So THAT'S Where I Left My Saw

Show # 3 of 5 tonight. And... fabulous news!! NO SPILLS! Someone pointed out that if all the glasses were grouped together in a clump they'd support each other. So we did that, and lo and behold, the glasses survived all of our trips across the stage. If only we had known sooner! Physics strikes again, this time to our advantage.

The theater in which this performance takes place is piggy-backed onto another, larger theater. They have separate entrances but are attached via partially underground hallways. Partially, you say? How can that be? Well the older, larger theater is uphill from the newer, smaller one. So to enter the backstage area for the smaller one from outside you have to go down a short flight of stairs. Then as you wend your way through the halls and passageways you go up a few steps. From there you wiggle about a little, go through a room full of I don't know what, pipes and wires and planks and things, through a door, around a wrought-iron spiral staircase and into a hall where you can find doors leading directly to the sidewalk. The theater (the older one) is still a flight above. In those hallways you will also find a green room, some private dressing rooms and the chorus/super dressing room. The spiral staircase leads to the backstage area of the larger theater. I'm very glad I don't have to climb that staircase in my dress! It's hard enough going up the standard staircase to the theater we're in. I have to gather the thing up and I hold it in front of me in a ball. And forget about going to the bathroom. Actually I can't forget about that - I always need to go, usually the moment I get my costume on. But so far, so good. Meaning, I haven't dipped my dress in the toilet, always a good thing. So where was I? Oh yeah... today I noticed that in this vague room in between the hallways that connect the theaters, not only are there pipes and wires and planks and things, there is also a circular saw with a piece of wood on it and a pile of sawdust below it. Like, right next to where we have to walk. How odd, I thought, to be going back and forth from the green room to the stage past a large scary saw.

As I watch the chorus members get more and more tired from constant rehearsals, master classes, coachings and other performance-related projects, I realize that there is no way I could do what they're doing. I think I would drop from exhaustion. The fact that they don't drop, that they keep pressing on, to me shows that they're all very serious and dedicated about what they do.