TULSA AND I WORK IT OUT

So, Tulsa, we've had a fair amount of time alone together, you and I. I thought it was time that we had a relationship review. I'll go first.

You know, in many ways, you remind me of Lethbridge, or at least the Lethbridge I remember from my childhood. Not much to look at, but a good heart and a willingness to please. I'm not saying that you're ugly, and I certainly appreciate the steps you're taking to spruce yourself up with a hip, new look. I'm just saying that you're a work in progress and I applaud every step that you're taking. 

You'll have to forgive me if it's taken me some time to get used to your pace. Remember, I just came out of a relationship with New York City and the two of you are very, very different. For example, when I make a purchase in NYC and I say, "Thank you", the normal, expected response is, "NEXT CUSTOMER!". When I make a purchase here and I say, "Thank you", I'm still a little surprised when the response is, "Uh huh, you're welcome, hun. You enjoy the rest of your day now." Truth is, you're never in too much of a hurry to get anywhere or do anything, Tulsa, and while that's not always a bad thing, it does take some getting used to.

It's become clear that you have a love for the arts, and that makes me happy. Your symphony, your ballet, your varied theatre options. This is one of the surprising things about you, Tulsa, in a good way. 

My only major complaint about you, really, is that I find you a bit, well, empty at your core. There is something lacking at your center. This has been a problem with many of the cities I've had relationships with, of course, so perhaps I need to ask myself why I keep coming back to cities like you, but that's another discussion. 

To sum up, I adore your big sky and wide open spaces, your sparkling new arts performance and education facilities, your parks, your sense of history and your honest, down-home friendliness. And, while I'm glad I met you, I don't think we could ever have anything more than a short-term relationship. Maybe that's my problem and not yours, but this isn't really about blame. It's about what's right for both of us. Let's do our best to enjoy each other while we can, knowing that both of us will move on.

And one more thing, I know it's not really your fault, but your oppressive heat can be a little hard to take sometimes. 

THE JUNK IN MY (MISSING) TRUNK

Tulsa, OK....the saga continues...

Since our Company Manager is still unwell, our new Assistant Company Manager, Emily, agrees to take me to (finally) pick up my trunk. This involves two stops:1) US Customs & Border Protection to have it cleared, 2) Forward Air, the actually transport company.

So this morning, before rehearsal, off we go to the CBP office near the airport. I hand in my paperwork, explain the situation and then, we wait. At one point, an officer sticks his head through the door and asks, and I quote, "What's in this shit?". I explain that it's personal belongings and give him a copy of the packing list. He disappears. We wait. Eventually, he hands the paperwork back and says that the trunk is cleared and we can go pick it up from Forward Air.

We arrive at the Forward Air warehouse, hand over the paperwork to the lady who says, "Oh yes, is this the Hazmat?". I explain that it's personal belongings. She points to a skid of blue cylinders wrapped in shrink-wrap and says, "That's what this I.D. number matches. Looks like they sent us the wrong cargo." We begin to understand why the CBP officer may have been slightly confused.

Thankfully, Emily is with me and she begins to take charge since she has more background information than I. Phone calls are made, phone calls come in, messages are sent and received. We are eventually told that no one knows where the trunk is but that all of their facilities have video monitoring so they will now have to go through the recording archive to find the trunk and see where it went. No one know just how long this will take, so we leave.

I am remarkably calm through this entire episode. Surprisingly calm, though suddenly feeling the need for a big fuckin' drink. 

And so, we wait.

The original request still stands...if you happen to see 6 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of boots, 1 box of resume photos, 1 box of desk supplies, 1 ceramic mug, 1 coffee pot, 1 electric kettle, 1 clothes iron, 3 boxes of contact lenses, 1 ceramic kitchen knife, 2 outdoor jackets, 2 dinner jackets, 1 raincoat, 1 yoga mat, 4 scarves, 2 sweaters, 12 t-shirts, 2 pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of pants and a collapsible laundry hamper...they're mine. 

Oh, and, for the record, I will lose my shit if this doesn't get sorted soon.

THE JUNK IN MY TRUNK

N.B.* I delayed publishing this post because it didn't seem right to indulge in a petty rant when so many of my friends in Calgary were fighting to save their homes from the massive flooding. While the fight is still going on, the peak of the crisis has past and a little humour isn't a bad thing.
xxx

As I am about to start travelling again ( a lot!) with the national tour of The Lion King, it seemed like a good time to re-boot the blog with this tale of trying to get my personal belongings shipped to America.

