Flight Patterns

There were about ten people in front of me and a zillion people behind me in the security line at the Philadelphia Airport. I blame this on the fact that there was no expert flyer line for professional travelers such as myself. Suddenly, the security guard suddenly decided to lift one of those black ropes, as if opening the golden gates of heaven. Yes! I silently cried. Surely, today I had chosen the right line. I mean, she basically opened this x-ray machine just for me! Clearly, she can recognize people who are experienced in airport security protocol and realized that I should not have to wait behind these "casual flyers". Alas, as I followed the three girls into this imagined VIP line, it became apparent that these women were not just "casual flyers", but "never-been-on-one-of-these-flying-machines-in-my- life flyers". "Oh, wait, I left my laptop in there!" "Oh, I have to take off my shoes?" "I didn't bring a bag for my liquids" "Wait, where's my boarding pass". As I stood there, shoes in hand, coat off, freezer bag of make-up in hand, invisible tears rained in my heart as I watched people sail through the original line as if they had a fast pass at Disney. Good grief.

"Now we're talking with gas."~BVH on attitude of meaning...or something.

Like it? I love it! I lost a limb for it at Ross!

Entering the Ross on Market Street is like walking the fine line between Grand Central Station and the left wing of Arkham Asylum. Not the wing where the Joker, Catwoman, and Chris O'Donnel's acting career are sitting and pondering their next evil plan until the next Batman movie, but the wing where the average Gothamians (Gothamers? Gothamites?) are hitting themselves in the faces with hand mirrors and eating their own playing cards (shout out to Good Burger). Last time I was there, I was followed down Market Street by a woman screaming at me insisting that Asian girls, such as myself, are taking all the jobs in this country. After insisting that she could HAVE my job serving cold cous-cous balls to Republicans if she wanted it, I ducked into the store. All I needed to do was make a return, but dedicated fans will remember that I ALWAYS choose the wrong line. This time I was stuck for twenty minutes while two women in front of me negotiated the price of their ice cream scoop, novelty Santa platters, 4 tea lights, a fake crystal decanter, and a medium sized porcelain Rooster which the cashier refused to wrap for them. Although, I frankly feel that if it gets broken in their travels, it's probably for the best in this best of all possible worlds.

"1...2...3...and we're on a ship/the men have left/yes they did yes they did/and now...we go...to the party"~SR counting out dance steps

"As they say in LA 'Perfection is expected.' But this is Philly. Where perfection is 'aight"~SR on performance.

Under Pressure

I managed to watch half of Mannequin, Stomp the Yard, and Sydney White all in one evening. All I learned is that Kim Catrell has not aged a day in 20 years, and no one appreciates it when you point out every spot you recognize in a movie that was filmed on your college campus.

As an actor, when all the rejection and the day jobs and the ennui start to get to you it's important to remember this: Brad Pitt once handed out flyers in a Chicken Suit, Jerry Seinfeld sold light bulbs over the phone and Laurence Fishburn started out as the cowboy on Pee Wee's Playhouse.

"Whose town is it?"~The caption for a community theater production of Our Town. 

Adventures in Catering: Part 1

Things I've learned while catering...

1. When serving Mr. Gorbachev, be sure to look both ways before you cross the street. Otherwise, you will be steamrolled by eight traditional Russian dancers.

2. Do not naturally assume the young woman with the aging baseball star is his daughter. It is probably his girlfriend. The less attractive girl of the same age standing to their left with the look of disgust on her face? Now THAT is his daughter.

3. Walking closely behind someone's chair while carrying a full glass of water will make you an unwilling participant in a wet t-shirt contest.

4. The minky pepper may look like a string bean but is actually a vegetable medley of instant death. The only cure is banana or cantaloupe, but mango ice creak is a close second.

5. Never stop by a puddle on the street while carrying a cardboard box of muffins and wearing a tuxedo. Monsoon will ensue.

6. Old men can make infinite jokes at your expense when you are carrying "Mushroom Tarts."

7. No one likes Black Bean Sliders.

"What a mediocre party. What an OK gathering of people. They look like they are having a...fine time."~Len and I on lame parties.

No time to say hello; Goodbye!

The other day I ran past a man walking down Sansom in a bowler hat, suit and vest, with a pocket watch on a chain. He had a white, bushy beard and a sour disposition. If anyone doubted the existence of time travel, I'm pretty sure this guy would've proved him wrong. Honestly, how long has it been since you've seen a bowler hat and pocket watch incorporated in everyday apparel?

