from everyone (myself included) a sense that this was going to be a labored show. Music started, we headed out onstage and it began. And, slowly but surely, everyone started coming to life.

First, Nic’s “Good morning livestock!” at the top of “Duck for President” came with such gusto that it was hard not to latch onto his energy. Then, Courtney, as Chicken, started doing a full-out Macarena as we wheeled her offstage. Matt started hitting his key words in new, and fun, ways during his campaign speech and Kristen “raised the roof” like nobody’s business once Duck became president. The energy was infectious! The fun was back! We were all working our butts off to stay focused and keep the show fresh, but it was working. The show wasn’t easy – everyone was already drenched in sweat and panting – but it was there, and that’s what mattered.

After breaking down, we spent some time exploring the museum (I rode the coal mine experience, a “ride” I made my dad take me on three consecutive times when I was 6) and the headed back out into the cold to load out our set. Traffic out of Chicago was heavy as we headed to our still-sorta-under-construction Econolodge in Kalamazoo, MI. Everyone was still feeling the weight of the day, until Courtney (seated in her front-center seat) perked up: “Hey guys, check it out! Our hotel is on Easy Street!” It must have been a sign. After a “life is hard” day, we’re sleeping on Easy Street.

(However, a martini with dinner also helps)

Call tomorrow: 8am, Econolodge, Kalamazoo, MI. Snow is in the forecast.

Kid Quote of the Day: During Fancy Nancy, the appearance of the "parfaits" brought a chorus of "Ice Creams!" from the audience-right section of the house. However, when they came crashing down on her, another chorus emerged: "They're not real!"

Adult Quote of the Day: (This one is a little PG) The front-middle seat and front-passenger seats have buckles in the same spot. The new cheer for when both people go to buckle up at the same time? "Hand orgy!!"

We're Kind of A Big Deal

Yeah, when you see things like this in the local bookstore in Traverse City, MI, you can generally tell that the shows are going to be good.

And they were.  I'm trilled to say that our two shows at the Traverse City Opera Houses were filled with some of the best and most responsive crowds we've had on this tour.  Between the girls with their collection of a dozen-plus Fancy Nancy books, the pile of Babymouse books that landed in front of Kristen at our post-show book signing, the extraordinary lunch provided by our sponsors and the local yoga teacher who brought her kids to see "her newest students" (Kristen and I), it was one of those weekends of performances that makes you feel like a superstar.  Plus, Traverse City is a wonderful little town, with more than enough bookstores, gift-y shops, restaurants and coffee bars to occupy our motley crew of theatrical types for a few days.  It was a charming vacation, a wholly different experience from staying with the family, but still one of the charming varietals of touring life that keeps everybody fresh and alive.

And a good thing too, because we've got another long drive back to Chicago again.  This will be our sixth time in/near/passing by the Windy City.  Apparently, Chicagoland loves their Fancy Ducks!

Call tomorrow: 10:00am, Days Inn, Traverse City, MI.  It's off to Chicago we go!!

Kid Quote of the Day: When the tray of ice cream crashed to the ground during "Fancy Nancy" and covered Courtney in fake ice cream globes, a little girl shrieked and covered her eyes in terror, only to split her fingers moments after to see what would happen next.  The girl behind her, however, burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably for the rest of the story.

Adult Quote of the Day: I was spotted taking pictures of the bookstore paraphernalia by one of the managers.  His response?  "You must be an actor."

O'Shaughnessy

(Note to readers to whom I’m not related: this one gets sappy, and rather Minnesota specific.  If that’s not your cup of tea, feel free to skip it.)

O’Shaughnessy Auditorium is an important performing arts venue in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area.  Sure, it doesn’t really have the historic value that the State, Orpheum or Pantages do in Downtown Minneapolis, or the producing power of the Ordway in St. Paul, or even the state sponsorship of Northrop Auditorium at the University of Minnesota.  But it’s a big, boxy (on the outside), purple (on the inside) theater that houses dance, music, spoken word, performance and the occasional play.  And, apparently, Theatreworks tours.

As we drove up in the van (and, mind you, it’s extremely odd to drive around your hometown in a Theatreworks Sprinter van, surrounded by NYC-based friends), it all came flooding back: the dozens of Zenon Dance Company performances I’d seen there, Christopher Watson Dance and their genre-bending shows, Ragamala Music and Dance Theater, the school trips to see visiting arts groups (perhaps Theatreworks?), the international musical troupes… it was odd how after nearly a decade away from the space, I still recognized its very specific, extremely clean smell.

We loaded in, with our helpful crew (who chided us relentlessly for our gloves, hats, scarves and coats; it was 12° and windy) and I marveled once again at how huge the stage is.  Staring at those purple seats, I saw a nine year-old Ethan mesmerized as his Modern teacher John Munger slowly spun across the stage in a tattered sweater at a Zenon Winter Show.  Glancing into the wings, there was Carol Huncik, who trusted me enough to put a piece of choreography I developed as a teenager into a Choreographer’s Evening at the Walker Arts Center, giving me a clandestine wave before her big entrance in her first solo concert, lo these many years ago.  I strode downstairs to the dressing room and saw James Sewell, straightjacket and magic cane in hand, stretching on a barre while the Theatre de la Jeune Lune crew, now disbanded, did their extensive physical and vocal warm-ups in the nearby greenroom.

