The evening of Wednesday, 03/14/84, the NYC theatre tour group was scheduled to see an Off-Broadway production at Playwrights Horizons. It was "Isn't It Romantic?" by up and coming playwright Wendy Wasserstein. While it had a small but decent-sized stage, the seating consisted of regular single chairs on a flat floor.
Cristine Rose was in the original cast and she seemed to be playing a idealized version of Wasserstein. She portrayed a 30-year-old woman who was living on her own, but still could not get her parents out of her life. (This is a rather simplified synopsis.) She was really funny and endearing to watch in the play.
Outside in the lobby, there was a table with these postcards on it. The cards said that the cast and crew would be attending a special event that evening at someplace called The Heartbreak. The cards gave the address and said that the admission would be $15. I decided I wanted to go to that. After the performance, we got back to the hotel. It was after 11pm. I didn't have any cash to pay the $15 and cab fare, so I grabbed a traveler's check and went down to the lobby cashier. They had closed their bank for the night. I went out to a couple of nearby hotels and ran into the same problem. No one had any money to give me $50 in exchange for a check. I went back to my hotel and knocked on Dr. W's door. He opened it and seemed a little surprised to see me. I asked him if he could loan me $40 until I could cash a check the next day. I told him what I was going to do. I was actually surprised that he reached into his wallet and handed me two $20 bills.
I ran out and got a taxi. Since it was a weeknight, traffic was rather light and we got to the Heartbreak relatively quickly. When I got to the destination, I realized it was this huge nightclub. There was a line of people outside waiting to get in. I went up to the doorman and showed him the postcard from the theatre. He handed me a business-sized card with The Heartbreak's logo. He opened the door and told me to take that card to the window. I went up and handed the cashier the card. I started to give her a $20 bill for the admission, but she told me that I got in free with that small card. SCORE!
As I approached the main dance floor, the thought suddenly occurred to me that this might be a gay night club. The moment I completed that thought, this big burly guy in a white shirt grabbed me by the wrist! I thought he was going to say something like, "Come on, sweetie, let's dance!" I envisioned myself screaming at the top of my lungs. The next thing I knew, he took a rubber stamp and stamped the back of my hand and let go. "That's so you can get back in if you leave." "Oh, thanks."
The first thing I set about doing was trying to find the cast and crew from "Isn't It Romantic." It was after midnight at this point and I was afraid that they had already left. I looked around and I saw Cristine Rose sitting in a chair and she was surrounded by a couple of other people I had seen in the production. Asperger Syndrome be damned, I approached her and asked if she wanted to dance with me. She had a shocked look on her face. She quickly looked at the people surrounding her. Then she smiled and said, "Why not?" We took to the floor. A few seconds later, a couple of the other cast members joined us. The song ended and then an early Beatles song came on. She acted like a 13-year-old girl in the midst of Beatlemania and started screaming. (She was 33 in 1984, so yes, she would have experienced this first hand.) We danced to this song as well. After the song was over, I whispered in her ear that I had enjoyed her performance earlier that evening. She probably wasn't aware I had been in the audience that night and probably realized then why I randomly came up and asked her to dance. (I should also add that neither of the songs we danced to were slow ones, so there was no actual physical contact.)
I was very excited about what had just transpired, but I wasn't ready to go home yet. I decided to try to get a dance with any woman at the club I could get to dance with me. (I was so not there to pick up someone to go out for a one-night stand.) And as easy as it was to get Cristine Rose to dance with me, it was dang near impossible to find another girl willing to go to the floor with me. Twice, I had women tell me, "No, I'm going to go dance with her." This shocked me the first time it happened, but I saw that they weren't lesbians, they just enjoyed taking to the dance floor with their female friends.
I did succeed in getting one woman to dance with me. It was Michael Jackson's "Thriller," and it was nice because the DJ played the full-length album version, which meant we got to dance for more than five minutes. I thanked the woman for dancing with me and never spoke to her again. I had accomplished all I had set out to do and I had another full day for Thursday. All the way back, the cab kept hitting green lights. That probably saved me a few dollars.
Later that summer, I was randomly watching TV one night. A program titled "Love Long Distance" came on. It was apparent that it was a TV pilot that didn't get picked up. Normally, I wouldn't have watched it, but I saw Cristine Rose's name in the opening credist. Oh, I had to watch this. The premise of the show was this young married couple who had to spend their weekdays apart at their jobs, but got together on the weekends. Cristine Rose played the wife's weekday roommate. She was really funny, but the show didn't look like the writers would be able to come up with any more amusing stories that didn't involve the couple trying to go out in the middle of the week and surprise the other only to find out the other one did the same thing at the same time.
This was something that would continue throughout my life. I would always see her making guest appearances on TV shows. She was actually a very hard-working actress. And if I was watching something with someone else and she was on it, I would always bring up the fact that I had gotten to dance with her. And it was thrilling to see her get more notice on the show "Heroes."
And I have always wondered, in the event that I ran into her signing autographs somewhere like Comic-Con, if she would remember me once I jogged her memory. I may never find out. After all, it was more than 30 years ago.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Friday, January 9, 2015
Choose your restaurant name wisely
When I come by this place, this is all I can think about.
But some businesses can come up with worse names, like "Burns' Bakery."
But some businesses can come up with worse names, like "Burns' Bakery."
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Spring Break in NYC, Part 3
(I would like to take this opportunity to re-iterate one of my rules for blogging my life story. More than a year ago, I wrote that I would only write about one certain celebrity encounter that I had in my life. That will actually be in Monday's post. But for now, I need to clarify that this rule means that I'm not even going to mention any celebrities I saw on stage during my week in NYC. So, anytime I mention a certain production I attended and say that I saw the original cast or members of the original cast in it, it's going to be up to you to go on the Internet to research it to find out who I saw. I should add at this time that after I conclude this phase of the blog, I will start writing about my other celebrity encounters. However, I probably won't get to Phase II for at least another year.)
