My Week Begins at the End

It was a long weekend in Hillcrest, but a good one.

On Saturday morning, I took a shuttle bus from Balboa Park to a University Avenue apartment where friends were hosting a parade-watching shindig. By mid-morning, three straight women, two straight men, and one gay guy were hanging over the balcony, mimosas and muffins in hand, to ogle.

The parade began at the corner of University and Normal, only paces away from the apartment. In the pre-show hour, our token homo affectionately pointed out the "dykes on bikes" waiting at the corner to start the parade. At 11:00, they would take a right-hand turn onto University and begin the festivities.

Once they did, our view best caught floats rounding the corner and riders transitioning from "are we there yet?" to "we're on!" It was a fine position for watching the parade, but it wasn't a boon for photo taking. For that, we were on the wrong side of a median which separated the parade from us by a distance that could only be overcome by a good zoom lens. But the surprise was that even sans obstacles, the parade wasn't a photographer's dream. Apparently, drag queens and maribou aren't what your average gay men and women want representing the lifestyle.

Still, it was a fun afternoon shared with good company.

By early evening, we scattered to our respective shows and rehearsals. With my car stranded in Balboa Park, I walked a few blocks to catch a late lunch at St. Tropez, then another few blocks to David's Coffee House for the first meeting of Instant Theatre.

There was a nice turnout, but not the number our producer had planned for. As groups were being formed, writers and directors were asked to pull double-duty to compensate for the shortage of actors. A shortage of actors: a sure sign of the apocolypse.

I was surprised to find myself among the oldest members of the company, and deflated when I was grouped with the youngest among them. I was comforted to discover that our writer, at least, was my age. As we walked from David's Coffee House to Cindy's place to start writing, my conversation with Matt quickly took a surreal turn. Within 6 steps we went from exchanging pleasantries to discussing a mutual friend from Nashville. It went something like this:

Matt: So, where have you been acting?
Kelly: Well, I've done a few community shows here, but I've done the bulk of my acting in Nashville, so you probably haven't heard of...
Matt: I know some places in Nashville. Where?
Kelly: Well, Chaffin's Barn Dinner Theatre,
Mystery.Comedy....
Matt: Chaffin's Barn? Do you know Richard Daniel?
(A moment of stunned silence)
Kelly: Yes....

Talk about a small world. Not only do I know Richard, I was once poised to date him. It never happened; I started dating Brian after Richard left Nashville to work a months-long acting contract on a cruise ship. On that contract, and on the one following -- before and after Richard knew about Brian -- Matt was his acting partner. "Oh... so you're the girl..."

Sigh.

Matt, who would have a conflict on Sunday, was assigned to co-write with a girl named Traci. Our first meeting was painful. As I sat quietly listening to everyone's input and argument over story ideas, I couldn't help thinking about the old saying "a camel is a horse built by committee." Judging by this group, I thought, that committee had done a damn fine job. I was the first to exit, suggesting that we should leave the writing to the writers and let them get on with it.

Others must have followed suit, because Matt and Traci had a finished script ready for us by midnight.

Early Sunday morning, we regrouped at Cindy's. Matt could not be with us, which left me the oldest in the group by a good 10 years. And I felt every year of it as I asked to have drug references and college slang explained to me. 420? Hella? Fortunately, my character (the brainy chick) didn't have to fight through too much lingo.

We spent the day learning lines and rehearsing, which was a neat trick with both our writer (Traci) and director (Raj) on stage. We walked to the theatre for our afternoon tech, grabbed lunch at a little Greek place in the heart of Hillcrest, and walked back to Cindy's for a few more runs before taking it on the road to David's Coffee House. From there, it was another short walk to 6th @ Penn, where we would be ushered in one group at a time perform.

Note to self: there are days when strappy heels are the wrong choice in footwear. Ouch!

We had shows at 6 and 8 for the public and then filed in again at 10 to watch each other perform. All were well received.

After the show, our producer (also young) invited everyone to wind down at his place after a long day. Usually, I'm up for a cast party, but I was feeling a bit midwestern and matronly as this conversation ensued:

Traci: Cindy, you're going to the party, right?
Cindy: Yeah.
Traci: Wanna ride with us, dude?
Cindy: Totally!
Traci: Raj, there's hella room...
Raj: I'll drive, man.
Cindy: Are you going, Kelly?
Kelly: No, I'm heading home. I'll be thinking of you when I slather on the Aspercreme.
Traci: Oh, right on. Hasta. Cindy, wanna smoke a bowl?

Even when I was that young, I wasn't that young. And after 24 hours of theatre and walking all over Hillcrest for two days, I was looking forward to a warm bed.

Today, I'm not doing anything. I'm loafing. I'm a couch potato. I'm vegging. I'm the whole breadstick and salad combo. Just try to stop me.