As David made his announcement and the lights faded, I peeked out from behind my flat and saw more faces: real faces this time.  The folks had assembled a group of a dozen friends – everyone from old babysitters, family friends and neighbors to one of my prom dates, my dad’s coworker and my mom’s tennis partner – and they were sitting front row, stage left. The music started, and Matt and I wheeled our way onstage.  The rest is a bit of a blur.

I still get nervous performing in front of my parents, probably because it happens so rarely.  But, for whatever reason, this show wasn’t nearly as bad.  Maybe because of the material, maybe because of the cast, but probably because my mind was focused on the odd importance that this performance was taking on in my mind.  It felt strangely full-circle, as a bunch of squealing little kids took my old place in the auditorium and I, somewhat older and wiser, took my mentors’ places onstage and off.

Post show, I said hello to my assembled fans (another first: I’ve never had an “entourage” before!) and struck the set with the cast.  My parents got a chance to see a little bit of load out and, after peeking inside the van’s seating compartment, I am sure they now think I’m moderately insane.  The rest of the company fled to the Mall of America after the show, since it’s one of those things you should do when in Minnesota, and I went to lunch with my parents.  At lunch, Mom just couldn’t help herself, “How cool is it that you were up there on the O’Shaughnessy stage?!”  And I couldn’t help but agree.  For all the odd stages and ice-covered stairs and weeks of repeated time zone changes, it’s the days like this that keep bringing me back.

Call tomorrow: 9am, Days Inn, Traverse City, MI.  Showtime once again!

Kid Quote of the Day: Without fail, every single time anybody said the word “pee,” the entire audience shouted “Eww.”

Adult Quote of the Day: One of the crew members, as I stood there looking like Randy from A Christmas Story: “Yeah, you’re in Minnesota now.”

Fakesgiving

It seems a tradition on Theatreworks shows that, at some point, you stay at a company member's home.  In the productions I've been connected with (except A Christmas Carol, but that one is pretty quick), this has definitely been the trend.  And, with the Fancy Ducks headed to the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, it was my turn.  The folks readily agreed to put us all up (somehow procuring the appropriate number of mattresses; I'm not sure how), and fix us a feast of epic proportions.  What we have termed "Fakesgiving."

You see, our schedule had us traveling to Traverse City, MI, on the final Thursday of November and everyone agreed that, after six hours in the van, nobody would be feeling up for a big turkey dinner.  Plus, despite the artsy/funky factor of Traverse City, finding a place serving vegan fare along with meat on Thanksgiving proved tricky.  Enter Mom and Dad Angelica.  When I finally confirmed with them that the company would be crashing at their abode, Mom gleefully asked, "Do you want us to make Thanksgiving dinner?"  I have never, ever heard a Theatreworks company decline free food, so, with a resounding yes, the plans were set.  My sister was a vegan for years, so Mom and Dad were savvy to the Tofurkey and Earth Balance routine.  Plus, Nic (our resident Doctor Dolittle) just about died when I mentioned that we would be joined by a Golden Retriever and two cats.  So all was set.

Kristen dives into her vegan cobbler with gusto!

Mom Angelica serves up pie

Good homestyle eatin'

Our true hostess (Kugel, the Golden Retriever) is camera shy.

After weeks of diners, fast food joints and meals assembled at grocery stores, a family-style, home-cooked meal, around a table, with a dog begging for leftovers was precisely what we needed.  It provided a momentary feeling of home (more so for me, but I've heard reports from others of the same).  Plus, Mom and Dad Angelica were eager to hear all of our tour tales live, and so, with numerous voices and some minor staging, we "performed" the the last two months of our lives for an eager audience.

On a personal level, this was particularly special for me because, in five Theatreworks stints, this is the first time I've been close enough to introduce my parents to the people I spend my days with.  Both caught Click Clack Moo when they happened to be out east for work, but they each came for the performance, gave me a hug and left.  Now, with a Sprinter parked on the street and six Equity members in the house, they were getting the full experience and, from what I could see, thoroughly enjoying it.  The touring life is a strange beast, and the best way to explain it is really to spend a day or evening in our shoes.  Thanks, Mom and Dad, for putting us up, and putting up with us!

(P.S.  Why "Fakesgiving"?  Nic and Kristen coined it.  It stands for "Fake Thanksgiving" and is to be celebrated the Tuesday prior to the real day.  It involves much eating.  Mark your calendars!)

Call tomorrow: 9:30am, La Quinta, somewhere in Indiana.  We're headed to Traverse City.

Kid Quote of the Day: When the Duck was announced as the new farmer in "Duck for President," a little boy gasped, "WOW!"

Adult Quote of the Day: Continuing with our fruit theme, Matt gave us more details on his appreciation for it: "I love fruits, but I hate it when it's messy and juices goes everywhere."

Ice and Snow

Despite over six years in New York City, I have moments when I think of myself as a hearty Minnesotan.  I enjoy hearing New Yorkers complain about the cold as I merrily skip down the streets with every part of my body covered except for my eyes.  When Philadelphia closes down over an inch of snow, I let out a guffaw.  And I enjoy regaling my friends who grew up "out east" with stories of the Halloween Blizzard of 1991 (8.2 inches, and I still went trick-or-treating) or former Governor Jesse "The Body" Ventura's plan to outlaw snow days.  And, with a crew of six headed to the North Star State, a few for the first time, I was hoping that they'd get a bit of a show, if only so they too could tell their friends and family that they had braved a Minnesota winter.