Monday, 03/12/84, was the day we did some sightseeing. We went down to the United Nations and took a tour. After that, we went to the World Trade Center, saw the stock market in action and went to the observation deck. At the time, I thought I would be making serveral trips to NYC and might go to the WTC on more than one occasion. I actually never went back and in the aftermath of 9/11, I was saddened that I would never scale the heights of the Manhattan skyline like that again. I never have been back to NYC since.
We didn't have any shows scheduled to attend that evening, so it was a free night for all of us. I decided to see what was available at the TKTS booth for half-price. When I got close to the front of the line, I saw that one of the shows with tickets available was "The Rink." This was early in the musical's run, so the original cast was still in it. I certain thought it was worth paying half-price to see these stars live. Following the performance, there was a lot of stuff going on that kept me up really late and I didn't get much sleep that night.
Tuesday morning, I had a hard time getting out of bed. Grad told me I needed to get up if I wanted to go to take the scheduled tour of the Player's Club. At first, I wanted to stay in the hotel and get some more sleep, but I figured that since this was one of the things that my parents had paid for on this tour, I should get up and go. I got to the lobby just as everyone was about to leave.
The Player's Club was very interesting and worth missing sleep over. It was a social joint for stage actors that was founded by Edwin Booth. Booth was a well-know actor in his time, but he is unfortunately more know for being the brother of John Wilkes Booth. The tour guide told us that if anyone in the room with Edwin Booth ever started talking about John Wilkes, he would just get up and leave without saying anything.
That night, we saw an Off-Broadway production of Clifford Odet's play "Paradise Lost." It was interesting to note how it looked like the single-set productions we did in college, but with WAY better actors. With this, I could definitely tell the difference between us amateurs and the real pros. Many of us had a long ways to go before reaching that level and very few of us, including myself, would ever attain that.
Wednesday morning, we took a tour of Radio City Music Hall. Seeing it on television doesn't really do the size of the venue enough justice. That place is HUGE. We got to go on the stage and under the stage. We saw the hydraulic system. It was so much more advanced than anything I would ever come across in my years of doing theatre.
Wednesday afternoon, we all had tickets to see "Torch Song Trilogy." This was not the original cast, but it was still extremely well-acted. I thought the actor playing the lead role was excellent. However, Dr. W said he was nowhere near as good as the original star. However, Dr. W did admit that the one thing this actor had going for him was that he was actually good-looking. A couple of the characters in the plays comment about how good-looking the guy is, and Dr. W did not thing the original actor was very good-looking.
In the middle of the second act, I realized I could hear someone snoring. I kind of thought it was funny, but then I realized I was the one snoring. I was so worn out from the last few days that I actually fell asleep during the performance. I was very embarassed and hoped that no one noticed. At the very least, no one gave me any dirty looks.
Some amazing stuff happened to me that Wednesday night. I will go more into detail about it on Monday.
For the remainder of this post, I want to mention an unusual situation that was taking place at the hotel where I was staying. There were families living in the rooms there. What was going on at the time was that the city was paying to house people whose apartment buildings had burned down. On of the other people on the tour said they had talked to a child who told them this was why they were living there. While I was in NYC, I saw a local news program that focused on the issue, in which there were several hotels that were being used as temporary residences for these fire victims. Some of the people who were living at the hotels said that while it was nice to be at the hotels, they really needed to be re-located to affordable housing and would rather the city pay for that instead of hotel rooms.
A little more than a year later, I saw a report on "60 Minutes" about people who were still staying at the hotels. Many of them who were at the cheaper motels were living in terrible conditions. The owners weren't doing any regular maintenance on the rooms. One woman had bugs crawling all over her food. She said that she would get a check from the city to cover the cost of the rent, but she had to immediately turn it over to the motel owner. She would rather be using that check to pay rent somewhere else.
A friend of mine in the Theatre Department said he couldn't wait to go to New York City to become an actor, where he could live somewhere that had bugs crawling all over the food. He had seen the same report.
It definitely made it hard for me to want to go to NYC to try to become a real actor. I'm glad I didn't try.
Monday, 03/12/84, was the day we did some sightseeing. We went down to the United Nations and took a tour. After that, we went to the World Trade Center, saw the stock market in action and went to the observation deck. At the time, I thought I would be making serveral trips to NYC and might go to the WTC on more than one occasion. I actually never went back and in the aftermath of 9/11, I was saddened that I would never scale the heights of the Manhattan skyline like that again. I never have been back to NYC since.
We didn't have any shows scheduled to attend that evening, so it was a free night for all of us. I decided to see what was available at the TKTS booth for half-price. When I got close to the front of the line, I saw that one of the shows with tickets available was "The Rink." This was early in the musical's run, so the original cast was still in it. I certain thought it was worth paying half-price to see these stars live. Following the performance, there was a lot of stuff going on that kept me up really late and I didn't get much sleep that night.
Tuesday morning, I had a hard time getting out of bed. Grad told me I needed to get up if I wanted to go to take the scheduled tour of the Player's Club. At first, I wanted to stay in the hotel and get some more sleep, but I figured that since this was one of the things that my parents had paid for on this tour, I should get up and go. I got to the lobby just as everyone was about to leave.
The Player's Club was very interesting and worth missing sleep over. It was a social joint for stage actors that was founded by Edwin Booth. Booth was a well-know actor in his time, but he is unfortunately more know for being the brother of John Wilkes Booth. The tour guide told us that if anyone in the room with Edwin Booth ever started talking about John Wilkes, he would just get up and leave without saying anything.
