I don't have a clever opening. Deal with it.
Last night, we stayed with the principal of the first school we did a show for. He was a very nice and gregarious older man with a thing for orchids. We had to sort of hunker down and be inconspicuous for most of the night as they were hosting a weekly prayer group (and everyone knows that actors are all godless heathens), but I was more than happy to settle in with all the comic books that I purchased using the (entire) per diem that we had saved by staying for free. (For the record, the books I bought were the first trade of Fables, the second of Locke and Key and a copy of Green River Killer: A True Detective Story. I finished the first two of the three that evening.
As it turns out, I have to say the principal and his wife were a couple of the freaking nicest people I have probably ever met. They have this amazing backyard that they built for their kids and grandkids including two story-high towers with a rope swing between them and THREE TREEHOUSES. Yes, that's right. Three of them. They apparently also invite kids over from a local "kid ranch" (orphanage? correctional facility? Your guess is as good as mine.) on a regular basis just to come and hang out and play on their insane backyard obstacle course. Heck, when I left this morning and forgot to grab the small bag of food I had purchased (I'm getting kind of sick of always eating in random restaurants.) they called me after my shows and DROVE TO MY HOTEL TO DROP IT OFF. Seriously, these people are ridiculous. In the best possible way ever.
Granted, it is a little hard to have my whitebread, children's performer persona turned to eleven all night (me trying to explain my pole dancing classes to them without actually using the phrase "pole dancing" was pretty amazing, if I do say so myself), but I can do it for a few nights out of the week if it means my own room and decent wifi. Also, lasagna. And carrot cake. And coffee and yogurt in the morning.
So! On to the shows! Today was our first two-school day. Meaning, we did a show in the morning at one school, loaded up, and drove to a second school to do it all over again. Doing two shows in a row is pretty exhausting, but it's the loading and unloading of the set, lights and sound system over and over again that tends to mess you up the most. My neck is currently reminding me that I should really be doing more yoga...
The shows themselves went... alright. Honestly, neither of them were particularly good. Nothing was bad, mind you, but they weren't the best we've done by a long shot and that pissed me off. Maybe I'm doing this wrong, but I sincerely want to give every single school we visit an experience that will stick with the kids for years after we've left. I remember seeing the same company when I was in school and thinking it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. I've never felt quite this much pressure to be epically awesome on a show before, but it's not stressing me out so much as pushing me to do my absolute best every single time. So I'm keeping it. The pressure, that is. I just wish I could get my tour partner on the same page... Oh, well. He's not bad at all, I just don't get the feeling that he really cares as much as I do. But perhaps my level of care is slightly unrealistic, so I can't really blame him. I'll just be wistful instead.
For our last night of this run, we've ended up in a Quality Inn. Much, much nicer than our norm, but it was the only thing even vaguely within our price range anywhere near the school. I'm secretly kind of pleased, though. It's still technically within the limits of our per diem and it has fancy things like an indoor pool and hot tub and a free breakfast that I plan on pillaging enough out of to feed me for the rest of the day and beyond. I'm currently fantasizing about all the amazing things that hot tub is going to do to my neck and it's one of the hottest fantasies I've had all day. Sad, but true.
And on that note, I'm going to finish eating my fine dinner of WinCo nectarines and cheese and hit said hot tub until it cries "Uncle." Or I do. You know, whichever comes first.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
It Has Begun
So. Yes. To begin with, I should have started this blog much earlier than I did. But it's going to begin from the middle and you're going to be cool with that. So there.
Background info: if you didn't know already, I am currently employed by an awesome company to do children's puppet shows in elementary schools and public venues in southeastern Washington, central Oregon, southern Idaho and northern California. It is a rad job. Basically, I drive around a big, white van with one other dude that is full of sets, puppets, lights and speakers. We roll up to a location, do a full show (running lights and sound while doing the show), sometimes do a workshop afterward and then roll on to the next location. I have never done puppetry before. I have never toured a show before. This is all quite exciting, etc.
Day one was... interesting. We drove out to Washington's scenic Tri-Cities (Richland, Kennewick and Pasco for the uninitiated) the night before our first show. The plan was to camp outside the city a ways to save a little extra money since our show wasn't until the following afternoon. We got a lovely campsite in Burbank which was right on the river. It was also directly next to the dumpster, but one tries not to nitpick. The campsite was primarily tenanted by drunkenly jovial old people in RVs that were bewildered that a campsite was being shared by two members of opposite sexes who were sleeping in two separate tents; I gave up trying to explain after a while and just let them continue meandering on to the next RV.
Having a bit of extra time in the evening, we decided to drive into Pasco to try out whatever nightlife was happening there on a Monday. Turns out, quite a bit; albeit the super-sketchy kind. As soon as we entered the tavern, we were met by an extremely gregarious older gentleman with a lazy eye who proceeded to tell us about his time in prison for "some stupid traffic thing" until the desperately bored-looking bartendress told him to leave us alone so we could order. We each got a beer and my tour partner asked about food. He got quite excited when he saw the menu, but when he asked if he could order the biscuits and gravy, the bartender looked him straight in the eye and said simply, "I wouldn't."
