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.