That night, we saw an Off-Broadway production of Clifford Odet's play "Paradise Lost." It was interesting to note how it looked like the single-set productions we did in college, but with WAY better actors. With this, I could definitely tell the difference between us amateurs and the real pros. Many of us had a long ways to go before reaching that level and very few of us, including myself, would ever attain that.
Wednesday morning, we took a tour of Radio City Music Hall. Seeing it on television doesn't really do the size of the venue enough justice. That place is HUGE. We got to go on the stage and under the stage. We saw the hydraulic system. It was so much more advanced than anything I would ever come across in my years of doing theatre.
Wednesday afternoon, we all had tickets to see "Torch Song Trilogy." This was not the original cast, but it was still extremely well-acted. I thought the actor playing the lead role was excellent. However, Dr. W said he was nowhere near as good as the original star. However, Dr. W did admit that the one thing this actor had going for him was that he was actually good-looking. A couple of the characters in the plays comment about how good-looking the guy is, and Dr. W did not thing the original actor was very good-looking.
In the middle of the second act, I realized I could hear someone snoring. I kind of thought it was funny, but then I realized I was the one snoring. I was so worn out from the last few days that I actually fell asleep during the performance. I was very embarassed and hoped that no one noticed. At the very least, no one gave me any dirty looks.
Some amazing stuff happened to me that Wednesday night. I will go more into detail about it on Monday.
For the remainder of this post, I want to mention an unusual situation that was taking place at the hotel where I was staying. There were families living in the rooms there. What was going on at the time was that the city was paying to house people whose apartment buildings had burned down. On of the other people on the tour said they had talked to a child who told them this was why they were living there. While I was in NYC, I saw a local news program that focused on the issue, in which there were several hotels that were being used as temporary residences for these fire victims. Some of the people who were living at the hotels said that while it was nice to be at the hotels, they really needed to be re-located to affordable housing and would rather the city pay for that instead of hotel rooms.
A little more than a year later, I saw a report on "60 Minutes" about people who were still staying at the hotels. Many of them who were at the cheaper motels were living in terrible conditions. The owners weren't doing any regular maintenance on the rooms. One woman had bugs crawling all over her food. She said that she would get a check from the city to cover the cost of the rent, but she had to immediately turn it over to the motel owner. She would rather be using that check to pay rent somewhere else.
A friend of mine in the Theatre Department said he couldn't wait to go to New York City to become an actor, where he could live somewhere that had bugs crawling all over the food. He had seen the same report.
It definitely made it hard for me to want to go to NYC to try to become a real actor. I'm glad I didn't try.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Spring Break in NYC, Part 2
On Sunday, 03/11/84, the second day of the New York City theatre tour, the group got up to go to brunch at Sardi's. This was, hands down, the best food I had ever eaten in my life up to this point. I was a picky eater and I normally wouldn't even look at a lot of the food they served, but it all tasted so good. It was almost like I was eating real food for the first time.
After brunch, the main item on the agenda was to see "Little Shop of Horrors" in the Soho section of NYC. In order to get there, we would have to take the subway. I was very scared of the prospect of taking public transportation. All I had heard were horror stories about bad things happening on the subway. I will tell you that for the whole week, not one unfortunate incident took place on the subway. But I also never rode alone. I always had one other person with me.
My TV production teacher, Dr. G, was on the tour. She used to live in New York and was very familiar with the city. At one point, Dr. G and I somehow got separated from the rest of the group on the subway. We started walking down toward Soho. I was freaking out because I thought we were going to be late for the performance. However, I found out later that the show started an hour later than I thought it did. We actually had plenty of time and made our way down to the venue. Along the way, Dr. G pointed out, "There's Grammercy Park." Grammercy Park? I knew about that park because I had read juvenile novels by Emily Cheney Neville when I was in junior high school. I said, "Oh! That's the private park!" Dr. G nodded.
We also passed Tower Records. I knew its reputation as the greatest record store in the world. I hoped I would be able to go there and check it out. We caught up to Dr. W and the rest of the tour at the "Little Shop" theatre. Rod was also there. We surprisingly still had some time to kill, so I found a pizza place nearby and got a slice. (Yeah, I ate a lot of pizza that week.)
After going inside the theatre and getting our seats, I was amazed at how small the stage was. At Artesia High School, we had a HUGE stage at the auditorium. As I found out at "A Chorus Line," the stage at my high school was larger than your average Broadway theatre. Our stage at Eastern New Mexiso University was probably about half the size of that. The "Little Shop" stage was probably one-fourth the size of the ENMU stage. I couldn't believe that they could mount a musical production on it, but they did. (The rest of this paragraph has a spoiler in it. Please skip to the next paragraph if you've never seen "Little Shop" on stage.) Another surprising thing about "Little Shop" was at the end of "Don't Feed the Plants," after Audrey II has taken over. On the last note, these cloth vines fell from the ceiling. It was a nice little jolt to end the show. This is one thing they would not be able to replicate in the movie or in most stage productions.
The tour didn't have anything planned for the rest of the day. Rod told us about what they had going on at the Off-Off-Broadway theatre he volunteered at. (Interestingly enough, that stage was larger than the one for "Little Shop.") Dr W said he would go and he encouraged us to see it as well. Many of the others went back to Midtown. I decided to stay and see the performance.
Prior to curtain, I literally had hours to kill, so I walked up to Tower Records and spent a lot of that extra time there. I went all over the store and found a couple of records to buy. There were a lot more records that I wanted, but every time I found the placard for those records, the slot was empty. When I got back close to Soho, It started snowing and blowing really hard. I ducked inside a door. When I looked up, I saw that I was inside the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU. The previous year, I had considered entering a program for playwrighting which had been recommended by Dr. R, but it was too expensive for me to go. I stood there for a few minutes, and thought, "Wow, I made it." However, there was a sign that prohibited trespassing, so I figured I'd better get out before someone called the cops on me.