What we got wasn't exactly what I had hoped for.

As I sipped my morning coffee, ate my danish and admired the Precious Moments figurines adorning the mantle of our cozy Super 8, The Weather Channel offered a pleasant reminder of home: St. Joseph, MN was coming in at 12°, with a wind chill in the negatives and black ice on the road.  Typical morning, I thought, and things should warm up as we head towards the Twin Cities.  Plus, the venue told David that we'd be loading right onto the stage, so our exposure to the elements should be limited.  Everyone assembled and skated their way across the frozen parking lot to the van, where we carefully tossed our bags in and headed for St. John's University and our concert hall venue.

As David navigated the frozen streets and we pulled up the circle, I began to think something wasn't right.  All I could see was a church with an enormous bell structure, something that looked like a 1950s-style community center, and a large brick building with a vaulted ceiling.  No loading dock, or even large utility doors.  Nothing that appeared to load "onto a stage."  We were all at a loss until a man in a large, downy coat walked out of the brick building, and waved to us.  Behind his hood I could barely make out a devious smile.  Why?  Because he had just walked down eight ice-covered stairs that lead up to a sign reading "Humphrey Theater."  Apparently, he (who turned out to be our TD/contact) had neglected to mention the steps to David while advancing the show.  Everybody's face went flat.

Now, as far as Theatreworks sets go, this one isn't bad.  Anybody who read along on the Alien Green Gorilla blog is well aware of the challenges of building a 13 foot tall house every day.  However, what we lack in physical set, we make up for in props and costumes.  Kristen weighs in as the winner with 13 costume changes over the course of the show, and I handle nearly a dozen props in the first eight minutes.  So that's a lot of bins.  And we have four, big, heavy flats, a wheeled table and the "ottoman/toy chest" (a boxy piece with a lid), which all wheel very nicely on flat surfaces, but not so well on stairs.  Thankfully, our TD had employed two of his workstudy students for us, who we convinced to do most of the lifting.  I was glad I packed my work boots.

We managed to get everything up the stairs slowly and carefully without any slipping.  Somehow between my first and second trip to the van, grit appeared on the steps, which put my mind more at ease.  We set up as quickly as we could, checked sound, filled the aluminum bottles provided by the University (thanks!) and flew threw two great shows.  The second one was particularly fun, as it was ASL interpreted.  The interpreters (who I recognized from my childhood in the Twin Cities) were just as enamored with the show as we were with them.  It was hilarious to watch a 50 year old man with a full white beard do a "pee-pee dance" as he frantically signed, "I have to go!"

Load-out was made slightly more challenging because of some fresh snow atop the ice.  Though just a dusting, it caused our first (and only) spill of the day, as Courtney slipped while carrying a bin.  She was just fine, but everybody slowed down significantly after that.  With the van safely packed, and everyone in one piece, we thanked our student crew and followed our TD to the university dining hall, where we relived our college days over a scrumptious buffet of salad, bbq chicken, pizza, sandwiches and, yes, hot dish.  It was only appropriate for a group that had just earned its Minnesota winter stripes.

Call tomorrow: 7:15am, Angelica House, Minneapolis, MN.  Yep, those are my parents.  More on that soon.

Kid Quote of the Day: This one has to go to the kids who applauded and gave me some pretend shrieks as Leonardo during my between-story interstitial bit where I work on my roar.  Vindication for Leo at last!!

Adult Quote of the Day: Remember how I introduced Kristen and her many voices?  Well, a new character has emerged: Carlotta, the Avocada.  Here is an interaction with Mr. Banana (Nic) at the St. John's dining hall:

Duck for President Takes Chicago, Part 2: Libraries and Parades

Upon a brief swing through Chicago's northern suburbs (namely St. Charles, at the Norris Cultural Arts Center), we wended our way to Chicago proper for a full two days off.  We found a reasonably-priced hotel in the city, parked the van and got ready for a mini-vacation in a city.  Indeed, as I'm sure I've said a few times before, the breaks and sit downs that sometimes accompany our one-off schedule grant us a nice chance to get familiar with a town, take a break from the constant movement and, if we're lucky, have a good adventure or two unrelated to ducks, diaper-changing pirates and musical-singing mice.

This was also the fifth time we'd driven in close proximity to Chicago, but the first time we'd actually taken an exit marked "Chicago," so that was an achievement in itself.

The actual days in Chicago passed without much group interaction.  Which is probably a good thing.  While I have made many of my best friends on Theatreworks tours, living and working with the same six people 24/7 for weeks on end can be challenging, and the opportunity to get away and do your own thing, without worrying about the van or the rest of the company is one of the things that keeps you sane.  Every evening, we'd return to the hotel with stories: David caught up with some longtime friends, Courtney found a few spectacular restaurants serving breakfast potatoes (her favorite!), Matt explored a few funky neighborhoods, Nic caught a slew of movies and Kristen ate every kind of vegan food imaginable.  My days were mostly spent in the museums or at a theater: the zoo, Chicago Art Institute, lunch with my friend Eva and productions of K. by the Hypocrites and Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind by the Neo-Futurists (who, in performance, thoroughly molested my copy of Time Out Chicago; it was fantastic!)

