~Dany, Tia, Miranda, Dave, Matt, Collen, and Terry
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Merry Christmas & Happy Hanukkah!!!
Dear readers thank you for all your support. We are thankful to have continuous support from loved ones, who can enjoy all of our adventure through this blog. We wish you Happy Holiday's during this winter season. Happy New Years!!!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Wedding
Final I have the Wedding!!! The video loaded after I converted the file to a smaller format. Oh technology your so smart.
~Dany
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Photos of The Road- Catch-Up
Big Nana (The Truck) breaks down in the middle of the desert
Terry realizes that Colleen is the best girlfriend ever
Our truck-stop Thanksgiving dinner
Terry and Dave ride motorcycles across the country
Reserved for Artists
Dany "Legs" Guy
Terry realizes that Colleen is the best girlfriend ever
Our truck-stop Thanksgiving dinner
Terry and Dave ride motorcycles across the country
Reserved for Artists
Dany "Legs" Guy
Friday, December 5, 2008
Las Vegas: So i'm guessing you guys aren't racist?
Las Vegas. A city of lights, lust, and gambling...basically the perfect place to spend an enchanted day off. Miranda, Dave, Matt, Dany and I decided to do a quick walking (crutching) tour of some of the strip. We walked (crutched) through Caesar's Palace where we had some yummy gelato and then we saw the fountain show at the Bellagio. At this point it became clear that our poor bunny needed some rest and relaxation so we went back to the hotel where she had some alone time in the room while Dany and I ventured to the hot tub.
Upon arrival we were informed that the jets were not working, but as the long as the tub was indeed hot we were sold. After a few moments Dave joined us followed by two unknown men. Dave's stay was brief and so Dany and I found ourselves alone with said men. One of the men can only be described as Beevus from Beevus and Butthead as he was super skinny, had obnoxiously blonde hair,and a very creepy smile. The other was a military man with a short brown buzz cut. After friendly small talk we found out that they are both from Orlando, Florida. Beevus works in construction while the other is currently serving in the military. They asked us about relationship status (ie. if Dany has a gf...giggle giggle) and why we were here in the first place. We explained the tour and so forth and eventually began to talk about Iraq. Military man explained that he is in constant rigorous training and spoke briefly about killing people in Iraq. Beevus replied, "It won't be good enough until we have killed every last one of those towel heads". Now...at this point Dany was doing his best to keep a straight face and because I where every single emotion blatantly on my sleeve for the world to see, i decided to put my horrified face in my hands. Beevus continued this conversation by showing us a burning cross tatoo on his shoulder which in this case was clear proof of his stance as a white supremest.
Beevus makes the astute observation that it becoming harder and harder for Dany and I to keep it together and in a last ditch effort to continue the conversation he poses the question, "So i'm guessing you guys aren't racist?"...to which I couldn't even formulate a response and to which Dany replied flatly, "no." Beevus asked this question as though he was hoping we would be, as though we would cry out, "but of course...isn't everybody?"
i mean...isn't everybody a little bit racist sometimes?
Alas poor Beevus, the answer is sometimes...not all the time.
~Tia
Upon arrival we were informed that the jets were not working, but as the long as the tub was indeed hot we were sold. After a few moments Dave joined us followed by two unknown men. Dave's stay was brief and so Dany and I found ourselves alone with said men. One of the men can only be described as Beevus from Beevus and Butthead as he was super skinny, had obnoxiously blonde hair,and a very creepy smile. The other was a military man with a short brown buzz cut. After friendly small talk we found out that they are both from Orlando, Florida. Beevus works in construction while the other is currently serving in the military. They asked us about relationship status (ie. if Dany has a gf...giggle giggle) and why we were here in the first place. We explained the tour and so forth and eventually began to talk about Iraq. Military man explained that he is in constant rigorous training and spoke briefly about killing people in Iraq. Beevus replied, "It won't be good enough until we have killed every last one of those towel heads". Now...at this point Dany was doing his best to keep a straight face and because I where every single emotion blatantly on my sleeve for the world to see, i decided to put my horrified face in my hands. Beevus continued this conversation by showing us a burning cross tatoo on his shoulder which in this case was clear proof of his stance as a white supremest.
Beevus makes the astute observation that it becoming harder and harder for Dany and I to keep it together and in a last ditch effort to continue the conversation he poses the question, "So i'm guessing you guys aren't racist?"...to which I couldn't even formulate a response and to which Dany replied flatly, "no." Beevus asked this question as though he was hoping we would be, as though we would cry out, "but of course...isn't everybody?"
i mean...isn't everybody a little bit racist sometimes?