I found a nearby restaurant where I could eat. I went inside and saw signs on the tables that said "$5 minimum for tables." I didn't know what that meant. I thought I would have to slap down $5 to sit at a table. The next day, I figured out that I needed to order at least $5 worth of food for me to sit at a table. I went and sat at the bar and ordered a meal. I went to the bathroom while I waited for the food. I came back and ate and spent some extra time looking at the records I had bought. This proved to be a challenge as I was trying to read the liner notes while sitting on a stool.
I paid and started to go outside. It was still cold, so I looked for my gloves. I couldn't find them. I realized I had left them in the bathroom. I went in there, but they were gone. I went back to the cashier and asked if anyone had turned in some gloves. No one did. I figured that someone just took them. That was my own fault. I was going to have to go the rest of the week without gloves, and they were really nice gloves, too. I walked all the way to the theatre with my hand rolled up inside my jacket sleeves and holding the bag of records. My hands were still cold.
The production we saw was a British comedy troupe called Bloolips. They put on this cabaret-style show with sketches and songs, but they were half-way doing it in drag. When I say "half-way," I mean they wore some women's clothing and had heavy make-up, but they weren't trying real hard to pass themselves off as women. I remember one of the guys had a butch haircut. And even though I was still a little bit of a homophobe at the time and was uncomfortable when the cast came out on stage, I did enjoy the show. One of the things that I recall was that after the intermission, one of the theatre producers made a plea for the audience to donate money to help keep the theatre group running. I was very uncomfortable with that, even more uncomfortable with being in the presence of so many gay people. I felt like I was being made to feel guilty for enjoying the presentation for which I had only paid $5. It was almost as bad as going to church and having them pass around the collection plate after we had already tithed for the month.
We went home on the subway. We had a full day ahead of us for the next day, which I will cover tomorrow.
After brunch, the main item on the agenda was to see "Little Shop of Horrors" in the Soho section of NYC. In order to get there, we would have to take the subway. I was very scared of the prospect of taking public transportation. All I had heard were horror stories about bad things happening on the subway. I will tell you that for the whole week, not one unfortunate incident took place on the subway. But I also never rode alone. I always had one other person with me.
My TV production teacher, Dr. G, was on the tour. She used to live in New York and was very familiar with the city. At one point, Dr. G and I somehow got separated from the rest of the group on the subway. We started walking down toward Soho. I was freaking out because I thought we were going to be late for the performance. However, I found out later that the show started an hour later than I thought it did. We actually had plenty of time and made our way down to the venue. Along the way, Dr. G pointed out, "There's Grammercy Park." Grammercy Park? I knew about that park because I had read juvenile novels by Emily Cheney Neville when I was in junior high school. I said, "Oh! That's the private park!" Dr. G nodded.
We also passed Tower Records. I knew its reputation as the greatest record store in the world. I hoped I would be able to go there and check it out. We caught up to Dr. W and the rest of the tour at the "Little Shop" theatre. Rod was also there. We surprisingly still had some time to kill, so I found a pizza place nearby and got a slice. (Yeah, I ate a lot of pizza that week.)
After going inside the theatre and getting our seats, I was amazed at how small the stage was. At Artesia High School, we had a HUGE stage at the auditorium. As I found out at "A Chorus Line," the stage at my high school was larger than your average Broadway theatre. Our stage at Eastern New Mexiso University was probably about half the size of that. The "Little Shop" stage was probably one-fourth the size of the ENMU stage. I couldn't believe that they could mount a musical production on it, but they did. (The rest of this paragraph has a spoiler in it. Please skip to the next paragraph if you've never seen "Little Shop" on stage.) Another surprising thing about "Little Shop" was at the end of "Don't Feed the Plants," after Audrey II has taken over. On the last note, these cloth vines fell from the ceiling. It was a nice little jolt to end the show. This is one thing they would not be able to replicate in the movie or in most stage productions.
The tour didn't have anything planned for the rest of the day. Rod told us about what they had going on at the Off-Off-Broadway theatre he volunteered at. (Interestingly enough, that stage was larger than the one for "Little Shop.") Dr W said he would go and he encouraged us to see it as well. Many of the others went back to Midtown. I decided to stay and see the performance.
Prior to curtain, I literally had hours to kill, so I walked up to Tower Records and spent a lot of that extra time there. I went all over the store and found a couple of records to buy. There were a lot more records that I wanted, but every time I found the placard for those records, the slot was empty. When I got back close to Soho, It started snowing and blowing really hard. I ducked inside a door. When I looked up, I saw that I was inside the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU. The previous year, I had considered entering a program for playwrighting which had been recommended by Dr. R, but it was too expensive for me to go. I stood there for a few minutes, and thought, "Wow, I made it." However, there was a sign that prohibited trespassing, so I figured I'd better get out before someone called the cops on me.
I found a nearby restaurant where I could eat. I went inside and saw signs on the tables that said "$5 minimum for tables." I didn't know what that meant. I thought I would have to slap down $5 to sit at a table. The next day, I figured out that I needed to order at least $5 worth of food for me to sit at a table. I went and sat at the bar and ordered a meal. I went to the bathroom while I waited for the food. I came back and ate and spent some extra time looking at the records I had bought. This proved to be a challenge as I was trying to read the liner notes while sitting on a stool.
I paid and started to go outside. It was still cold, so I looked for my gloves. I couldn't find them. I realized I had left them in the bathroom. I went in there, but they were gone. I went back to the cashier and asked if anyone had turned in some gloves. No one did. I figured that someone just took them. That was my own fault. I was going to have to go the rest of the week without gloves, and they were really nice gloves, too. I walked all the way to the theatre with my hand rolled up inside my jacket sleeves and holding the bag of records. My hands were still cold.