The Lion King Gazelle Tour is what is known as a 'trunk tour'. This means that I am allowed to have a trunk full of things that won't (or can't) go into suitcases. The trunk gets picked up at my accommodation in each city, and delivered to my accommodation in the next city. Sounds like a great thing since one can pack things like boots, rain-coats, small kitchen appliances etc. However, getting it picked up in Canada and shipped across an international border was not a simple as it should have been.

First, the trunk....

The company recommends the Contico Pro Tuff Bin. They try to keep the trunks similar to make for ease of moving and packing on the trucks. So, off to Lowe's I go and am quickly the owner of a brand new trunk.

And so, for days, I took on the task of deciding what I might want to have on the road with me, and packing it into my shiny, new trunk.

Then the emails started...

I have yet to meet the company manager in person, but we have been exchanging a dozen emails a day for over a week. It's like a first date.

The condensed version of the story is that shipping personal belongs across the border is a lot more complicated now than when the company manager last did it, two years ago. Forms need to be completed, passports and drivers licenses copied, letters of 'intent' written. All of this dragged on through the week, even though the trunk was supposed to be picked up on Tuesday. When at last I had printed and filled out the forms, copied my personal documents and written the letter of intent, I went to the local convenience store to fax it all to the company manager. Why the convenience store? It's the country, and it was after 6:00 p.m., and one's options are limited. 

The fax...

ME: I need to send a fax.

DEAD-BEHIND-THE-EYES GIRL: K

(pause)

ME: Do you have a cover sheet?

DBTEG: A what? Uh...I don't think so. I just scan it in and it goes.

(pause)

ME: So....do you want me to write down the fax number or......?

DBTEG: K

(She tries to send it three times. No success)

DBTEG: Jathink it's a long distance number?

ME: Um....yes. It's a 212 area code. It's long distance.

DBTEG: So I should put a 1 in front of it?

ME: (grinding my teeth to dust) Uh-huh. Ya. You should. You should do that.

By the time the fax is finally sent, it is Thursday night. I am flying out on Monday. More emailing. I am assured that someone will be in touch to arrange a pick-up time for Friday.

The phone calls....

I pace the house most of the day on Friday, drinking. Shortly after noon, I receive a call from someone who asks if I have a parcel ready for pick-up. I explain that it is a trunk, not a parcel, and YES it is, indeed ready for pick-up. 

Do I know the dimensions?

I read them from the sticker still attached to the trunk.

Do I know the weight?

Heavier than a suitcase but lighter than me.

He says he will find someone who can do the job and call me back.

Hours pass...

The phone rings again, this time a woman from Toronto wonders if my parcel is ready for pick-up. Again, I explain that it is not a parcel, but a trunk and YEEEESSS it is ready for pick up.

Do I know the dimensions?

My head and eyes begin to spin in opposite directions as the conversation starts all over again.

Hours pass...

No one has called to arrange a pick-up time, as promised, but a man arrives in a big truck....looking for a parcel that's to be picked up. AGAIN, I explain that it is a trunk. A big, motha-fuckin-trunk, and NO I don't know how much it weighs!!

He calmly backs up the truck, loads the trunk, with my help, accepts my documents and drives off. No shipping label, no signature....nothing. 

So, somewhere, out there in the world, right now, are some things that belong to me. Lots of things. So, if you should happen to spot 6 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of boots, 1 box of resume photos, 1 box of desk supplies, 1 ceramic mug, 1 coffee pot, 1 electric kettle, 1 clothes iron, 3 boxes of contact lenses, 1 ceramic kitchen knife, 2 outdoor jackets, 2 dinner jackets, 1 raincoat, 1 yoga mat, 4 scarves, 2 sweaters, 12 t-shirts, 2 pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of pants and a collapsible laundry hamper.....they're mine. Please forward them to Tulsa, Oklahoma as soon as possible.

*Update...My trunk has actually arrived in Tulsa but is imprisoned in Customs. I cannot pick it up without the Company Manager because he had it sent to him in case it got here before I did. We are working to find a time when we can go pick it up together. Sigh. 