And then it was showtime!  Our venue at this juncture was the Harold Washington Public Library, right there on State Street, in the very center of things.  What's more, we were performing as the centerpiece of Bookamania, the library's celebration of children's books:

(image from the Chicago Public Library, and the T-shirts they gave us!)

To do a show about books in a library is pretty spectacular, and being the "featured guests" on all their advertising of an event is also rather cool.  And, because of all the other activities scheduled that day, we had loaded our set in a day prior (and found a spot for the van near the library), so we all arrived for call time via the famous Chicago "El", did a sound check and took our half-hour break.  It's amazing how little things like that can entirely transform the experience.

Both performances were fairly packed.  The houselights stayed at half in order to let audience members come and go as they pleased, and the ebb and flow of people in the house took a little getting used to on our part.  The houselights, however, did allowed us to see audience reaction in a theater setting, something we rarely get to do.  And, since the show was free, the audience was a good mix of adults and kids, ranging in ages from tiny to middle-school, and hailing from nearly every ethnic, social and economic background you could imagine.  You had yuppies next to families from the projects, and everybody was cheering for the Obama joke!  I've always been a big fan of libraries in general, but this was one of those days that reminded me how truly central they can be to an urban environment -- a great equalizer, to a degree.  I also enjoyed watching scores of spellbound kids repeatedly rebuff their parents' attempts to get them to "move on to something else."  Were there ever a question about the power of theater, their mesmerized faces would have settled the debate.


After loading out (through the innards of the library, which was a kick for me!), we took lunch and agreed to meet with our luggage at a designated spot, where we would all dive into the van and head off to Wisconsin.  However, Chicago had other plans for us.  Little did we know, November 20th was also the day of the Magnificent Mile Lights Festival, an evening parade akin to Macy's Thanksgiving variety, but with more light-up stuff.  Quite cool, until you realize that the street and "El" station closures mean that David is now circling our meet-up location, and that all Chicago freeway entrances are inaccessible via city streets.  We lugged our stuff through the throngs of people to meet David and the van, tumbled in and, through the windshield, watched Rudolph and Santa pass above us.  A warm holiday glow briefly fell over the van.


And then we high-tailed it out of town.  Off to Janesville, WI and then my home state of Minnesota!


Call tomorrow: 7:15am, Super 8, St. Joseph, MN.


Kid Quote of the Day: At the opening of "Babymouse," a little girl exclaimed, "I LOVE that one!"  She then proceeded to mimic Kristen's expressions and physicality for the remainder of the story.


Adult Quote of the Day:  The house crew for the library venue was a neat group. One in particular, with a cane and a camouflage coat, was everybody's favorite. Nic especially.  "He's a wizard," he whispered to me backstage. "I don't think he actually needs the cane."  The world may never know.

Duck for President Takes Chicago, Part 1: Joliet (but not really)

It's the big time!  You see, we'd passed by the glittering, seductive lights of Chicago four times so far, each time waving at the Sears Tower and John Hancock Center as we battled I-90 traffic.  But now we were had finally arrived, for a week.

We began with three days off in Joliet.  Which, despite some claims, is not Chicago.  It is about an hour and a half by train ride from Chi-town.  Matt missed this portion of the adventure, as he was headed back to Jersey to see a production of a show he co-wrote.  However, Team ECK was not about to let a 90 minute train ride stop us from experiencing all that the Windy City had to offer!  Courtney found a humanities festival that was hosting a discussion between the Artistic Director of Steppenwolf and a professor on "Actors and the Body," I located the half-price ticket booth, Kristen found a slew of vegan restaurants, and we were off!

Team ECK engages in my kind of travel: set up some guidepost, and then be ready to divert from the plan, if needed.  So, after our train ride into the city, we headed for the Hip Tix half-priced ticket booth, where we received an excellent recommendation for a sold-out performance of A Brief History of Helen of Troy, a show Courtney had read in a previous incarnation (and under a different name).  Hoofing it back to the library, and briefly diverted by the exceptional Chicago Cultural Center's free modern art exhibit, we slipped into a rather inspiring (if scattered) conversation about the actor's art form.  It was interesting to hear our craft referred to as a generative art form (after all, actors are responsible for developing characters and roles, we have helped playwrights generate scripts and actors have contributed many iconic theatrical moments to theatrical history), and wonderful to be told that "actors are very interesting people" by a Yale-trained Ph.D.  Filled with inspiration, we headed off for a vegan take on a Chicago favorite...

... and headed to the Steep Theater for a little more artistic filling.  A Brief History of Helen of Troy was as gritty and challenging as the gentlemen at Hip Tix had promised.  A teenage girl deals with the recent death of her mother, and all of the muck she must wade through during adolescence, by drawing parallels to the life of Helen of Troy.  It was their closing night, so the house was packed (not sure why they had tickets at the half-priced booth), and we all left a little shell-shocked.  It was nice to be reminded, when you're doing lighter, TYA fare, that more serious stuff is going on out there.