The production we saw was a British comedy troupe called Bloolips. They put on this cabaret-style show with sketches and songs, but they were half-way doing it in drag. When I say "half-way," I mean they wore some women's clothing and had heavy make-up, but they weren't trying real hard to pass themselves off as women. I remember one of the guys had a butch haircut. And even though I was still a little bit of a homophobe at the time and was uncomfortable when the cast came out on stage, I did enjoy the show. One of the things that I recall was that after the intermission, one of the theatre producers made a plea for the audience to donate money to help keep the theatre group running. I was very uncomfortable with that, even more uncomfortable with being in the presence of so many gay people. I felt like I was being made to feel guilty for enjoying the presentation for which I had only paid $5. It was almost as bad as going to church and having them pass around the collection plate after we had already tithed for the month.
We went home on the subway. We had a full day ahead of us for the next day, which I will cover tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Spring Break in NYC, Part 1
One of the greatest weeks in my life was going to New York City as part of a group trip in March of 1984. Every year, Dr. W organized the trip at Eastern New Mexico University, in which about 20 people would take part in a theatre tour of the city. We were scheduled to see several Broadway and Off-Broadway productions. We also did the typical touristy things like going to the Statue of Liberty, the United Nations and the World Trade Center.
I almost got to go in 1983. At almost the last minute, Mom and Dad said they would pay my way to be part of the trip. However, Dr. W had already filled up all the slots on the tour and advised me to take the money, put in the bank and hold on to it until next year. I didn't put any money in the bank, but Mom and Dad still paid for the trip in 1984. Mom also gave me one of her credit cards with a signed note that said it was okay for me to use it.
Originally, the plan called for me to get a ride with a couple of the other travelers up to the airport in Lubbock on Saturday morning, 03/10/84. My high school choir in Artesia was doing a performance of the musical "Anything Goes" that night. I wanted to go down and see it as it would include the last few members of the choir that I knew when I was in high school. Three other people, including Kird, actually wanted to come down with me for the road trip. On Friday, I went out and filled up my car with gas. Then, during a class at the Theatre building, Dr. W pulled me out to tell me that the people I was getting a ride with Saturday morning were actually leaving that evening and would be spending the night in Lubbock. He said I would probably have to pay for a motel room that night. I knew I had relatives in Lubbock, so I told him I would probably get to spend the night with them instead. I immediately called Mom to get the phone number for her cousin. I called him and he was willing to let me stay, especially since one of his kids wasn't going to be there that night, so there would be an open bed.
The people giving me a ride came and picked me up. It was a woman and her brother. The woman was going on the trip and the brother was just driving us. We didn't talk much during the first part of the trip. After awhile, we started opening up a little more and conversing, but not about anything really important. The woman was a graudate student at ENMU, but I don't remember much else about her.
They dropped me off at my relative's. His youngest daughter was the only other person at the house. It was time for bed, but I couldn't go to sleep. I was much too excited about the next day. It also didn't help that the mattress had a plastic covering on it and the girl had her radio blasting all night long.
The morning arrived and I took a shower. My relative drove me to the airport. Dr W was there with some of the other people on the tour. It turned out I was the only actual Theatre student on the trip. The others were older people from the area and some of them worked at ENMU. We checked our luggage, got our tickets and got on the plane. We were flying to Dallas, where we would get a connecting flight to New York City. On the first flight, we were given these danishes for breakfast. They were as hard as a rock. On the flight from Dallas, we had omelets. I remember there being mushrooms and other vegetables inside. I actually enjoyed it, but the woman I drove up with didn't care for it too much.
When we started our approach to NYC, I could see the city through the windows. I kept thinking, "Hurry up and land this plane already! What are you waiting for?" We landed and went to baggage claim. Since I'm really inexperienced with travel, I stood right by the little door from which the luggage would enter the claim area. I was kind of paranoid about being in the big city. My two pieces of luggage came through. Everyone else on the tour got their luggage and we were ready to go. The plan was that shuttles were going to take us to our hotel. We waited for an hour for the shuttles to arrive, but they never did. The whole time, Dr. W was on the payphone trying to get a hold of the travel agent who he had hired to get all this stuff ready. The agent kept assuring him that the shuttles were on the way. Dr. W gave up and had us go out and hail cabs to take us to the hotel.
We rode six to a cab. Those of us in my cab were fortunate in that we arrived without any problems. One of the others had the front bumper fall off and all the men had to get out of the cab to lift it off the street and put it back into place. Another cab was spewing so many fumes that one of the women inside got really sick. So sick, in fact, that she had to stay in the hotel the whole time and didn't get to do anything. Her husband got to do all the stuff, but she didn't. A couple of months later, she was still feeling the effects of the pollution. This could have been avoided if those shuttles had arrived as promised. Dr. W was furious about this. This was the first time in several years of tours that the group had to take taxis from the airport.
When we arrived at the hotel, I started to get out of the car. I was on the right side and opened the passenger door. The first thing I saw was a bunch of cars passing by just inches away. I closed the door and said, "I guess I'm not getting out on this side." One of the other people in the car, who had been to NYC before said, "No, you NEVER get out on the street side."
We went up to our rooms. I shared a room with this guy named Grad. I knew Grad because he played one of the guards in "The King and I." I didn't realize it at the time, but Grad was actually Dr. W's longtime companion and was mentioned in his obituary as someone who was survived by him. At the time, I had a feeling Grad was gay, but my liberal homophobic attitude at the time was "unless you actually say or do something that obviously indicates you're gay, I'm going to act like you're straight."