Alas poor Beevus, the answer is sometimes...not all the time.
~Tia
Arizona
Where to begin. I’m writing this blog at 12:15 Pacific Time crossing the Mojave Desert in the truck listening to a German metal band called Ramstein. We departed Phoenix, AZ this afternoon at 4 pm for a 5 hour drive to Rancho Cucamongo, CA (real name). In theory we should have been there at 9 pm mountain time 8pm Pacific Time, so we should have arrived 4 hours ago. What went wrong you ask? Well rational adults, sit back and hear a tale.
Today’s adventure started, well… today. We don’t need any backstage hands for our show. It’s completely self-contained and the actors do anything that needs to be run backstage (which is minimal) however this morning we were given a stagehand named Zen to help us out. Zen was about 55, long hair in a pony tail held together by a decorative metal clasp, native American looking metal earrings and loved to make jokes that were not funny. Zen watched us do the show once and did nothing because we didn’t need him there. Then he watched us do the show again and did an even better job of doing nothing. I guess his name is fitting.
At lunch Zen started telling me jokes that weren’t funny and I pretended to laugh… like you do. Somehow we got onto a discussion of metaphysics which is a topic of great interest to me (that’s not a joke). As we talked Zen had some really interesting things to say. He talked about how the Trinity idea in Judeo-Christian beliefs mimics the make-up of atoms (3 separate parts creating one greater whole)… interesting and insightful. Then he went on to say something about numerical orders and how when you look closer at atomic make-up you keep finding a 6 and a 6 and then a 6. “666” he said, “the number of mankind.”
Time out.
Everyone knows that 666 is the number of the devil. I know this not because I’m religious or even believe in the devil but I now that 666 is the number of Satan because I own the Iron Maiden album “Number of the Beast” and it clearly states the following bible passage at the beginning of the title track,
(For effect please read the following passage aloud in your best heavy metal faux Shakespearean orator voice)
“Woe to you oh earth and sea, for the devil sends the beast with wrath for he knows the time is short. Let him who have understanding reckon the number of the beast for it is a human number. It’s number is six hundred and sixty-six.”
Then the bitchin’ guitar kicks in and Bruce Dickinson wails away on vocals. See!? So my first red flag about Zen was raised.
My next red flag about Zen was raised when he proceeded to tell Colleen and me that in 1989 he traveled to a different solar system. I told him that I have been meaning to travel to another solar system I just keep dragging my feet and need to just go and worry about the consequences of reality later. Apparently Zen traveled there at the speed of thought. He told me how many miles a second that is but I think that Zen’s thoughts may travel a little slower than most people’s because of how much pot he’s smoke. That being said, it’s still pretty fast. Zen explained to me that while in this other solar system he met The three suns. These giant gaseous balls of fire told him that they were not only the forefathers of our forefathers but that they were the forefathers of our solar system. Deep. Zen asked his spirit guide what that meant and his spirit guide whisked him back to earth at the speed of stoner thought and told him that he had to figure it out for himself. Zen then went on to tell Colleen and me that he really enjoyed talking to us. Apparently most people have a hard time talking about stuff like that. Who’d have thought? Then Zen gave me a business card with his website on it. The website is www.bethedream.net. Enjoy!
Now you might have thought that was more than enough crazy for one day, I know I thought so, but the day was just beginning. Later on our way out of Phoenix we needed to gas up before we hit the road. I needed to use the bathroom and apparently the gas station we picked didn’t have public bathrooms. This happens at a lot of gas stations and it’s bulls*&t. So I jaywalked across a state highway instead of using the crosswalk only 200 feet away. After I made it to the other side I promised God I would NEVER jaywalk across a highway again. Then went to clean the crap out of my pants in Walgreens bathroom. While walking through the parking lot I saw a 50 year old woman missing multiple teeth sitting in the side door of a minivan dressed in a brightly colored Snow White costume with braided pig-tails and clown make-up smoking a cigarette. If there hadn’t been a brown loaf of pure fear in my pants from jaywalking I would have stopped to ask where the over-the-hill Disney parade was. When I came back out I decided to keep my promise to God (or The three suns or whatever higher power) and use the crosswalk. When I got to the crosswalk who was there? Yup Trailer Park Snow White.