Chicago-via-Joliet day two brought the rest of the gang together.  First stop: The Bean:

 

Afterward, we split up, as David and I headed for the Field Museum of Natural History, Nic made his way to the Planetarium and the ladies did an America's Next Top Model-esqe photo shoot on the shores of Lake Michigan (Kristen has the evidence).  Dinner was the Chicago Diner, a vegan mecca that Kristen had researched, and it was as delicious as expected.  We rode the train back full, and thoroughly exhausted.

Afterward, we split up, as David and I headed for the Field Museum of Natural History, Nic made his way to the Planetarium and the ladies did an America's Next Top Model-esqe photo shoot on the shores of Lake Michigan (Kristen has the evidence).  Dinner was the Chicago Diner, a vegan mecca that Kristen had researched, and it was as delicious as expected.  We rode the train back full, and thoroughly exhausted.

Another day of rest, and it was showtime once again.  Our venue, the Rialto Square Theater, was clearly a popular Theatreworks touring spot, evidenced by the multitude of signatures adorning the old walls.  (I spent a good part of my half-hour photographing the autographs and sending them to friends who had been through before.)  It was odd to do the show again after three days off -- there is always a moment of "oh, right, THAT'S when that happens" that goes on once you've had a few days away from performances, but our mental catch-ups were barely discernible to the audience, and it was nice to get the show back in our bodies.  As the set headed back into the Sprinter, we left our mark as well.

Call tomorrow: 8am, Courtyard by Marriott, St Charles, IL.  Two more shows, and then we're in Chicago proper for a few more days of fun.

Kid Quote of the Day:  Promptly after I announced, "Babymouse: The Musical, by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm," a little boy shouted, "That's my name!"  I'm not sure what he was talking about.

Adult Quote of the Day:  Our cast seems to like fruit.  Earlier posts will attest to Matt's love of apples, but he's not alone.  Anyway, one venue had a spread set out for us one day.  Matt was the first to investigate.  As we trotted down the hall, we heard an exclamation: "Shiny fruit!"  Since then, all fruit's shine factor has been a major subject of discussion.

No Sound!

After our wild week of shows and travel (see previous posts), the tour slowed down significantly.  This week, our schedules listed a total of four shows, two of which were completed in our very first day.  As we packed up after our Ohio performances in Sylvania, everyone was feeling great.  Halfway done with the week's shows, and it's only Tuesday!  We hopped in our van and cruised to Muncie, IN, the home of Ball State University and the venue for our next performance.

One of the things that I think is incredibly impressive about Theatreworks shows is the way they sound.  I have only had the chance to see one Theatreworks show so far (in a gymnasium in Wisconsin while replacing into an existing Max & Ruby company), but I remember being dazzled by how incredibly professional it sounded. Believe it or not, all the music you hear at a Theatreworks show comes from a tiny Minidisk.  And this isn't some canned piano track -- the show is fully orchestrated, with all the extra "bells and whistles" that you'd expect from a large pit orchestra.  (One of the neat things about working on this show is that the orchestrations were still "under construction" during the rehearsal period, so we got to hear multiple variations as all the kinks got ironed out, and got to dictate some of the timing!)   Our voices are piped through a professional-grade wireless microphone system and mixed live by our stage manager during the performance.  Even in a gym (with our own speakers), the show sounded really great.  I can only imagine what it sounds like when plugged into a theater's sound system.

But a great sound system only goes so far.

At Ball State, we were all loaded in, costumed and ready to cruise through our third of four shows.  And everything was going great!  The auditorium was gigantic, but the kids filled it with laughter and applause, and remained with us as we moved from one story to the next.  I remember feeling like everyone was also in particularly good voice, and the acoustics of this huge theater gave us a little echo that upped the resonance factor just enough so that we could really hear the difference from the stage.

Until "Pirates Don't Change Diapers."

Nic, Kristen and I dove onstage in fill pirate regalia as the oom-pa-pa of the track played.  "Pirates" is one of the stories where the music is split into multiple tracks, as there is a decent amount of dialogue in the story that is not underscored.  This makes our cue lines are extremely important.  And, with rehearsal and repeated performance, we've become pretty attuned to when the track comes in and out.  So you can imagine our surprise when Nic proclaimed his first cue and no music came out of the speakers.

As I looked back to the sound booth, I saw David scrambling furiously at the board.  We continued with the story a capella, adding vocal sound effects to cover those that were missing, and were relieved to hear the music return at Nic's next cue.  A simple glitch in the wiring, I assumed, and David's got it under control.  Yet, one cue later, the sound dropped off again, this time taking our mics with it.  At this point, the entire cast was staring at each other, rather confused.  We continued the story at pace, waiting for our sound to return.  Every track cue was a moment to check in with each other and each time there was a collective "here we go!" breath.  Offstage, house crew members in black scurried back and forth with flashlights, racing to repair what was turning into a major sound snafu.

We finished the number without mics or sound, and headed off stage, waiting for information from the crew as to our next steps.  Turns out, the theater's sound system -- brand new and state-of-the-art -- had mysteriously overloaded and shut itself down.  Twice.  The next, and last, story in the show is "Babymouse: The Musical" and, without music, it barely works (an old stage manager of mine is fond of saying, "Without music, it's just an 'al'"), so we nervously waited in the wings, watching the crew try to determine the cause of the silence and hoping that what felt like an eternity would soon be over.