It was snowing outside, and I didn't feel like rushing out into the cold. I turned on the TV and the movie "Stairway to Heaven" was on. (Otherwise known as "A Matter of Life and Death.") It held my attention for the time being. One of the interesting things about the presentation was the bumpers the TV station had during commercials. They featured a helicopter shot of the Empire State Building with an instrumental version of "Theme from 'New York, New York.'" Grad kept coming in and out of the room. I'm certain he was thinking, "We're in NYC! You didn't come all the way over here to watch TV." But he never said it.
After the movie was over, I went with Grad and Dr. R into Times Square, which was a couple of blocks from the hotel. It was a truly stunning sight. I had seen this on TV and the movies my entire life, and now, I was in the middle of it. Dr. W took us to the TKTS booth. The group didn't have any performances for that night, so we were free to do what we wanted. I wanted to see "A Chorus Line" for my first Broadway experience and hoped to get a half-price ticket for that night. After waiting in line a few minutes, Grad came up and told me that they ran out of "A Chorus Line" tickets. Dr. W told me that if I still wanted to see it, I could pay full price at the theatre. I went there and got a single ticket.
There was still some time to kill before that evening's performance. Rod showed up to see Dr. W. I don't know if he knew ahead of time that I was coming, but he didn't seem surprised to see me. Those of us hanging out in Times Square went out and got slices of pizza at this one restaurant. I remember seeing Rod fold his slice in half while eating it. I thought he had become a real New Yorker.
I went to see "A Chorus Line" and was mostly surprised at how there was so much more music than there was on the original cast album. It was really nice to hear a lot of the material that I was not familiar with. I went back to the hotel and slept very well that night.
The next morning, I woke up and got ready to take a shower. I realized that I had left my bottle of shampoo/conditioner at my relative's house. I had to use the little complimentary hotel soaps as shampoo for the whole week.
More on NYC tomorrow.
I almost got to go in 1983. At almost the last minute, Mom and Dad said they would pay my way to be part of the trip. However, Dr. W had already filled up all the slots on the tour and advised me to take the money, put in the bank and hold on to it until next year. I didn't put any money in the bank, but Mom and Dad still paid for the trip in 1984. Mom also gave me one of her credit cards with a signed note that said it was okay for me to use it.
Originally, the plan called for me to get a ride with a couple of the other travelers up to the airport in Lubbock on Saturday morning, 03/10/84. My high school choir in Artesia was doing a performance of the musical "Anything Goes" that night. I wanted to go down and see it as it would include the last few members of the choir that I knew when I was in high school. Three other people, including Kird, actually wanted to come down with me for the road trip. On Friday, I went out and filled up my car with gas. Then, during a class at the Theatre building, Dr. W pulled me out to tell me that the people I was getting a ride with Saturday morning were actually leaving that evening and would be spending the night in Lubbock. He said I would probably have to pay for a motel room that night. I knew I had relatives in Lubbock, so I told him I would probably get to spend the night with them instead. I immediately called Mom to get the phone number for her cousin. I called him and he was willing to let me stay, especially since one of his kids wasn't going to be there that night, so there would be an open bed.
The people giving me a ride came and picked me up. It was a woman and her brother. The woman was going on the trip and the brother was just driving us. We didn't talk much during the first part of the trip. After awhile, we started opening up a little more and conversing, but not about anything really important. The woman was a graudate student at ENMU, but I don't remember much else about her.
They dropped me off at my relative's. His youngest daughter was the only other person at the house. It was time for bed, but I couldn't go to sleep. I was much too excited about the next day. It also didn't help that the mattress had a plastic covering on it and the girl had her radio blasting all night long.
The morning arrived and I took a shower. My relative drove me to the airport. Dr W was there with some of the other people on the tour. It turned out I was the only actual Theatre student on the trip. The others were older people from the area and some of them worked at ENMU. We checked our luggage, got our tickets and got on the plane. We were flying to Dallas, where we would get a connecting flight to New York City. On the first flight, we were given these danishes for breakfast. They were as hard as a rock. On the flight from Dallas, we had omelets. I remember there being mushrooms and other vegetables inside. I actually enjoyed it, but the woman I drove up with didn't care for it too much.
When we started our approach to NYC, I could see the city through the windows. I kept thinking, "Hurry up and land this plane already! What are you waiting for?" We landed and went to baggage claim. Since I'm really inexperienced with travel, I stood right by the little door from which the luggage would enter the claim area. I was kind of paranoid about being in the big city. My two pieces of luggage came through. Everyone else on the tour got their luggage and we were ready to go. The plan was that shuttles were going to take us to our hotel. We waited for an hour for the shuttles to arrive, but they never did. The whole time, Dr. W was on the payphone trying to get a hold of the travel agent who he had hired to get all this stuff ready. The agent kept assuring him that the shuttles were on the way. Dr. W gave up and had us go out and hail cabs to take us to the hotel.
We rode six to a cab. Those of us in my cab were fortunate in that we arrived without any problems. One of the others had the front bumper fall off and all the men had to get out of the cab to lift it off the street and put it back into place. Another cab was spewing so many fumes that one of the women inside got really sick. So sick, in fact, that she had to stay in the hotel the whole time and didn't get to do anything. Her husband got to do all the stuff, but she didn't. A couple of months later, she was still feeling the effects of the pollution. This could have been avoided if those shuttles had arrived as promised. Dr. W was furious about this. This was the first time in several years of tours that the group had to take taxis from the airport.
When we arrived at the hotel, I started to get out of the car. I was on the right side and opened the passenger door. The first thing I saw was a bunch of cars passing by just inches away. I closed the door and said, "I guess I'm not getting out on this side." One of the other people in the car, who had been to NYC before said, "No, you NEVER get out on the street side."
We went up to our rooms. I shared a room with this guy named Grad. I knew Grad because he played one of the guards in "The King and I." I didn't realize it at the time, but Grad was actually Dr. W's longtime companion and was mentioned in his obituary as someone who was survived by him. At the time, I had a feeling Grad was gay, but my liberal homophobic attitude at the time was "unless you actually say or do something that obviously indicates you're gay, I'm going to act like you're straight."