VISITING REUBEN...AGAIN

My most recent Reuben was at Untitled, the cafe inside The Whitney Museum of American Art.

 I thought that the best thing about this sandwich was the bread itself, a delicious caraway rye, grilled to crunchy, crumbly perfection. The Russian Dressing was also quite good. Unfortunately, I found the pastrami a bit chewy and with coleslaw replacing sauerkraut in this version, the sandwich lacked the tang that I enjoy so much. Also, at $15, with no side-of-anything included other than a tiny helping of a fairly insipid Israeli cous cous salad, I found this Reuben pretty over-priced. I may be accused of being picky here, but when I'm eating in a Danny Meyer restaurant, I think I have a right to expect an almost obsessive-compulsive attention to detail.

The house-made lemonade, however, was perfect.

 

All that being said, let me counter that review with this thought...

There is a wine bar right around the corner from my apartment. I took note of it on the very first day I moved into the neighborhood and vowed to visit it one day. I finally got around to stopping in and was delightfully surprised to discover that it's SOUTH AFRICAN !!! South African owners & staff, South African wine, South African music and South African food. 

The menu at Kaia Wine Bar

It's a perfect place to lounge away a Sunday evening, slowly surfing through the New York Sunday Times and enjoying a glass of wine. And the bison meatballs were delicious !!!

New York is in bloom and every tiny splash of colour is a welcome relief from the grey stone surroundings.

Sorry about your spring snow storm, Calgary

This building used to host a large Mary Poppins banner.

It seems to be our turn.

Everything is bigger in New York.

WHERE DID THE WINTER GO?

It's the first of April and the rain in New York city is coming down hard. This is following hard on the heels of a week of cold, which was preceded by two weeks of tanning and pic-nic weather, during which all of the spring flowers and trees bloomed and then, consequently died during the cold spell. It doesn't seem to matter what I wear when I leave the house for work, I'm always wearing the wrong thing by the time I leave the theatre at night.

None of this, I realize, is unusual in the world right now. I'm getting reports of ridiculous weather from everywhere, (sorry about the snow, Calgary and Salhus) but can I just say, "Jeeez!!".

*************

I'm still eating my way around New York as much a possible, or rather, when I feel that I can afford it. Recently, my choice for lunch was Felidia, the flagship restaurant of Lidia Bastianich, mother of the grumpy-pants chef Joe Bastianich who is part owner of Eataly with Mario Batali.

I was a little concerned when I walked into the restaurant and saw the well-uniformed wait-staff, the linens and the up-scale decor. Could I have really misread the on-line menu? But the lunch offering was indeed the three-course prefixe for $29.50 that I'd seen on the website.

I started with 'fegatini', the beautifully presented and deliciously creamy chicken livers.

Then, hoping to broaden my culinary horizons, and being in a place where it should be properly understood and prepared, I opted to try the 'trippa'. Tripe. (Please feel free to click the link for an explanation if you need it. It will save me from having to explain in lurid detail.)

Gotta say....not a fan. I made it through almost a third of the dish, which did come with a delicious, cheesy, buckwheat polenta, but ultimately decided that, spicy sauce or not, I simply couldn't cope with the texture. So, I tried it, and now I know.

The meal was finished off with an interesting, though not earth-shattering, lemon tiramisu.

I enjoyed the place and the service and would probably have enjoyed the meal more had I ordered something a bit more conventional.

I also had a chance to eat at another iconic New York City establishment, The Four Seasons Restaurant (NOT the one at the hotel of the same name) courtesy of a birthday gift certificate purchased for me by Tim back in October.

This is a real old-school, business-lunch kind of place. A hand-shake, done-deal kind of place. Gentlemen are requested to wear a jacket, and you really stand out from the crowd if you're not wearing a dark suit. (I was not forced to wear one of their "loaner jackets" since we were eating at the bar.) You may also stand out from the crowd if you're a woman, but most of the women I saw there could pass for men anyway. Except, of course, for my fabulous lunch date, the delightful Glynis Ranney.

The food at this place was simple and well prepared, and served with the kind of well-practiced, subtle, unobtrusive hand of professional waiters. Nothing to write home about, but enjoyable. And boy, are we glad we had that gift certificate, which also covered the tax & tip ! We knew that alcohol would be extra, but we were still more than a bit surprised when the bill for two glasses of wine and two coffees came to $58.00 !!!! Reminiscent of the prices in Venice.

