Dirty Rotten London

We arrive in London in plenty of time to do a little life administration. I make use of the free time to find a haircut and visit the market.

On the bus, there has been much discussion as to whether our show is at 7:30 or 8:00. This uncertainty apparently arises from the fact that we still don't have a signed contract from this venue. While I can understand how this might account for the lack of information, I wonder aloud if anyone has thought of contacting the box office by phone or on line. I'm certain that the people who are purchasing tickets will have a time printed on them. This idea is met with a why-don't-you-go-be-a-smarty-pants-somewhere-else glare.

As it turns out, the showtime is 8:00, so we arrive at the "theatre" with time enough to have a meeting about the newest wrinkle in our lives. Canadian Actors' Equity, in it's infinite wisdom, has decided that, under the terms of The Canadian Theatre Agreement, it is illegal for us to do a spacing rehearsal and/or sound check before our half-hour call. They consider this a proper rehearsal which can only take place provided that there is a minimum of 90 minutes break before the half-hour call. It doesn't take a team from MENSA to figure out that this is virtually impossible with the kind of schedule we're working on. The spacing is not so much of a problem. The sound check is....but I'll get to that.

The reason "theatre" is in quotes is because we are playing the John Labatt centre. This is where people go to see hockey games and rock concerts. It's an area. An ice rink, not a theatre, in spite of the fact that they sell a "broadway series" out of this venue. Take one large hockey arena, add a portable, raised stage and a mountain of black masking draps. Section off one quarter of the arena at one of the round ends and place the stage on the ice that has been covered with a layer of insulation. The sectioned off 1/4 becomes the "theatre" and the remaining 3/4 of the arena becomes "backstage".

Given the "no sound check" rule, the first half of the show is a nightmare as mics explode with squeaks, pops, bangs, screeches and howls....that is, when they're working at all. The orchestra, as well as a significant portion of the audience, are freezing because, even though the ice has been covered, the cold still seeps up through the insulation into one's feet/legs. The temporary stage is hollow underneath so the sound of huge set pieces being rolled on and off is deafening. I start a rumour that Disney and Columbia Artists have begun negotiation for "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels On Ice", to do a tour of arenas around the country next year.

Still, the show goes well yet again. I am very surprised that when Christy sings the lyrics "Watch me blow the little fuckers heads right off" she gets a huge laugh. Not the kind of response one expects from uptight, middle class London.

We drink, knowing that we have to do it all over again for today's matinee before getting on a bus and traveling to a place called Gaylord, Michigan.