It was snowing outside, and I didn't feel like rushing out into the cold. I turned on the TV and the movie "Stairway to Heaven" was on. (Otherwise known as "A Matter of Life and Death.") It held my attention for the time being. One of the interesting things about the presentation was the bumpers the TV station had during commercials. They featured a helicopter shot of the Empire State Building with an instrumental version of "Theme from 'New York, New York.'" Grad kept coming in and out of the room. I'm certain he was thinking, "We're in NYC! You didn't come all the way over here to watch TV." But he never said it.
After the movie was over, I went with Grad and Dr. R into Times Square, which was a couple of blocks from the hotel. It was a truly stunning sight. I had seen this on TV and the movies my entire life, and now, I was in the middle of it. Dr. W took us to the TKTS booth. The group didn't have any performances for that night, so we were free to do what we wanted. I wanted to see "A Chorus Line" for my first Broadway experience and hoped to get a half-price ticket for that night. After waiting in line a few minutes, Grad came up and told me that they ran out of "A Chorus Line" tickets. Dr. W told me that if I still wanted to see it, I could pay full price at the theatre. I went there and got a single ticket.
There was still some time to kill before that evening's performance. Rod showed up to see Dr. W. I don't know if he knew ahead of time that I was coming, but he didn't seem surprised to see me. Those of us hanging out in Times Square went out and got slices of pizza at this one restaurant. I remember seeing Rod fold his slice in half while eating it. I thought he had become a real New Yorker.
I went to see "A Chorus Line" and was mostly surprised at how there was so much more music than there was on the original cast album. It was really nice to hear a lot of the material that I was not familiar with. I went back to the hotel and slept very well that night.
The next morning, I woke up and got ready to take a shower. I realized that I had left my bottle of shampoo/conditioner at my relative's house. I had to use the little complimentary hotel soaps as shampoo for the whole week.
More on NYC tomorrow.
Monday, January 5, 2015
A couple of dreary Christmases
I refrained from writing this article before the holidays because I didn't want to be such a downer. There are very few things stranger than having to attend funerals around Christmastime.
I had previously written about the Chruddy Christmas I experienced in 1979. I left out the part in which my family had to attend the funeral of one of Dad's cousins. This was the same cousin Mom, Loyd and I had stayed with in Albuquerque, NM in the summer of 1971 before we flew to meet Dad in Portland, OR. She had shot herself in the head around Albuquerque a few days before Christmas. Supposedly, she had just broken up with her boyfriend, and had taken some drugs and drank alcohol. I never really got the full story. I only remember meeting her that one time, but I had met her parents on several occasions.
The funeral was held in Truth or Consequences, NM, where her parents lived. This would be the first time I attended the funeral of someone I barely knew. We went to the church and gathered with the family members outside in the lobby. Everyone seemed rather calm and no one was crying. Right before the funeral began, we all walked into the temple and sat in the middle section. There were a lot of other people seated in the outer sections. I remember feeling that the other people were looking at us and thinking, "Oh, those are her family members. They're the ones who knew her the best. They must be really torn up about this." I didn't like that people I didn't know were possibly thinking that about me when they probably knew her better that I ever would.
At the end of the service, the casket was taken back to the lobby and opened up. Some of the other family members had seen the body in the funeral parlor and commented about how they could see the black marks from the gunpowder on the side of her face. When I walked past the casket, I didn't see any black marks, but it was apparent that they had put on a great deal of make-up to cover that up. Before the funeral, I saw a Christmas card from years earlier that she, her husband at the time and their two daughters appeared on. I remembered this card because it was done like a postcard with a photo of the family on it. The two girls and the ex-husband were at the services. The girls had been living with the mother when she committed suicide. Now, they were going to have to go live with her father. I remember one of the family members saying something to the effect that it was going to be difficult for the father to adjust to having to raise the two girls by himself.
I also remember the funeral procession. It's the first time I'd ever have to go on the highway to get to the gravesite. I felt that the people behind caught behind the procession on the highway were getting mad because they were trying to get home for Christmas Eve and we were clogging up the main thoroughfare.
I would get to experience that again four years later in December of 1983. That woman's father passed away of natural causes right before Christmas. Unlike his daughter, I actually remember him very well as they had come over to our house a few times. I didn't mind being considered part of the family this time. My father and I made the trip. Mom and Loyd didn't come with us. I remember having to plan out the trip as the route to Truth or Consequences. We had to go through Alamogordo. I had hoped by some chance, we would run into Loz while we were there. I was still rather hung up on her at the time.
The service was held at the same church. Dad and I were pallbearers. This was the first time I had gotten to be a pallbearer. There were six of us and we got to ride in a limo from the church to the gravesite, stalling the same highway. I didn't really know the other four guys. Since we didn't drive to the gravesite, Dad and I hitched a ride back in the limo to get our car at the church. I recall that it was rather sunny and warm most of the day, but as soon as the graveside services were over, it started getting cloudy and snowed. Afterward, we drove back and stopped in Alamogordo for ice cream. I still did not run into Loz.
One of the things I recalled about the service was that when the obituary was read, they mentioned that one of his survivors was his mother-in-law. This was my Great-Grandmother Owd, who lived in Grady, NM, close to Grandma Ogolon, her daughter. After Dad and I got home that night, we found out that Great-Grandmother Owd had died. The services would take place the day after Christmas.
So, a little background on my great-grandmother: I never got to know her very well. Dad would take us to her house in Grady every once in awhile. She never really seemed that happy to see her great-grandchildren. Anytime we did go to see her, we were usually only there for about 15 minutes. I remember the old-timey feel of her living room, as if she hadn't moved a piece of furniture or a picture in the last 30 years. I also don't recall going anywhere in her house, except for the living room. That means I never even went to the bathroom there.