I also continue my quest for New York's best Reuben Sandwich and, in doing so, am discovering a sub-culture of Reuben aficionados who are passionate about the way things are done. Apparently, The Carnegie Deli has introduced a Reuben that they've name after Tim Tebow which has so much meat in it that not even a giant python could open it's mouth wide enough to take a bite. A food reviewer gave this particular sandwich a big thumbs down, complaining that everything just fell apart and became a big mess that had to be eaten with a fork. Also, he was cranky that it came with mayonnaise. Whole grain mustard is the ONLY acceptable condiment for a Reuben.

My most recent sample of this NYC classic was at The Olympic Restaurant/Diner in midtown.

This is the kind of place that's been around for ever but has probably only ever replaced the vinyl on the booth seats twice in their entire history. A real 'blue plate special' kind of place. The kind of place where you really might want to give your cutlery an extra wipe on your sleeve. Love it!

This time, I tried a pastrami (as opposed to corned beef) Reuben. It was served open-face with 94 lbs of cheese melted on top. The pastrami was excellent, but the sauerkraut was a bit too mild and lacked any real 'zing'. This Reuben didn't compare to the excellent version I had at Zoe, but I got what I paid for and enjoyed it.

 Comes with pickle and microscopic serving of slaw
which, I suppose, counts as
 serving of vegetable

 ****************

I had the chance to see my new friend Haden Tee's cabaret show at Don't Tell Mama. Hayden has a beautiful, pure, crystal-clear high-tenor voice and a wicked sense of humour. I particularly liked his version of Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back" (I Like Big Butts), sung in the style of Gilbert & Sullivan.

Here's Hayden recording for his album 

in front of a live audience in Australia

The room was packed with an eclectic mix of people including Adam Rennie whom I met when I saw him perform in "Love Never Dies" (Andrew Lloyd Webber Never Dies) in Melbourne, and Adam's boyfriend Blake whom I met when he was on tour with a show in Singapore. 

Hayden & Adam

Adam had, literally, just got off a plane from Australia

and come directly to the cabaret

************

It was Phumba's birthday (the warthog) at the show this week . The cake said, "Happy Birthday you dirty pig". This love-filled sentiment was organised by his ever-snappy comedy partner, Timon.

Timon stops by our dressing room

***********

I'm addicted to my Bikram Hot Yoga classes and credit the practice with keeping me strong and healthy enough to wear a thirty pound costume eight times a week. The classic yoga position where the hands are placed in prayer in front of the chest is called "Namaskar". The obvious pun involved here makes me giggle every time the teacher says it. 

I posted this visual pun on FarceBook

but, alas, no one got it

NamaScar

LION KING CARES

This is the time of year when all the Broadway shows begin their massive fund-raising campaign for Broadway Cares / Equity Fights Aids. This involves a number of large-scale events,  but every show in town also collects donations and sells signed posters and other items in the lobby after every performance.

We've signed about 300 of these things so far

 For a reasonable donation, audience members can have their pictures taken with a cast member in the lobby, and for a more generous donation, a private back-stage tour led by one of the cast members. I did a particularly odd tour last night. Usually, tours are purchased by families because the kids want a close-up look at the puppets and the adults want to stand on a Broadway stage,  so I was a bit surprised when I went to the lobby to find a single young man waiting for me. During the tour, he seemed completely disinterested in getting a closer look at anything, all he wanted to know was how much everything cost. How much did the show cost? How much did that puppet cost? How much did that costume cost? It was all a bit odd and a little tiring, even more so because his English was barely understandable. In the end, I pushed my tour-guiding spiel into high-gear and quickly sent him back out into the streets.

 *********

As of Wednesday, March 14, 2012, The Lion King became the sixth longest-running show in Broadway history with 5,960 performances. That's more performances than RENT, BEAUTY & THE BEAST or MISS SAIGON. The previous 6th place holder, at 5,959 was, believe it or not, OH, CALCUTTA !!! (Yeesh!)

The Lion King only needs 177 more performances to take 5th place, currently held by 

A CHORUS LINE.

********

There are a few things that New Yorkers seem to be madly, passionately in love with: their dogs, coffee houses, horn-honking, and the Burberry scarf.