"For a show with no set and no props, this show sure has a big set and a lot of props"~JW on minimalism. 

Snorkledork

The thing about Bermuda is...

1. It's a British colony, but the currency is US dollars or Bermudian money...but it doesn't really matter, because it's all going out of your pocket with one round of drinks.

2. Beyonce Knowles may walk right by you! Solange will too, but no one likes her.

3. Steve Harvey does his radio show from your hotel...but you're not sure if you're allowed to laugh at his jokes...

4. Things that are fried are called "Golden Delights" but that's ok, because you can just tuck them in your "Leprechaun Purse".

5. If a hotel worker says, "Good morning!" They will not respond to your request until you first say "Good morning" back. This makes for an awkward exchange when you're trying to find the bathroom.

If found...

If you find a Tiffany bracelet on the floor of the bathroom, should you REALLY return it to Tiffany's in NYC? That IS what the charm says to do. Instead, I gave it to the lost and found. Somehow, a cardboard box filled with lost sweatshirts and lunch boxes seems like an inappropriate place to store such an expensive bracelet.

I took the the trolley today for the first time. It's not nearly as whimsical as I thought it would be. there are no candied apples or whistles or Judy Garlands. It's really just a nasty, underground bus. AND the people of West Philadephia would not join me in singing Clang, Clang, Clang went the Trolley. Altogether, a very disappointing experience. 

You know what I hate? Couples that go to auditions together. Gross.

"You better not let anyone double dip!"~some lady who ate, like, three plates of hor d'oeuvres at the banquet tonight. 

The World between Skim and 2%

Are you aware that there is such a thing as 1% milk? Personally, I've always been a skim girl. I turn my nose up at 2%, only sprinkling it on cereal at a diner if that's all they have. Whole milk is arsenic to me. But in a late night cereal indulgence, I was introduced to the 1%. After drinking skim for so long, 1% is like the nectar of the gods. Add that to a bowl of golden grahams at 2 am, and you'd record it as what your final meal should be.

"How old do you have to be before eating prunes is cool?"~Cashier at super fresh. 

There's something so satisfying about stepping into the "Expert flyer" security line at the Orlando airport. In a time where I feel so unsure about everything in life, this is the one thing I can confidently say I am an "expert" at. I look at the signs thinking, "No, sir, I do NOT need 'special assistance' getting through the security line, and the "Casual Flyer" line? Psh. There is nothing casual about the way I plan to speed through this security line today. I am familiar with the TSA procedures and I have already removed my shoes from my feet and my laptop from my bag. Yessirreebob, I am an "expert" flyer. I will however, without fail, choose the slowest line at the x-ray machine EVERYTIME. I use all my powers of deduction; "Alright that line has a guy with a stoller and two kids, but this lin hasn't even untied their shoelaces..." Regardless, I will always watch longingly as the line as the line I did NOT pick moves smoothly through, while the man in front of me wrestles with his belt buckle while trying to remove his laptop from his brief case. Expert flyer, my butt.

Cereality

Toaster Sreudel really got the short end of the breakfast food stick. Try hard as it might, it will never be as well liked as the Pop Tart. Don't get me wrong, it is like. Just not well liked. And why not? Flaky pastry, fresh, jammy filling, your own personal packet of frosting; what's not to like? And yet, the Pop Tart will remain the prom queen while the Toaster Struedel smiles through its tears, half-heartedly golf-clapping from the line of other pastry treats in the Breakfast Food Prom Court. (Other such runner-ups would include those packaged cinnamon rolls and apple blintzes. Honey Buns and those disgusting milk and cereal bars stayed home because they couldn't find dates.)

There is also a huge divide in regards to frosted or unfrosted pop-tarts. I discovered this schism (Schism: (n) a divide. My friend taught me to remember this because we were in a language arts class with a kid named Schmidt in the 6th grade. Schmidt is sort of like schism. Not sure why this would remind me of the definition, but apparently it worked) when I was cooped up during a hurricane and all we had to eat were pop-tarts and peanuts. Personally, I prefer frosted. I still remember where I was when I saw the commercial for the Purple Berry ones (whatever flavor that is) and I see the Smore pop-tarts in my dreams. How could anyone prefer unfrosted?