Wednesday's Jubilation

My husband and I were invited to play at Second City this past Wednesday in a show called 4Play. It's three sets, each a different form, then the teachers jam; which is the portion we'd be playing in. Of course we were very honored to be asked, but to say I was a bit nervous is a major understatement.

I was having an "ugly day". My hair looks like I just got out of the pool and let it dry that way. My makeup looks bedraggled, and to add to it made it look cakey, but to smudge at it made it look washed out. I wore my "show clothes" to work, but had reason to reconsider when our friend from Second City advised me in an end of the day email to dress "casual nice." So much for the sweet tee and jeans.

Went home to change and though I didn't really like the way my clothes were looking, headed out anyhow; we had just enough time to get to the theater and figure out something in the area to eat for dinner before we went onstage.

It's 7:07pm and I'm happy to find a metered spot at the corner of Crescent Heights and Melrose; but the sign says "2 hour parking Except Sundays" - it doesn't say "Until 6pm" like the rest of them do. Whatever. We'll go ask the folks at the theater how long the show is and if they think the parking is cool etc. When we get there, there's a young guy sweeping the floor who advises us that the theater isn't open until more like 7:30pm.

I tell him Dave invited us and we just wanted to know A. if where we parked is ok, and B. what is this show exactly (at this point we don't know - we were just invited to "come play").

He assures us we're parked correctly then tells us to come back after 7:30 when they open. Fine. After considering all the closer meters that say "After 6pm" we move my car and decide to walk down the street to look for food. Guess what: there's no such thing as a grab and go type of restaurant for as far as my eyes could see. We walk a few blocks, I have to pee, my blood sugar is plummeting and with every storefront window we pass, I can see how not cute I'm looking. I'm nervous because I don't know what I've signed up for and I'm cranky as a baby and cannot even muster a half-assed fake smile or contribute to his elation at the impending show.

Bless my husband's heart for continuing to walk with me by the way; I might have given an Eeyore like myself the silent treatment at this point.

We realize that there'll be no eating before the show; so let's walk all the way back and check in again at the theater, and I can visit the restroom before I drown in my own urine.

The young guy with the broom greets us once more and we ask him if he's seen Dave. "Dave who?" "Dave Razowsky, he invited us. We're in the show." "You're in the show??" he looks very surprised and is eyeing me specifically. "Yes."
He blinks at me "Are you serious?"
"Yeees?"
"Seriously??" he presses, and I shrink inside myself.
"Yeah. So anyway, where is the restroom?"
"We actually share one with the Improv next door so just go over there and tell them to let you in."

A man with a clipboard is standing outside the Improv, and when I tell him that I am from Second City and need the bathroom he says "No I'm sorry I can't let you in." and just stares at me.
"Are you serious?" After an awkward silence betwen us he says
"Ha ha ha, no, go on in. You should see your face."
No I shouldn't.

There are two dolled up twenty-something girls walking into the restroom just ahead of me and they are in full chat mode as they slam the doors on their individual stalls. "Oh my god! I can't believe she said that to you. What did you do?" There's a pause and the other girl says "Uhhh...I'll tell you in a sec." then continues "OH, so Courtney went over to Jeff's last night!" "Reeeeally? And what did she say?" "Uhhh...I'll tell you in a sec."
Apparently these conversations are stilted on my behalf, afterall there's nothing separating me from them but a few panels of metal, and I might be from the press or something.

I'm sitting there shaking my head at these girls when one of them bursts out with "OH my god! I just ate sushi and my pee STINKS!!"
The other one shrieks "I know! Don't you hate that? I was talking about that with Jill the other day and she didn't believe me! It's totally true, sushi makes your pee fully stiiiink!"

What? How is it not okay for me to hear what some nameless girl did when another nameless girl said something that I didn't hear in the first place? Or what "Courtney" had to say about going over to some guy named Jeff's house - yet it's completely acceptable to let me know how noxious their pee is?

Flush. Flush. Flush.

We all scuttle over to the sinks at the same time, and though there were several available, only I and one of stinky pee girls washed our hands. While we stand there, girl one washes her hands next to me, and girl two stands by weakly smiling at me like you would at an elderly woman in front of you in the grocery line.

One more check in the mirror confirms that I certainly have looked better in my life, but I decide to go give 'em hell at Second City anyhow; and guess what? I had a really great show.