 Is it just me, or is anyone else oh-so-tired of the Burberry scarf ? Really, I don't get it.

First of all, it's brown. Not a rich, deep, chocolate brown. It is not the enticing red-brown of exotic spices, nor is it the golden-brown of the desert sands. No, it is more of an I-can't-commit-to-an-actual-colour brown. Halfway between camel and caramel brown. Baby-shit brown.

Secondly, while it may have been a symbol of status and high style at some point in it's early history, doesn't the fact that everyone is wearing it now make it passe?

Third: did I mention that it's brown?

There is also a segment of of New York's population that is fond of the fashion trend known as "sagging". Here are some visual aids for clarification.

Now, I've worn some pretty outlandish street clothes in my day, but this trend baffles me. Not only is it awkward and unflattering, but I'm getting a little tired of having someones underwear in my face as I follow them up the stairs from the subway. In order to keep their pants at the correct height, these guys either have to walk like they have a grapefruit between their thighs or they have to constantly use one hand to hold their pants up. My dresser told me a story about watching some poor guy try to run across the street, with his pants around his thighs, who tripped and fell into a giant puddle. His 'cool factor' immediately plummeted to zero as everyone on the street simply pointed and laughed.

While it's clear that the "style" was popularised by rappers and hip-hop artists, there are a couple of theories as to how it got started. The most plausible seems to be the idea that, in prison, your belt is taken away causing your pants to droop, thus, gang members adopted  the style to indicate that they've served time. Another story is that, if your ass is 'available' in the slammer, you wear your pants low to indicate this, and you can bet that most of the boys wearing this style on the street would be horrified to hear THAT theory. 

*****

I've been craving a Reuben Sandwich so I began a search for New York's best Reuben. I mentioned this to my makeup artist, Elizabeth, who also happens to love a good Reuben, and she dug out an article by New York Times Magazine in which they too scoured the city for a Reuben to remember. After discarding the non-traditional sandwiches (who wants a Reuben made with turkey and coleslaw?!?!) I narrowed my options down to two, and picked the one restaurant that made a classic Reuben using their own corned beef, their own Russian dressing and gallons of butter. 

The cheesy, melt-in-your-mouth Ruben from Zoe Restaurant

Instead of fries, I opted for a side of their 'crispy fried Brussels sprouts'

served with a dollop of sour cream.

This may make sprout haters cringe, but I LOVED them!

Head chef and owner, Zoe, in blue, and our server, in white.

This ridiculously delicious lunch was capped off with a 'ciccolata', the dense, creamy,  Italian-style hot chocolate from Eataly. It's so thick, you could use a spatula to clean out the cup afterward.

*******

AROUND MY NEIGHBORHOOD

Yes, my neighborhood hardware store is called WANKEL'S

Giant rat on the street, for reasons unknown

A reminder of where I'm going as I get on the subway to head to work

MANIFEST THIS

In my opinion, there's really only two things wrong with William Shatner's one-man show,

the script and the performance.

That sounds bitchier than I mean it to. The truth is, his stories, though somewhat self-aggrandising, are actually good stories. Some funny, some poignant, and mostly quite interesting. But...if a script, a series of scenes, or stories, is like a pearl necklace, strung together symmetrically, moving smoothly from one to the next, Bill's pearls are all over the floor. The stories leap and yo-yo back and forth from topic to topic with no real flow or reason.

And though they are HIS stories, he's a TERRIBLE story teller. I don't think he finished a single sentence in the entire show. None of this seemed to bother the hard-core fans, sci-fi or otherwise, that were in the house, but I would love to introduce him to a dominatrix-dramaturg (Shari Wattling) and a director that will say, "No Bill, do it THIS way !". 

Don't get me wrong, I like Captain Kirk as much as the next closet-Trekkie, and I certainly admire Bill's fight to make his career one, long successful come-back after another, but this show was certainly not a memorable night in the theatre for me.

**********

One of the dressers on Lion King, Pixie, (yes, her name is Pixie) hosts a post-show cabaret on the last Wednesday of every month. It's held in a tiny room on the third floor of a tavern on 46th street, so tiny that twenty people make it seem crowded. But the atmosphere is friendly and supportive and the owner pours generous drinks and keeps the kitchen open late. 