Snow White had a friend with her who saw me and said very assertively “Merry Christmas!” I smiled, returned the greeting and then waited for the signal to turn. Snow White’s friend then said twice as assertively, “Happy New year too!” This time I noticed that the two of them had really big signs with them made of wood with some sort of protest message painted on them with green and red paint. I learned that Snow White’s friend’s name was Bonnie but apparently she goes by AJ. Okay.
AJ Bonnie was sitting in one of those three-wheeled electric scooters that senior citizens ride around in. AJ Bonnie was about 5’6” and about 275 lbs with a very short haircut, a ball cap and a Tom Sellack moustache. AJ Bonnie told me that she and Ancient Snow White were protesting a Christmas tree lot just down the street that AJ Bonnie used to work at. According to her, AJ Bonnie used to be an outlaw but now she’s found Jesus. I loved that she used the word outlaw. I just kept imagining her with a black cowboy hat and a red hankerchief pulled up over her nose and mouth with a six-shooter chasing around Wells Fargo trucks and telling them to reach for the sky. AJ Bonnie told me that at one point she was number 9 on the FBI’s most wanted list but she recently “got legal.” (Don't you have to kill someone to make the FBI's top ten?) She said that after she got legal her employer, a crooked Christmas tree salesman, fired her because she was too good and would expose his unethical and possibly illegal practices. Apparently her employer uses lots of chemicals and pesticides to preserve the trees and these chemicals are the reason that AJ Bonnie can’t walk anymore.
This is where reality dropped in. I don’t know how much of AJ Bonnie’s story was true (although she did look like she could have killed and eaten me in a crazy-rage and then she and Trailer Park Snow White would eat my bones at a Schitzo party with other serial killers dressed as the Mad Hatter, Winnie the Pooh and man dressed as Cinerella) but it is clear that she didn’t have full use of her legs and she didn’t solicit me for money once (which was what I was expecting). She just told me not to buy a Christmas tree from her old boss and to tell everyone else not to buy Christmas trees from there. Then just when I was feeling really bad for AJ Bonnie she gave me some flyers to hand out to everyone I knew so they didn’t buy a Christmas tree from what sounds like the modern-day Grinch. To give you the full effect of the flyer I’ve transposed it in the exact syntax and page format as it appears written in sharpie on an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper.
I might not be Clyde
Or Bonnie
But wait a minute
I am Bonnie aka AJ
I’m not Thelma or Louise
Or these new outlaws
I have turned my life to
Christ
Because of Christmas trees and Santa
Might whoever that may be
I have a story to tell
Once was an outlaw
Now trying to live a life of
Christ
Once I got legal
And did a change
There was no need for me!!
It then goes on to list her phone number and mailing address. In the margins notes are written in pen that read “Donations Great” “Just started getting doctors” “Won’t have a holiday without you” “Fired!” As I said good-bye to toothless Snow-White and AJ Bonnie they asked me to hand out about 20-25 flyers. So far I’ve left at least 7 of them on fast-food restaurant tables, truck stop bathrooms and a few windshields so that the rest of Arizona and Southern California can experience the crazy with me.
After we escaped Zen, AJ Bonnie and Crazy Clown edition Snow White we stopped at a truck-stop for dinner. Matt mentioned that the truck’s temperature gauge was getting pretty hot. We bought some coolant and had to wait one hour for the truck to cool down. We got milkshakes at Carl’s Jr where about 9 local police officers had come right after a paintball tournament wearing shirts that said “Police” on the front and “The Enforcers” on the back and were covered in paint. We went back to the truck, filled it up with coolant and hit the road. About ¼ of a mile down the road from the truck-stop the truck overheated and died. We could see the truck-stop we came from but couldn’t get back to it without the truck possibly catching fire and walking was out of the question because at night in the desert there are SCORPIONS! At this point I began to believe that it was my destiny to die in Arizona and I just wasn’t taking the hints given to me all day.
We called a tow truck who showed up in less than 5 minutes but he didn’t have the parts to fix the truck so he disappeared for an HOUR AND A HALF while we crammed 7 people into a van that comfortably fits 5 people and the scorpion parade was in full effect outside of the van. After taking a nap with my head up Dave’s butt and my foot in jammed into Dany’s mouth the tow truck guy came back and fixed the truck and gave us the following guarantee,
“It might make it to China or it might make it ten miles.”
Whatever happened to lying? I remember in the good ol’ days a tow truck guy would lie to you to make you feel like you would live. So I ran across the scorpions got in the truck and here we are in the middle of the Mojave. Maybe we’ll make it to China or maybe Arizona will get me after all. If you’re reading this online I guess I lived, if you are a member of the FBI and you found this laptop in a pile of wrecked truck, theatrical supplies, puppets and scorpions I guess Arizona has claimed me. It’s only 20 miles to California… RUN.