Of course, as suddenly as it had disappeared, the sound system returned, David forwarded the Minidisk to the appropriate track and off we went (although everyone was definitely on their toes for the rest of the show).  It is still a mystery as to what exactly went wrong, but the house crew was busy on the phone with their local sound company as we were packing up.  What is most notable to me, however, is that, as a cast, we managed to get through the harmonies and tricky rhythmic changes of "Pirates Don't Change Diapers" without much trouble, in time with each other and with the usual enthusiasm that comes with this high-energy story.  I honestly think the story looked practically the same (and Kristen and I may need to go into the vocal sound effects business after our onstage improvisation).  It's also, I think, a good litmus test for where we are as a company.  Our Muncie show was our 53rd performance and our eighth week on the road, which is often the time that everyone in the company starts to get tired, and things begin to get lax.  Not so for the Fancy Ducks!  I suspect this show proved to all of us that we are definitely still in the game.

(P.S.  I have heard from many of my readers that they have been unable to comment on my posts.  I think I have resolved that issue, so have at it!)

Call tomorrow: 8am, Super 8, Terre Haute, IN.  One show, and we're off to Chicagoland for a few days off!

Kid Quote of the Day: At the end of Babymouse (when the set and actors come crashing down and there is a brief silence before an awkward button by Tommy the Rabbit), an eager youngin' in the front row exclaimed in the clear: "It's funny because they fell."  The kid's got timing!

Adult Quote of the Day: Kristen, a woman of many voices, has begun impersonating Marcel the Shell with Shoes On.  Kristen's Marcel often comes out in the van on long car rides.  One day, during an impromptu interview session, "Marcel" defended his inability to recall the day's events by announcing, "I have shell-term memory issues!"  There are more "voices of Kristen" quotes to come, I suspect!

A Heck of a Week, Part 2: Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin and Ohio

When we last left our fearless adventuring thespians, they were headed to Benton Harbor, MI, the third state in as many days. It had been a long slog across multiple states (and, now, time zones), but spirits were high and the cast was returning to full health. It seemed that all would quiet on the Western Shore (of Lake Michigan).

With a late-ish arrival in Michigan, we decided to stay close to our hotel for the evening. Our Red Roof Inn, the only nearby hotel in our price range, overlooked a tapas place, and, eager for something other than heat-lamp warmed burgers in a corporate-ized environment, I quickly pulled together an expedition: David, Courtney and myself. As we crossed the street, however, things turned grim. The mammoth highway sign was not lighting up as the sun went down, and there appeared a rather prominent “FOR RENT” sign on the door. Dismayed, but not disheartened, we headed to a local pancake house/diner as a second choice. They closed at 6pm. Finally, with options dwindling, we headed off to the only remaining place we knew would offer us fresh eats: Applebees.

As we chowed down on spinach-artichoke dip and pasta, our phones started buzzing. It was Kristen. “Was doing pilates,” she texted, “and I just trapped two roaches.” Uh oh. Not great news, particularly for Courtney, who is Kristen’s roommate and is particularly disgusted by cockroaches. We finished dinner and scurried back to the hotel, where the ladies changed rooms, David and I checked our beds and everyone hunkered down for the night.

Our shows the next day came with a dusting of snow. Well, perhaps more than a dusting. In fact, it didn’t stop until we (and our stellar crew at the Mendel Center!) had loaded out the show, and were on the road back to Illinois. Our final shows of the week were back in Wisconsin, but, because of our contractual day length, we were spending the night in Waukegan, IL. Back in the van again, we carefully cruised out of Michigan and the snow as we started our way through Indiana. When traffic stopped. Dead.

After moving only one mile in over an hour, we discovered the cause of our delay: a tractor-trailer had overturned on the freeway, and was blocking all three lanes of traffic. As we crept by the wreckage, we spotted ambulances, skid marks and the charred underbelly of the cab. The company fell silent for the rest of the trip.

We passed into Central Daylight Saving Time, breezed by Chicago, arrived in Waukegan, slept, and then headed to Hartland, WI for our final shows of the week. Our presenters, Lake County Children’s Theater, provided us with a world-class Midwestern spread for lunch, but that wasn’t the best of it. This performance was sponsored by the Piggly Wiggly grocery store chain, and introduced by Dugan the Dragon, LCCT’s storybook-reading mascot, both of whom were present. That required some photos:

After a night in Milwaukee area and the end of Daylight Saving Time, we all managed to returned to the van on time for our last expedition: Toledo, OH. Theatreworks had gotten wind of our wild week, and kindly offered to buy us all a nice dinner (see below). As we swung by Chicago for a fourth time, I mentally reviewed the past seven days: Wisconsin to Illinois to Michigan to Illinois to Wisconsin to Ohio. Six state changes in seven days, with three time changes, and the end of Daylight Saving Time. And dragons, pigs, cockroaches, vocal rest, truck accidents and a few Burger King sandwiches along the way. This is one for the record books, folks! It has been a heck of a week.

Call tomorrow: Nope. It’s a day off. And we deserve it!