 The event is the kind of no-holds-barred, anything-can-happen evening that everyone should experience. You never really know what, or who you're going to get, but you are guaranteed a collection of eclectic performances by cast and crew members of various Broadway shows. The most recent line-up included several excellent stand-up comics, two new songs from a musical about prostate cancer being written by two Lion Kingers (both survivors of the disease), some hot acoustic guitar playing,

 and some great solos from a variety of on and off-stage people from different shows. Even the waitress took a turn at the microphone. 

 

 

*******

I'm still spending as much of my time off as possible discovering New York. Recently, I've stomped the crooked streets of Greenwich Village, visited The Chelsea Market, and walked the beautiful High Line Park.

I'm also discovering places where I like to eat and drink, though I don't do either of those as often as most New Yorkers seem to. My new favourite place to indulge in good, old-fashioned, inexpensive comfort food is The Meatball Shop. This place, at least the location that I've been frequenting, screams New York. Crammed with people, noisy, happy and oh so delicious. There's always a crowd at the door since they don't take reservations but if you put your name on the list, they are happy to send a text to your mobile phone when your table is ready. Their food is so popular, they've published a cookbook and are confident enough about the loyalty of their clientele that your bill comes clipped to a recipe !! 

Meatballs. Who knew?

************

Dressing room attitude

Dressing room merriment

Dressing room tasks...

signing hundreds of posters for Broadway Cares

********

You know that moment when you find a forgotten twenty-dollar bill in your pants pocket. Well, I had one of those moments the other day. But better...

For a while now, I've been grumpy about dragging my laptop to the theatre on double-show days, but having it handy between shows on a twelve hour day is just so convenient for watching a movie or getting some banking done. So, I've been thinking that if I bought an ipad, I could just leave it at the theatre and, voila, no more lugging the laptop back and forth. Nice idea but a new ipad2 is five-hundred dollars. So, I put it in the back of my mind as something to visit down the road, perhaps once I move into a cheaper apartment. Fast forward to me looking for a safe pocket in my tiny purse (yes, I call it my purse) to shove some show tickets into. (William Shatner's show, actually) As I dug into a small, unused pocket, I discovered, wait for it, 500 Singapore dollars that I've obviously been dragging around with me since October !!

ipad, purchased.

Never let it be said that I don't know how to manifest.

I'm working on a manifesting a Lexington Avenue townhouse.

UNIQUE NEW YORK

We have, finally, switched to the classic 'Broadway' schedule. That means no killer weekends where we do 5 shows in 3 days, the schedule that makes Sunday almost impossible to bear, knowing that, even though every fiber of your being is screaming for rest, there are STILL two more shows to get through. 

Now, instead, we have the much more sensible two-show-Wednesday,  two-show-Saturday, and one show on Sunday that starts at three p.m. !!! This means that Sunday mornings can be a leisurely affair, and Sunday evenings are fat with possibility since you're out of the theatre by six p.m. Why, it's almost like having two days off! After doing the horrible five-show-weekends for the entire run in Singapore, this Broadway schedule is like getting all you Christmas and birthday presents at once.

This is how I used to feel about Sunday...

This is how I feel about a Sunday matinee now...

It's worthy of a party. And party we did...

After our last two-show-Sunday, the boys down in dressing room A hosted a small, celebrational soiree, serving up Perfect Manhattans. (For the mixologists, that's equal parts sweet & dry vermouth and a good quality Bourbon. And if you're feeling wild, a splash of Cointreau for complexity). 

Nothing says "Celebrate" like pizza and manhattans.

******************

New York continues to entertain me. I lucked into some tickets for "How To Succeed In Business...".

It's not one of the shows I would not have picked on my own, but I'm really glad I saw it. It's bright, fresh, energetic and just plain fun with some of the best choreography I've seen in a long time. Strong performances from everyone including, though I am loathe to admit it, Nick Jonas who was charming and funny, and Beau Bridges was hysterical and who knew he could sing and dance.

 *

Through a series of connections, I also managed to score some tickets for the always-sold-out "Sleep No More". This is a kind of non-linear, non-verbal, movement-based, immersive, sensory-overloading theatrical installation event created by a company called Punchdrunk. 

The experience, in which you follow characters around a HUGE environment to witness a loose re-telling of MacBeth, is difficult to explain. I found it to be like being lost in someone else's vast dreamscape. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Even the next day, I still couldn't get some of the images and theatrical moments out of my head. The more I think about it, still, the more I want to go back because I know there are lots of things that I missed.