-Terry
Today’s adventure started, well… today. We don’t need any backstage hands for our show. It’s completely self-contained and the actors do anything that needs to be run backstage (which is minimal) however this morning we were given a stagehand named Zen to help us out. Zen was about 55, long hair in a pony tail held together by a decorative metal clasp, native American looking metal earrings and loved to make jokes that were not funny. Zen watched us do the show once and did nothing because we didn’t need him there. Then he watched us do the show again and did an even better job of doing nothing. I guess his name is fitting.
At lunch Zen started telling me jokes that weren’t funny and I pretended to laugh… like you do. Somehow we got onto a discussion of metaphysics which is a topic of great interest to me (that’s not a joke). As we talked Zen had some really interesting things to say. He talked about how the Trinity idea in Judeo-Christian beliefs mimics the make-up of atoms (3 separate parts creating one greater whole)… interesting and insightful. Then he went on to say something about numerical orders and how when you look closer at atomic make-up you keep finding a 6 and a 6 and then a 6. “666” he said, “the number of mankind.”
Time out.
Everyone knows that 666 is the number of the devil. I know this not because I’m religious or even believe in the devil but I now that 666 is the number of Satan because I own the Iron Maiden album “Number of the Beast” and it clearly states the following bible passage at the beginning of the title track,
(For effect please read the following passage aloud in your best heavy metal faux Shakespearean orator voice)
“Woe to you oh earth and sea, for the devil sends the beast with wrath for he knows the time is short. Let him who have understanding reckon the number of the beast for it is a human number. It’s number is six hundred and sixty-six.”
Then the bitchin’ guitar kicks in and Bruce Dickinson wails away on vocals. See!? So my first red flag about Zen was raised.
My next red flag about Zen was raised when he proceeded to tell Colleen and me that in 1989 he traveled to a different solar system. I told him that I have been meaning to travel to another solar system I just keep dragging my feet and need to just go and worry about the consequences of reality later. Apparently Zen traveled there at the speed of thought. He told me how many miles a second that is but I think that Zen’s thoughts may travel a little slower than most people’s because of how much pot he’s smoke. That being said, it’s still pretty fast. Zen explained to me that while in this other solar system he met The three suns. These giant gaseous balls of fire told him that they were not only the forefathers of our forefathers but that they were the forefathers of our solar system. Deep. Zen asked his spirit guide what that meant and his spirit guide whisked him back to earth at the speed of stoner thought and told him that he had to figure it out for himself. Zen then went on to tell Colleen and me that he really enjoyed talking to us. Apparently most people have a hard time talking about stuff like that. Who’d have thought? Then Zen gave me a business card with his website on it. The website is www.bethedream.net. Enjoy!
Now you might have thought that was more than enough crazy for one day, I know I thought so, but the day was just beginning. Later on our way out of Phoenix we needed to gas up before we hit the road. I needed to use the bathroom and apparently the gas station we picked didn’t have public bathrooms. This happens at a lot of gas stations and it’s bulls*&t. So I jaywalked across a state highway instead of using the crosswalk only 200 feet away. After I made it to the other side I promised God I would NEVER jaywalk across a highway again. Then went to clean the crap out of my pants in Walgreens bathroom. While walking through the parking lot I saw a 50 year old woman missing multiple teeth sitting in the side door of a minivan dressed in a brightly colored Snow White costume with braided pig-tails and clown make-up smoking a cigarette. If there hadn’t been a brown loaf of pure fear in my pants from jaywalking I would have stopped to ask where the over-the-hill Disney parade was. When I came back out I decided to keep my promise to God (or The three suns or whatever higher power) and use the crosswalk. When I got to the crosswalk who was there? Yup Trailer Park Snow White.
Snow White had a friend with her who saw me and said very assertively “Merry Christmas!” I smiled, returned the greeting and then waited for the signal to turn. Snow White’s friend then said twice as assertively, “Happy New year too!” This time I noticed that the two of them had really big signs with them made of wood with some sort of protest message painted on them with green and red paint. I learned that Snow White’s friend’s name was Bonnie but apparently she goes by AJ. Okay.