Kid Quote of the Day: During a meet-and-greet after the Hartland, WI show, a little girl asked Courtney (Fancy Nancy) with great concern, “Um, when you were crying onstage, were you really crying?”

Adult Quote of the Day: Also in Hartland, WI, one of the LCCT staff members, asked me where I was from. “New York,” I replied, “but I was born in Minnesota.” “Ah,” she said, knowingly. “So you know real cheese.” And I smiled.

A Heck of a Week, Part 1: Wisconsin, Illinois and Michigan

Once in a while, you have one of those weeks that is such a breeze that you barely remember you're actually working. One of those weeks when the shows are cake, the drives short, the hotels pristine and the day (or days) off is in a super-awesome location with tons of cool things to do.

This is not one of them.

After a wonderful Tuesday performance in Whitewater, we loaded up our trusty Sprinter, lunched on burritos, swung by the post office and raced off to Onalaska, WI, a suburb of La Crosse. Onalaska offers very little in the way of entertainment, but the mammoth Woodman's grocery store (and it's extraordinary cheese and Leinie's sections) kept everybody busy for an evening. I passed the time spotting Minnesota license plates on the freeway and reading Albee's Tiny Alice with a cup of decaf coffee.

Our two shows the next day in West Salem, WI were fine, but the challenges of the last months were beginning to show themselves. About now on tour is when people start getting sick, and we was not immune. Just about everyone was battling something viral (me included), but Nic was suffering the most. He sounded great onstage, but was coughing a ton, and staying very quiet offstage. None of which was comforting. A smart actor, he took himself to a doctor, who prescribed the ultimate singer's cure: vocal rest. Uh oh.

You see, Theatreworks does not travel with understudies, which means we cover each other from within. The "fall chart" in this show is tricky and, for the guys at least, much of it falls on me. So, as I watched the election results pour in, I began reviewing Nic's songs and lines, hoping he would feel better in time for our newly-added show in Illinois on Thursday (more on that later) and praying that, if needed, I'd be able to make it through his show. Nic's track is HARD!!

We loaded into the van the next day, headed for Rockford, IL, a three-and-a-half hour drive to get ready for our added show. Theatreworks got a last-minute booking for a 9am performance at a school in Rockford exactly eight days ahead of time, which is the minimum notice we are required to receive for added shows under our contract. This show replaced our day off this week, which meant (again, according to contract) that our travel day to Rockford would count as a "day off" and we would be provided with an extra day off in an upcoming week.

Our evening in Rockford was quiet, with everyone catching an early evening at our Super 8. Nic and David chatted and Nic decided he was feeling well enough to do the show the next day, which was welcome news. Rockford is a lovely town, I'm sure, but, sadly, our slice seemed to close up around 7ish, so I dined on Burger King while discussing the election results with my folks.

The Rockford show was great, particularly for a show that early! Being on a gym floor affords us the opportunity to see reactions up close, and the kids ate the show up. With involved and invested teachers, a school sponsor who was beside herself to have us there, coffee and snacks before the show and boxed lunches after, we were thrilled. We loaded up the van, bid farewell to our young fans, grabbed coffee at a local Starbucks, met up with the non-union A Chorus Line tour (and, no, I did not attempt a rumble, as in past tours) and began a four-hour trek past Chicago, through Indiana and up Lake Michigan to Benton Harbor, MI, the location of our next venue. Passing into Eastern Daylight Saving Time, I mentally recounted our travels: Wisconsin to Illinois to Michigan, in as many days. This is turning into one heck of a week! And now, in "the mitten," they are predicting snow.

To be continued...

Call tomorrow: 8am, Red Roof Inn, Benton Harbor, MI.

Kid Quote of the Day: On the button of "Babymouse: The Musical," a little boy made a super-hero hand motion and shouted, "Go Babymouse!!"

Adult Quote of the Day: Between shows in West Salem, WI, everyone hunkered down for a nap to nurse their colds. Out of nowhere, we hear from Matt, "I love this couch! It has peacocks all over it!"

Midwest bound

So, we left Pittsburgh and headed out for the mysterious lands of Western Maryland and Parkersburg, WV (where we met a cat at our Travelodge who would not leave Nic alone).  Our Maryland venue gave us swag: a pen, lovely card and sturdy tote bag.  Parkersburg was our first attempt of this show on a thrust-style stage, which proved a little tricky and was a nice mental pick-up for the company.  For any future tours out there, know this: push the drop as far upstage as possible and, if you can play the show with a single wing (pull the upstage flats as far back as you can and bring all set pieces through the one opening left), do it.  It takes very little additional mental effort to make the show run close to normal, forces you to play further downstage and allows the kids to see everything.  Oh, and change behind the drop, if you can.  The little kid screaming "I SEE A MONSTER!" reminded me of that during the first show.

After a quick stop in Ohio (performing in the high school attended by a friend in the city), we were off to the homeland.  Well, my homeland: the Midwest.  We cruised through Chicago rush hour traffic and arrived in our first stop, a weekend off in Madison, WI.  And, truly, it was good to be back.

