I have had paychecks bounce and watched, many times, as jobs evaporated because theatres closed their bankrupted doors.
I have been wined and dined by aristocracy.
I have dragged my tired ass out of bed at 6 a.m. to unload a van and entertain a gymnasium full of children. Children !
I have lived through shows with non-existent air conditioning, suicide attempts and on-stage death.
I have performed the dramatic, the comedic, the tuneful, the tragic, the banal and the forgettable.
I have performed WITH the dramatic, the comedic, the tuneful, the tragic, the banal and the forgettable.
I have woken up not knowing the name of the place I'm in, not knowing the day of the week, knowing only that there is a show to be performed.
I have been dissed, pissed and missed.
I have laughed, cried, fought, mourned, celebrated, discovered and bonded with thousands of people in cast after cast after cast.
I've fought with myself, for myself, sung my own praises, doubted every instinct I ever had, almost given up on myself, drank away my failures and been revived and reborn in the addictive drug that is applause.
And now, as of yesterday, I've had my Broadway debut. I have lived that moment that teenagers around the planet are dreaming of right now as they sing musical scores into a hairbrush in their bedrooms.
Opening cards & flowers
Faux Playbill constructed by Tim
The text, in red, says, "Life's not fair is it, bitch"
It was an amazing and wonderful experience to receive opening day best wishes from around the world. My inbox was crammed with messages from Singapore, Australia, France, Dubai, South Africa, New Zealand, Thailand, England, Canada and The U.S.
Gareth, the departing Scar, on his last day
Me, on my first day
My new Young Simbas
Through strange rehearsal schedule, getting to learn the new stage space, getting to learn the new people and trying to put the details back into my performance, I had a small revelation. Really, at the heart of it, and without diminishing what this place is, at the end of the day, it's another show.
Yes, it's exciting. Yes, it's gratifying to be here. Yes, I'm proud. But being here, you realize that , though the venue is different, the people are the same. Different pond, same fish. This is Oz, and everyone wants to meet the Wizard.These people are no different than any that I've worked with over and over again, except that they are working in The Emerald City. How they got here, whether by dogged determination or simply by being in the right place at the right time is unimportant. They are the same gypsy story-tellers that inhabit every theatre on the planet. The people who knew, at some point in their lives, that they were different. The people who, night after night, leave their own lives behind and inhabit the lives of someone else in order to tell a story to everyone sitting out there in the dark. My people.
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