Current mood:

mega-relieved

This Would Have Been Very Bad
OK, so . . . so just yesterday I posted about my mishaps with exploding Pepsi cans at the office kitchen and how it if I think about it too hard I find it a depressing metaphor for my very well-intended existence but knack for messing things up around me in the course of trying to do the right thing.

Now I have an even stronger metaphor for that. Only this one isn't just depressing - it's terrifying.

I've been trying to minimize the use of my car. This is tough when you work an 8 to 5 job and have 6 o'clock pm performance calls, but I thought at least I could take the bus to get to the theatre for our Sunday matinee. Call is at 1 pm, curtain at 2. And it will still be light when I get out, so, yeah, the bus is the way to go.

I look up when the bus arrives at the stop nearest my place. There's something at 12:30 and something at 12:45. I'll try to catch the 12:30, but the 12:45 will still get me there almost-on-time if I miss it.

I go to the bus stop. I wait. Eventually the wait has seemed like somewhat of a very long time. I don't have a watch. I may need to just turn around and grab the car after all, at this rate. I ask the guy waiting for the bus along with me if he has the time.

Guy: I do! It's 1:50.

Me: 1:50? You mean 12:50?

Guy: No, 1:50. It's almost 2.

Well, holy $%^%#^%$&%&*&^*^*^&(^&(&U#$#@$@F!, if you know what I mean! Curtain's at 2 pm. I was supposed to be there at 1. I've got, like, the third line in the play. They're freaking out. They're going to kill me. I'm soo, sooo sorry. And these are the thoughts that run through my head as I turn around and run fast enough to tear up the ground (we could speculate on Bus Guy's thoughts, too, as he witnesses this crazy maneuvering, but my own thoughts were bad enough):

1. How is the Assistant Stage Manager going to fit into my costume? She's taller and skinnier than me. Also, I'm sure my shoes aren't going to fit her. What am I going to do?

2. Poor cast and crew! They all know this isn't like me. They must think something terrible has happened! They must think I'm dead! Thank you, guys, for being upset that I'm dead, but I'm so so sorry to put you through this. I'm so horrible! I'm coming, I'm coming, I'll be there as soon as I can!

3. People catch wind of gaffes like this. I'm never going to be invited to darken the door of a Bay Area theatre ever again. My life in the theatre: way, way over.

4. How could it be that both clocks I looked at in the apartment were an hour early? Was there some sort of daylights savings event taking place now in the middle of August? Possibly, hopefully, the Bus Guy was just wrong.

So I get to my car and I dive in it, turn it on, and the clock says it is 5 to 1 pm. I'm still going to be a bit late for call, but 5 minutes late is a world different from not showing up until right at curtain time! As I drive, my body is a wreck from the sudden sprint I just put it through. I'm not used to that at all. Goodness gracious me.

I don't fully relax until I actually walk into the theater and the stage manager says "hey" instead of running to me, shaking me, and shouting expletives in my face, which indeed would have been the appropriate thing to do if I had been as late as I feared I was.

So, that was really a horrible few minutes of my life. I'm glad the story has a happy ending.