Opening night is always nervous and always eventful. The day started with one thing and one thing only, football. Holland v Denmark to be more precise, the plan was to watch the first half in bed at 7:30 then place my faith in the New York Subway to make it to a bar by the theatre for the second half before nipping off to a dress rehearsal.
The first half was easy to watch and as the whistle blew to finish the end of the 45 I rushed out with my bag packed and made it to the subway station in record time, then I waited for a train.... and waited and waited. The stupid fucking N train was making me miss the Oranje labor in the heat, grrrrrr. Once the train did arrive it was packed full of commuters and businessmen, I stood out like a ore thumb with my Shakespeare script and flip-flops.
The train pulled into Times Square I shoved past an old lady and pegged it to a bar called The Irish Rogue. I expected to be greeted by a wave of Orange Dutch fans, instead I saw 3 Englishmen in faded orange and a skinny waif like Irish bartender who looked like she needed a decent meal. I started to question why I was trying to watch all the games.
After another borefest at this World Cup I skipped off to my dress rehearsal. There was one problem, it looked like I would miss Cameroon v Japan (arguably the biggest game of the tournament) so I had to make a decision, did I miss the first half of the play to watch the game (all I do is a scene change, I’m not onstage until act 2) or do I stay and make my scene change. Well it turned out I was able to do both, I was able to employ members of the cast to text me when it was time for the scene change.
So I sat in the bar with an American man who was less knowledgeable about football than my Mum. The man was a fool/ Every single point he made was ridiculous and every ‘fact’ he wheeled out was so wide of the mark it made me feel sick. The football was shit too. Thank god my phone buzzed, I legged it upstairs and made the scene change. Alas the idiot and the useless football awaited me back in the bar, so with a heavy heart I trudged back to the bar for an assault on my eyes and ears from Cameroon, Japan and America’s favorite fact-finder.
The show itself went really well, yet funnier than some of Shakespeare’s finest work were the events that occurred at the theatre below me. There was a showcase for some high school kids who couldn’t grasp the concept of keeping quiet as our show was on. The kids were great comedy value though. After their first performance a slightly heavier teenager sat on the stage and started crying because she had messed up a song. Her friend (still in the closet) minced around her trying to make her feel better but her diva ways couldn’t be cured. She thumped up the stairs like a distressed Elephant and sulked in her dressing room. She then emerged and asked us what play we were doing ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ I replied, then with a knowing smile she looked at me and said ‘Shakespeare.’ Well of course it’s Shakespeare you tubby attention seeking whore!
Anyways by all accounts she seemed happier by the end of her second performance.
Back to the football now and Katlin has taken a shine to North Korea. Maybe it’s because I forced her to watch a documentary about the country at 2 in the morning when she wanted to sleep, maybe it’s their fake Chinese fans or maybe she has a thing for Asians, time will tell.
Sir Doctor Henry Mitchell (aka Jake Wiseman) arrives in a few hours to further help me with the challenge, some medical advice will be appreciated.
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