Manhattan(s), I've prepared for you.

I’m sitting at JFK waiting for my flight to New Orleans to board and I’m staring at a bar that serves both coffee and alcohol.  If I can’t find a place to live in SF, I may pull a Tom Hanks and just move into this terminal.

I spent a whirlwind weekend in the city so nice they named it twice.  Let’s begin.

My flight from Rochester to NY was fine. I’ve been reading Armisted Maupin’s Tales of the City series in preparation for ACT’s world premiere musicalization next year.  I was really into my book the whole flight—until the person of discernable sex started clipping his/her fingernails next to me.  What’s left of my fight or flight system kicked in… and I promptly did nothing.  In college, my “fight” shut down and I always ran away.  Apparently I’m out of “flight” now, too. Crap.

I arrived at JFK on Thursday around 5:25 pm and went to collect my luggage (a 47.5lb monstrosity that is difficult to navigate anywhere, especially a NY subway).  After, oh about 20 minutes waiting for my luggage to arrive at carousel 5, I decided to get up and walk around a bit.  That’s when I saw my luggage circling carousel 6.  And only my luggage.  I guess everyone else on the flight from Rochester either carried on, or decided to be proactive and look up the baggage claim info instead of just winging it.

Thanks to Rosie (Not O'Donnell)’s detailed instructions, I made it to her apartment, dropped off my crap, and hopped back on the subway to meet Katie B in Times Square.  We decided to see La Cage Aux Folles—starring Doug Hodge and Frasier! In case you were wondering, Lillith wasn’t there; she’s a few blocks down at the Addams Family. It was during this performance of La Cage that I decided we should try a new rule as a theatre community: 

Audiences should only be allowed to laugh and clap.  No other form of vocalization or noise-making will be tolerated.  

This new rule of mine was prompted by the people behind me rustling through a plastic bag and eating potato chips.  The loudest chip eaters ever.  Said chip-eaters came back after intermission without turning off their phone—which rang loudly.  And this guy answered it!  Didn’t go outside to answer it—got out of his seat and was having a full conversation from just behind the last row!  The ushers in the theatre screamed when people put playbills on the ledge of the balcony, and screamed louder when they saw a camera.  They did nothing during the phone call.  Maybe they’re out of fight and flight, too.  Or maybe their give a damns busted.

On Friday, I woke up early to rush A Little Night Music now starring Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch.  I think I’m going to need to enroll in another college soon, because I don’t know how much longer I will continue to pass for the 18 year old on my SCU student id card.  I got myself and Katie B tickets for the show-- $25 for third row orchestra—and then met up with Scotty and his friend Grace for breakfast.  Scotty’s in the NYU Musical Theatre writing Grad program, and he was presenting a few songs to his faculty that day.   I got to sing in a couple of them and made my NY debut—and perhaps, my NY farewell performance, too.  I got lost going from NYU to Rosie (Not O'Donnell)’s apartment, and a nice girl that also sang for Scotty showed me the way.  Thanks, stranger!

A Little Night Music was good, but it’s far from my favorite show.  I really went to see Bernadette sing “Send In the Clowns,” Elaine sing “Liasons”, and Erin Davie sing “Every Day A Little Death.”  All were above and beyond my expectations.

On Saturday, I woke up early to try my luck at the Next To Normal lottery.  I saw this show last Halloween and was really surprised at how much I enjoyed it, and how moved I was by the material.  I was looking forward to seeing it with the new cast, Marin Mazzie and Marin Mazzie’s Husband Jason Daniely, whom I’ve seen in a couple concerts.   I lost the lotto, but got a $40 limited view orchestra seat. Marin brought a different take to the bi-polar Diana—less “batshit” and more “depressed.”  I could see every tear pouring down her face—and if she looked in my direction, she could see every tear pouring down mine the entire show. It was a lovely performance. 

That night, Scotty and his friends and I had planned to see Cherry Jones in a preview of Mrs. Warren’s Profession, a George Bernard Shaw wordy play.  Winter 2007, Cherry toured SF with her Tony Award winning role in Doubt.  Scotty went to the stage door after a performance, and asked her if she would come talk to the theatre department at SCU through our honors society, Alpha Psi Omega.  She said she was in a rush, but gave Scotty her cell phone number and told him to call her.  So he did (of course), and they arranged for her to come speak to us all.  Scotty picked Cherry up in SF and drove her down to SCU.  She gave a great interview/Q&A, had lunch with a few of us, and then headed back up to SF.  As co-presidents of Alpha Psi Omega, Scotty and I drove her back to the city.  I spent a good 50 minutes in the car with her, chatting about the theatre, the Tonys, and life in general.  The most down to earth performer I’ve met.  This story was impressive to about 7 people before Cherry played the president on 24.  Now it’s impressive to whoever watched 24 for the last few seasons (shoutout to Therapist Maureen!).  We stayed after Mrs. Warren’s Profession to reconnect with her.  Scotty got 2 hugs and kisses on the cheek, and I got a nice handshake. 

On Sunday, I woke up early (I can’t believe how many times I’ve typed that) to rush Promises Promises starring Sean Hayes and Kristin Chenoweth.  My weekend was a regular NBC Comedy lineup—Frasier, Jack, Kristin.   I was standing in line in front of these two high school kids, one of whom peaked when he appeared in Shitty Shitty Bang Bang, and the other who peaked in her school’s production of Peter Pan.  Of course they had seats next to me and pointed out how they knew everyone.  My silence rule would have come in handy again.  Despite their chatter, I actually really enjoyed the show.  I had tickets to see the evening performance of In the Heights, and about an hour to kill before the curtain, so I headed into a bar off of 8^th Ave. I ordered a Manhattan IN Manhattan and watched Packer highlights.  As I told Maureen, someone should call Hell and see if it is, indeed, frozen over.  I wandered around for a bit, bought some more crap that I don’t need, and headed to the Heights.  I had avoided the show the last few years because it seemed predictable and uninteresting to me. The story was predictable, but very touching.  I’m glad I saw it.

I also found time to go to Rockefeller Center and buy 2 West Wing T-Shirts that are the wrong size but were on clearance.  I am nothing if not a devoted fan.


Any suggestions for what to do/see in the Nola?

I’ve been writing this blog and spending my weekend with a heavy heart.  Mom told me about the fire in San Bruno on Thursday, and I got news on Friday that one of my drama students, Janessa Greig, and her mother Jacki were killed in the explosion.  It’s hard to put into words what a loss this is for our drama club and our entire St. Cecilia’s community.  Janessa was the student council president, and the sweetest girl in the school.  Her mom was at every drama club show, volunteering however she could to help.  The two of them will be missed dearly. 

It was interesting to be in NY on the 9^th anniversary of September 11.  To see how a community, a city, a nation, came together to rebuild, to honor, and to heal was inspiring and touching. 

Please keep Mr. James Greig and his daughter Gabi in your thoughts and prayers.  The two were not at home when the explosion happened, and lost their home along with Jacki and Janessa.  Pray, too, for the students and faculty of St. Cecilias. This will not be easy, but the SC community is strong and supportive, and we will be there for each other during this time of grief and anger. 

The living was the prize, the ending’s not the story…

Love and peace to you all

G