Advice heeded, he left to track down an ATM. During the inordinately long time he was gone (apparently there is only one ATM in town and it is arguably the most popular meeting spot), I was treated to a fantastic parade of local color that included grind-dancing drug addicts, vomiting grandmothers and Two and A Half Men. It was quite the evening.
Food and drink achieved, we headed back to the campsite to bed down. It was a lovely night until 4am, when the sprinklers turned on and proceeded to soak my tent for an hour straight. I waited out the barrage of wasted water, moved my soggy tent to higher ground and set up camp in the passenger seat of the van (which, due to our sets and sound equipment, was unable to lay back). All I can say is thank goodness for the extra wool blanket my mother insisted I take along "just in case." It was still a pretty uncomfortable night, I must admit.
All whining aside, I survived the night and most of my things managed to stay dryish (other than tent, sleeping bag and pad thingy). In good spirits and fortified by Denny's coffee and eggs, we headed to the local elementary school. Despite some miscommunication about where we were supposed to set up and a couple of very minor technical glitches, the show went quite well. The kids were super stoked, and our director who had met us at the school to make sure we didn't do anything too embarrassing was very pleased.
I am now safely ensconced in a motel room that smells strongly of chemicals (better than the alternative) and which, I am pleased to report, has no sprinklers in sight. My plans include returning phone calls, bothering my gentleman friend (who I seem to be missing a bit more than I had thought and much more than I would care to admit), watching something stupid on my computer and passing out in order to do it all again at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow. In summation: this beats the living hell out of working at the call center.
Background info: if you didn't know already, I am currently employed by an awesome company to do children's puppet shows in elementary schools and public venues in southeastern Washington, central Oregon, southern Idaho and northern California. It is a rad job. Basically, I drive around a big, white van with one other dude that is full of sets, puppets, lights and speakers. We roll up to a location, do a full show (running lights and sound while doing the show), sometimes do a workshop afterward and then roll on to the next location. I have never done puppetry before. I have never toured a show before. This is all quite exciting, etc.
Day one was... interesting. We drove out to Washington's scenic Tri-Cities (Richland, Kennewick and Pasco for the uninitiated) the night before our first show. The plan was to camp outside the city a ways to save a little extra money since our show wasn't until the following afternoon. We got a lovely campsite in Burbank which was right on the river. It was also directly next to the dumpster, but one tries not to nitpick. The campsite was primarily tenanted by drunkenly jovial old people in RVs that were bewildered that a campsite was being shared by two members of opposite sexes who were sleeping in two separate tents; I gave up trying to explain after a while and just let them continue meandering on to the next RV.
Having a bit of extra time in the evening, we decided to drive into Pasco to try out whatever nightlife was happening there on a Monday. Turns out, quite a bit; albeit the super-sketchy kind. As soon as we entered the tavern, we were met by an extremely gregarious older gentleman with a lazy eye who proceeded to tell us about his time in prison for "some stupid traffic thing" until the desperately bored-looking bartendress told him to leave us alone so we could order. We each got a beer and my tour partner asked about food. He got quite excited when he saw the menu, but when he asked if he could order the biscuits and gravy, the bartender looked him straight in the eye and said simply, "I wouldn't."
Advice heeded, he left to track down an ATM. During the inordinately long time he was gone (apparently there is only one ATM in town and it is arguably the most popular meeting spot), I was treated to a fantastic parade of local color that included grind-dancing drug addicts, vomiting grandmothers and Two and A Half Men. It was quite the evening.
Food and drink achieved, we headed back to the campsite to bed down. It was a lovely night until 4am, when the sprinklers turned on and proceeded to soak my tent for an hour straight. I waited out the barrage of wasted water, moved my soggy tent to higher ground and set up camp in the passenger seat of the van (which, due to our sets and sound equipment, was unable to lay back). All I can say is thank goodness for the extra wool blanket my mother insisted I take along "just in case." It was still a pretty uncomfortable night, I must admit.
All whining aside, I survived the night and most of my things managed to stay dryish (other than tent, sleeping bag and pad thingy). In good spirits and fortified by Denny's coffee and eggs, we headed to the local elementary school. Despite some miscommunication about where we were supposed to set up and a couple of very minor technical glitches, the show went quite well. The kids were super stoked, and our director who had met us at the school to make sure we didn't do anything too embarrassing was very pleased.
I am now safely ensconced in a motel room that smells strongly of chemicals (better than the alternative) and which, I am pleased to report, has no sprinklers in sight. My plans include returning phone calls, bothering my gentleman friend (who I seem to be missing a bit more than I had thought and much more than I would care to admit), watching something stupid on my computer and passing out in order to do it all again at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow. In summation: this beats the living hell out of working at the call center.
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