AJ Bonnie was sitting in one of those three-wheeled electric scooters that senior citizens ride around in. AJ Bonnie was about 5’6” and about 275 lbs with a very short haircut, a ball cap and a Tom Sellack moustache. AJ Bonnie told me that she and Ancient Snow White were protesting a Christmas tree lot just down the street that AJ Bonnie used to work at. According to her, AJ Bonnie used to be an outlaw but now she’s found Jesus. I loved that she used the word outlaw. I just kept imagining her with a black cowboy hat and a red hankerchief pulled up over her nose and mouth with a six-shooter chasing around Wells Fargo trucks and telling them to reach for the sky. AJ Bonnie told me that at one point she was number 9 on the FBI’s most wanted list but she recently “got legal.” (Don't you have to kill someone to make the FBI's top ten?) She said that after she got legal her employer, a crooked Christmas tree salesman, fired her because she was too good and would expose his unethical and possibly illegal practices. Apparently her employer uses lots of chemicals and pesticides to preserve the trees and these chemicals are the reason that AJ Bonnie can’t walk anymore.
This is where reality dropped in. I don’t know how much of AJ Bonnie’s story was true (although she did look like she could have killed and eaten me in a crazy-rage and then she and Trailer Park Snow White would eat my bones at a Schitzo party with other serial killers dressed as the Mad Hatter, Winnie the Pooh and man dressed as Cinerella) but it is clear that she didn’t have full use of her legs and she didn’t solicit me for money once (which was what I was expecting). She just told me not to buy a Christmas tree from her old boss and to tell everyone else not to buy Christmas trees from there. Then just when I was feeling really bad for AJ Bonnie she gave me some flyers to hand out to everyone I knew so they didn’t buy a Christmas tree from what sounds like the modern-day Grinch. To give you the full effect of the flyer I’ve transposed it in the exact syntax and page format as it appears written in sharpie on an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper.
I might not be Clyde
Or Bonnie
But wait a minute
I am Bonnie aka AJ
I’m not Thelma or Louise
Or these new outlaws
I have turned my life to
Christ
Because of Christmas trees and Santa
Might whoever that may be
I have a story to tell
Once was an outlaw
Now trying to live a life of
Christ
Once I got legal
And did a change
There was no need for me!!
It then goes on to list her phone number and mailing address. In the margins notes are written in pen that read “Donations Great” “Just started getting doctors” “Won’t have a holiday without you” “Fired!” As I said good-bye to toothless Snow-White and AJ Bonnie they asked me to hand out about 20-25 flyers. So far I’ve left at least 7 of them on fast-food restaurant tables, truck stop bathrooms and a few windshields so that the rest of Arizona and Southern California can experience the crazy with me.
After we escaped Zen, AJ Bonnie and Crazy Clown edition Snow White we stopped at a truck-stop for dinner. Matt mentioned that the truck’s temperature gauge was getting pretty hot. We bought some coolant and had to wait one hour for the truck to cool down. We got milkshakes at Carl’s Jr where about 9 local police officers had come right after a paintball tournament wearing shirts that said “Police” on the front and “The Enforcers” on the back and were covered in paint. We went back to the truck, filled it up with coolant and hit the road. About ¼ of a mile down the road from the truck-stop the truck overheated and died. We could see the truck-stop we came from but couldn’t get back to it without the truck possibly catching fire and walking was out of the question because at night in the desert there are SCORPIONS! At this point I began to believe that it was my destiny to die in Arizona and I just wasn’t taking the hints given to me all day.
We called a tow truck who showed up in less than 5 minutes but he didn’t have the parts to fix the truck so he disappeared for an HOUR AND A HALF while we crammed 7 people into a van that comfortably fits 5 people and the scorpion parade was in full effect outside of the van. After taking a nap with my head up Dave’s butt and my foot in jammed into Dany’s mouth the tow truck guy came back and fixed the truck and gave us the following guarantee,
“It might make it to China or it might make it ten miles.”
Whatever happened to lying? I remember in the good ol’ days a tow truck guy would lie to you to make you feel like you would live. So I ran across the scorpions got in the truck and here we are in the middle of the Mojave. Maybe we’ll make it to China or maybe Arizona will get me after all. If you’re reading this online I guess I lived, if you are a member of the FBI and you found this laptop in a pile of wrecked truck, theatrical supplies, puppets and scorpions I guess Arizona has claimed me. It’s only 20 miles to California… RUN.