I am proud to be the only born and bred Midwesterner in this company.  In fact, knowing that we were headed back to the "homeland" was part of the reason I took this tour (a reminder to my Twin Cities readers: November 23 is rapidly approaching!)  And, even more exciting for me is that a few cast members had never touched down in the "flyover region," which means I get to help introduce them to some of the simple joys that are my home region.  Indeed, smelling that fresh Wisconsin air, tinged with a hint of manure, made me feel right at home.

Madison is a charming introduction to the Midwest: a nice college town, very manageable, a capital, a cultural hotspot and, perhaps most exciting for us, a gigantic farmers market! Team ECK sampled the fare, I started slipping back into my Midwestern accent, Courtney was introduced to cheese curds (which are deliciously squeaky; I will not have a word said against them!) and finally settled on a make-your-own-salsa kit:

After some tea at a tea house and burgers at the famous Dotty Dumplings Dowry, Kristen turned to me and happily exclaimed, "I didn't expect the Midwest to be like this!" To which I replied, "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

On a personal note, now begins a great chance for me to catch up with some friends I haven't seen in years. There are plenty of Minnesotans that wind up in New York City, but many more settle in places like Madison and Chicago, spots that are coming up in the next few weeks. Madison brought me back in touch with Rachel, a friend from high school who I probably haven't seen in at least seven years. We breakfasted at a great diner the morning after Madison's monumental FreakFest, and marveled at the hungover students (many of whom were still in costume). That evening, after we trekked near Whitewater in preparation for our morning shows the next day, I caught up with Kate (pictured below), a stage manager from my summers in Door County who now teaches English and directs a theater program at a nearby high school. She also showed me her classroom, which is a haven for creative students and certainly the kind of place that would have inspired me as a high school-er. While I'm out there inspiring the little ones, she's making sure the big kids are getting their fill too!

Oh, and what did we do for Halloween? Courtney and Kristen hosted a small get-together in their Jefferson, WI hotel room, complete with fresh salsa (!), pumpkin-flavored dessert hummus and pretzels, and we watched the classic Disney masterpiece Hocus Pocus. Thank goodness we were the only people staying at the hotel that night! The laughter was so loud, I'm sure we would have been shushed by the neighbors.

Call tomorrow: 7:30am, Rodeway Inn, Jefferson, WI.

Kid Quote of the Day: After one of the Parkersburg, WV shows, a boy in the front row turned to David and said, "Eh, the books were better."

Adult Quote of the Day: This one was from me, while filling out my absentee ballot. "Of course! I think Sarah Palin is hot, and that's why I vote Republican." Anybody who knows me will see a number of things wrong with that statement.

Pittsburgh Week Part 3: A Grand Night Out

After what almost amounted to a week long, sit-down in Pittsburgh, it was time to bid the city that had hosted us so well a fond farewell. And, although Team ECK made an excursion to the Andy Warhol Museum and a nice little (part-vegan) BBQ restaurant, most of our off-time was spent sleeping in, wandering our lovely suburban neighborhood, catching movies at the local multiplex and mingling with the locals over scrapple and eggs at the nearby diner (that was me; I never need to eat scrapple again). But our last night required something special. And it was Saturday night! So, we (minus David, who was headed to the Carnegie Mellon area with a friend) dressed ourselves up and headed out to the South Side, out for a tasty-looking restaurant for dinner and a ride on the historic Duquesne incline for a spectacular nighttime view of the city.

We discovered quickly that our instincts were accurate. South Side is quite trendy, and clearly the hip Saturday night meet-up place. However, this presented a problem: the van. See, taking an oversized Sprinter van to a densely-populated, "in" urban area and expecting to find street parking on a Saturday night isn't exactly the brightest idea we've had on this tour. And, after an hour of spotting only cramped street parking and low-clearance garages, we did the only reasonable thing there was left to do.

We valet parked the van:

The guys were actually thrilled to get to drive something as big and "manly" as a Sprinter. Anyway, with our van safely tucked away (under the watchful eye of the valet dudes) at a price our pocketbooks could afford, we headed off to Yo Rita, a small-plates taco bar where (under the disdainful gaze of our eye-rolling waitress) we enjoyed some of the most unique Mexican fare I've ever tasted, and far too many baskets of free chips and salsa. This cast as a penchant for living well on occasion, and tonight was no exception. Dreaming of what we would each do with a million dollars (we play these games at dinner when we've run out of conversation), our troupe retrieved the Sprinter, tumbled in and raced to catch one of the last trips up the incline:

So long, Pittsburgh! It was a great week!

(P.S.  We got press!  Check out an interview with Nic here,  an interview with director Kevin here and a stellar review here!)

Call tomorrow: 7:30am, Travelodge, Parkersburg, WV. We'll be performing on our first thrust stage!

Kid Quote of the Day: Part of our time in Pittsburgh also included some workshops. We taught three groups of kids (ages three through five) theater games and imagination exercises connected to our books. Which, of course, garnered me a whole host of quotes. My current favorite? During an exercise where we had the kids pretend to be different kinds of monsters (after Leonardo), the entire class recognized Nic as Sam (the boy Leo tries to scare in the story) and ganged up on him. When I pointed out that Sam was scared, and we needed to help him, guess what happened? Nic disappeared underneath a pile of hugs.

Adult Quote of the Day: At the "scrapple" diner, I was referred to as "honey," "sweetie," "sugar," "angel," "darlin'" and "babe" by my server. It was an experience.