Fleeting moments

I haven't written since my arrival in Boston, and now I'm days away from my departure.

I feel as though I've been here for weeks and weeks, though it's only been two. So much has happened, so I'll try to describe it.

The weekend of my arrival was good, I got to the house and got settled in. The woman from whom I am renting a room was here, and we talked briefly. Her son, whose room I am in, left for Ireland the next morning, for two weeks. Talk about serendipitous timing. On Saturday, I went to find the rehearsal hall. I found the area where I thought it should be, but couldn't find a building with the right number [Turns out it was there, just very flaked and faded, and I missed the Masonic Lodge label. You'd think I'd be better at sniffing them out] and gave up. I went downtown after that, wandering around until I grew tired. I saw Chinatown, and sat in Boston Commons and wrote some postcards (I have so many more to send), and then came home.

Sunday, after speaking to my lone housemate; another employee of the company, (The landlady has spent all of her time, but for brief moments, somewhere else. It's just been Sheila and me.) I searched out the hall one more time. I discovered the faded number and the Masonic legend, and thought I was prepared.

Monday morning, bright and early, I boarded the train and hopped on a bus and stood outside the building which houses the rehearsal hall. I arrived perhaps forty-five minutes early, having only been told to be at this address at 10am. I stood outside, wondering how I might enter the building; my only company a man listening to a small portable radio o na pair of headphones and occasionally singing along.

Eventually two people approach the building and unlock the door, I ask if they're with Chamber, and they reply in the affirmative. I'm ushered upstairs by two folks who were seemingly quite excited to see me, having known of my impending arrival for some time. They are Kate and Jeremy, two members of my show's cast. My arrival is hailed by the rest of the cast, and my stage manager. I'm given a tour of the space, and then stand around for a while. There's a rehearsal which is, conveniently enough, a full run, so I watch that, as this is likely my only opportunity to see the show from the front. The cast is good, and I like the show.

After the run, the production manager shows up, and we talk briefly. I'm sent on a couple of errands, and the day is over.

The rest of the week is consumed in training on my rig. Everything is more or less prepared at High Output, in Canton. I get to assemble the rig and see what it's all about. We spend some time labeling things (Much of it is assembled by the two actors on my crew) and configuring equipment. I think this is the point where I begin to realize how different this show will be from the norm, in the sense of how little input I'm destined to have in the process. The show's been done before, and will be done again. It's being boiled down into a simple formula; a recipe for a play.

At the end of the week, we haphazardly pack the truck (A 26' box truck, with which I become fairly familiar over the next few days) and head to the tech rehearsal space, some blocks away from the company's primary space. Load in is... complicated. It's the morning of the last day of Ramadan, and the space is directly across the street from a moderately sized Mosque. Traffic is intense. The stage manager and I know very little about what to expect or what's expected of us. The loading dock is only ten feet deep or so. We back the truck straight in and look at the situation, and decide that's ridiculous, given the existing traffic. There's a misunderstanding, and I try to come around the block while the situation is sorted out... turns out this is not the decision anyone would have preferred. I finally get back to the theater (it's been fifteen or twenty minutes, traffic was ridiculous. I almost witnessed a fight in the middle of the road between two drivers) and it's decided to back the truck straight in, just as we (the stage manager and I; at this point the production manager and everyone else is there) had done previously. This is done, in spite of the absolutely insane traffic on this relatively narrow road. We leave the flashers on and figure it will be fine, just as it always is at this space. (I would guess most load-in days aren't on the last day of Ramadan...) I am informed that my decision was not the one that would have been preferred. Whatever, shit happens I guess.

Well. It's not fine. A police officer shows up and begins belittling and yelling at everyone. He asks the PM, "Is there something wrong with you?", and is curious as to whether I have ever driven a truck before. His requests were less than terribly clear, and the traffic is still absolutely insane.

The truck is repositioned and we continue with load-in. It's fairly uneventful, and I guess it's somewhat faster than the average. We're ready for tech week.

That's all for today, I'll write more this weekend, to catch up with current time, before we leave.