For some great photos and a really well written explanation of the experience, click HERE to see another blogger's page about the show. If you're coming to New York and you don't mind a little leg-work with your entertainment, this is a must-see.

*

I also took myself to see the much-acclaimed "War Horse". There were no connections or luck involved with this ticket, just me forking over $125, but it was worth every penny and more. In decades of going to see live theatre, this is one of the most unique, intense, brilliant and beautiful productions I have ever seen. The craft of story-telling honed to it's finest. The end of Act I had me so gob-smacked that, when the house lights came up, I sat in my chair, mouth hanging open,breathless and unable to move.

*

This mad city also continues to provide plenty of free stimulation. My British friends might be interested to know that British Tourism has partnered with The New York Metro Transit Authority to promote culture-vulture holidays...

Conversation over-heard on 5th Avenue...

HER: Do you wanna see my office?

HIM: Can I fuck you in your office?

HER: (no pause or change in tone) No. Do you wanna see it?

And then there was the topless woman beating the crap out of Hello Kitty in front of the Toys R Us in Times Square.

This has been making the rounds on Facebook.

It couldn't be truer...

ALL AROUND THE TOWN

I never thought I'd say it, but I wish it would snow. This warm weather just isn't right. Don't get me wrong, I curse the snow as I'm trudging through it just like everyone else, but that doesn't mean I want the seasons to disappear. So far, we have had one snowfall in NYC, and the snow barely lasted one day, but for that one day, my little street was transformed.

Lonely, stone puppy on my terrace

In this city, it's easy to want to cut yourself off from the constant input of information and the never-ending crush of people, particularly when you work in Times Square. But if you can find a way to channel it, it can also be a rush to navigate the energy currents on the way to and from the theatre.

 It's like taking a short-cut through the circus every day.

Tis the season for new shows to inhabit Broadway and, as an outsider, the sheer volume of theatre here is a thespian wet dream. The Minskoff Theater, home of The Lion King, faces Times Square and straddles the block between 44th & 45th Streets. Both of these streets are crammed with theaters. In fact, if you were to leave The Minskoff stage door, walk along 44th to 8th Ave, and up 45th to return to the stage door, you would pass more than 10 theaters. On a quick trip to grab a coffee between shows, I snapped a few pics of new shows set to open, all on 45th street, all within 3 minutes of my stage door.

 Our dressing room windows look across the street into their dressing room windows.

Perhaps I can terrify Ricky's kids with my Scar make-up.

 This is the Imperial theatre that hosted the recently closed "Billy Elliot"

 This musical is based on the indie movie of the same name.

Any one's guess how long it will last.

 Yes, William Shatner is opening a one-man show.

This is the theater that housed the Canadian production of "Private Lives"

starring Paul Gross and Kim Catrall

Ridiculously stellar cast, including fellow Canadian Eric McCormack

 And those are just Broadway shows. Factor in all the off-Broadway, off-off-Broadway, experimental, cabaret and 'happenings', and it all becomes overwhelmingly fantastic.

I've been doing the show for 3 weeks now, and despite my best efforts, the massive bouquet of roses I received from Pam, Michael, Kay and Tim have faded. When I brought them home from the theatre, I tossed them in the bathtub overnight to rehydrate them. They looked so colorful, I almost left them there just for fun.

Over time, I kept pulling  the dead ones out of the vase and rehydrating the struggling ones. Fortunately, it's so hot in my apartment that the survivors dried out almost perfectly and, three weeks later,  they are still on my coffee table, looking almost as if I put a dried arrangement there on purpose.

When Pam wasn't in charge of buying roses on the sly, we chewed up as much of NYC as time would allow. I thought I might have to physically restrain her when we got a counter seat at the pizza/pasta bar at EATALY.

And then when the pizza and pasta of the day arrived, .....well, it was carnage.

I posted in a previous entry how great it was to receive opening wishes from around the world. Well, it was equally great to receive some sass from far away. I got a text from Lyall in South Africa. He included a pic of him dining with some of the folks from the Singapore production of LK. I made a sarcastic comment about having to dine with "THEM", and received this photo in reply...

 Yup, that's Jamie. He played the meerkat. One of these guys....

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