After she passed away, Dad explained that she was a very mean and bitter old woman who coerced everyone to do things her way. Once, the merchantile owner in Grady didn't have enough money to cash her Social Security check, so she made him drive to Clovis to cash it. He had to close his store to do that. Dad used to talk about how his father complained that she picked the one in-law she hated the most to live close to.
My father and I were also pallbearers for this funeral. There was snow on the ground from Christmas. After the service, we went out to the gravesite and the wind suddenly started blowing. It was bitter cold. I was wearing a suit, but no warm jacket, so I started shivering. The preacher just kept going and going. Mom came up and held me to give me a little warmth. Dad commented that Great-Grandma Owd went to her grave making everyone feel miserable.
I'm lucky that I've never had another holiday season interrupted by a funeral since.
I had previously written about the Chruddy Christmas I experienced in 1979. I left out the part in which my family had to attend the funeral of one of Dad's cousins. This was the same cousin Mom, Loyd and I had stayed with in Albuquerque, NM in the summer of 1971 before we flew to meet Dad in Portland, OR. She had shot herself in the head around Albuquerque a few days before Christmas. Supposedly, she had just broken up with her boyfriend, and had taken some drugs and drank alcohol. I never really got the full story. I only remember meeting her that one time, but I had met her parents on several occasions.
The funeral was held in Truth or Consequences, NM, where her parents lived. This would be the first time I attended the funeral of someone I barely knew. We went to the church and gathered with the family members outside in the lobby. Everyone seemed rather calm and no one was crying. Right before the funeral began, we all walked into the temple and sat in the middle section. There were a lot of other people seated in the outer sections. I remember feeling that the other people were looking at us and thinking, "Oh, those are her family members. They're the ones who knew her the best. They must be really torn up about this." I didn't like that people I didn't know were possibly thinking that about me when they probably knew her better that I ever would.
At the end of the service, the casket was taken back to the lobby and opened up. Some of the other family members had seen the body in the funeral parlor and commented about how they could see the black marks from the gunpowder on the side of her face. When I walked past the casket, I didn't see any black marks, but it was apparent that they had put on a great deal of make-up to cover that up. Before the funeral, I saw a Christmas card from years earlier that she, her husband at the time and their two daughters appeared on. I remembered this card because it was done like a postcard with a photo of the family on it. The two girls and the ex-husband were at the services. The girls had been living with the mother when she committed suicide. Now, they were going to have to go live with her father. I remember one of the family members saying something to the effect that it was going to be difficult for the father to adjust to having to raise the two girls by himself.
I also remember the funeral procession. It's the first time I'd ever have to go on the highway to get to the gravesite. I felt that the people behind caught behind the procession on the highway were getting mad because they were trying to get home for Christmas Eve and we were clogging up the main thoroughfare.
I would get to experience that again four years later in December of 1983. That woman's father passed away of natural causes right before Christmas. Unlike his daughter, I actually remember him very well as they had come over to our house a few times. I didn't mind being considered part of the family this time. My father and I made the trip. Mom and Loyd didn't come with us. I remember having to plan out the trip as the route to Truth or Consequences. We had to go through Alamogordo. I had hoped by some chance, we would run into Loz while we were there. I was still rather hung up on her at the time.
The service was held at the same church. Dad and I were pallbearers. This was the first time I had gotten to be a pallbearer. There were six of us and we got to ride in a limo from the church to the gravesite, stalling the same highway. I didn't really know the other four guys. Since we didn't drive to the gravesite, Dad and I hitched a ride back in the limo to get our car at the church. I recall that it was rather sunny and warm most of the day, but as soon as the graveside services were over, it started getting cloudy and snowed. Afterward, we drove back and stopped in Alamogordo for ice cream. I still did not run into Loz.
One of the things I recalled about the service was that when the obituary was read, they mentioned that one of his survivors was his mother-in-law. This was my Great-Grandmother Owd, who lived in Grady, NM, close to Grandma Ogolon, her daughter. After Dad and I got home that night, we found out that Great-Grandmother Owd had died. The services would take place the day after Christmas.
So, a little background on my great-grandmother: I never got to know her very well. Dad would take us to her house in Grady every once in awhile. She never really seemed that happy to see her great-grandchildren. Anytime we did go to see her, we were usually only there for about 15 minutes. I remember the old-timey feel of her living room, as if she hadn't moved a piece of furniture or a picture in the last 30 years. I also don't recall going anywhere in her house, except for the living room. That means I never even went to the bathroom there.
After she passed away, Dad explained that she was a very mean and bitter old woman who coerced everyone to do things her way. Once, the merchantile owner in Grady didn't have enough money to cash her Social Security check, so she made him drive to Clovis to cash it. He had to close his store to do that. Dad used to talk about how his father complained that she picked the one in-law she hated the most to live close to.
My father and I were also pallbearers for this funeral. There was snow on the ground from Christmas. After the service, we went out to the gravesite and the wind suddenly started blowing. It was bitter cold. I was wearing a suit, but no warm jacket, so I started shivering. The preacher just kept going and going. Mom came up and held me to give me a little warmth. Dad commented that Great-Grandma Owd went to her grave making everyone feel miserable.
I'm lucky that I've never had another holiday season interrupted by a funeral since.
Friday, January 2, 2015
I'm in the mood for a LOT of pizza
One of the great joys in life is gorging myself on pizza, but I know my limits.
One of my Facebook friends once wrote that he bought a large pizza and thought he would have enough leftovers for a couple of lunches, but he ate the whole thing in one sitting.
One of my Facebook friends once wrote that he bought a large pizza and thought he would have enough leftovers for a couple of lunches, but he ate the whole thing in one sitting.
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