-Terry
Monday, December 1, 2008
My Achilles Ankle
We came to Elyria, OH after the busiest week of our tour. We had been in Pittsburgh, PA for five days at five different venues and had performed seven shows. All that stood between us and our comparatively vacation-like drive across the country were two tiny shows in Elyria. We loaded in Sunday night and came to the theatre Monday morning ready to kick the shows out of the water. The space was perfect, the crew was sassy and wonderful, and the kids were excited. The shows were probably two of our best. I was really proud that all of us in the cast could rise above our exhaustion and still perform a great story. That pride was filling me as I turned to exit the stage for the last time. I executed my tombe, pas de bourre, glissade and grand jete into the wings. As I flew through the air I thought, “this is it! A great performance and now five whole days of rest for my poor body.” Then, I landed.
My final exit has always made me uncomfortable. I have to leap into the black wings basically blind because my eyes are adjusted to the very bright light of the stage. Several times I have nearly hurt myself. On Monday, November 24, 2008, I did hurt myself. Because I couldn’t see where I was going, I landed on the bottom of the “leg” curtain. Theatre curtains are weighted with chains so that they don’t blow around during performances. My right foot came down on the chain with all the force of my leap, buckled, and twisted under me. The next few moments were complete confusion. Pain shot up to my ears. The cast had all seen what happened and whispered questions about my well-being. I can’t remember how I responded, but it was enough that they knew I wasn’t ok. Dave grabbed me a chair before he got on-stage for his bow, and I sat and tried not to think about the worst-case scenario.
It wasn’t the worst-case scenario. The clinic doctor described my condition as a high-grade sprain. Nothing was broken or torn, just badly twisted and over stretched. I know it may sound strange, but some of my favorite memories of my fellow company members are from the hours immediately following my injury. Emergencies tend to bring out either the worst or best in a person and every single member of the company shone as they helped me. They did, apparently, forget how to do our curtain call without me leading them, and awkwardly looked at each other before taking hands (something we have never done) and slowly bowing. Aside from that, they were exactly the people I needed to have surrounding me. Dave was at his best as two parts of his personality appeared. His gruff stunt man came out when, immediately after I knew I was badly hurt, he bluntly told me to sit down and that I was OK. His tone of voice and command were exactly what I needed because I had frozen in place and was truly panicking. Later, the warm company manager Dave came out as we drove to the ER and he told me funny stories to cheer me up. He then carried me into the emergency room. A very old main in the waiting room yelled to me, “It’s lucky you’ve got a muscle man!” Dany proved his superior survival skills in the minutes after the show had ended. While the others on stage waffled about how to best move me into the dressing room to change, Dany scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed no more than a teddy bear. He brought me to the dressing room, set me on a chair, and exclaimed, “Could everyone please leave?! I’m going to undress her now.” And, he did. In my regular clothes, I was still very panicky and asked Dany to bring me some water. Instead he brought me a juice box because he knew that the sugar would calm me down. I couldn’t believe it, but in minutes I was breathing normally. It was the straightest hour of Dany Guy’s life. Dany left to change out of his own costume, and I looked up at the girls of our tour. Colleen came over to put her arms around me, and I completely broke down. As I was starting to cry Colleen said, “Yes, Miranda. Cry. You just cry as hard as you can. Don’t you stop until you get it all out.”
Before we left for the hospital Dave and Terry arrived from the drug store bearing gifts of ibuprofen, ice packs, and ace bandages. These two men, who spend a lot of time talking about martial arts and punching each other, also brought me a big red balloon and a box of candy canes. They then told me that if I ever did the jump off-stage at the end of the show again, they would punch me in the ankle. Tia, my wife, was the member of the company who stayed with me at the hospital. We waited and waited and then waited some more. As we were sitting there, I tried very hard not to consider the possibility that my ankle was broken. I tried so hard not to think about it that it was the only thing on my mind. In an effort to distract me, Tia picked up a coloring book meant for a kid who was going to the emergency room for the first time. She began to read it aloud to me, even showing me the pictures as though it was first grade story time. We got to the page about the reasons a person may go to the emergency room. Tia read, “You may have to visit the E.R. if you fall down, or if you bump your head, or even if you may have…,” here Tia paused before finishing, “twisted a bone.” She then finished the story substituting different phrases any time the possibility of breaking a bone was mentioned. She actually skipped an entire page. What a wife. After I was finally looked at and ex-rayed, (nothing broken, a high grade sprain, crutches and an air cast), I crutched out to the waiting room to find my entire company smiling at me. As we left, Matt turned and said, “don’t worry, Miranda, you’re replacement is already on her way in.” It wasn’t true, of course, but it kept me chuckling as we walked to the van.
…. One week later the ankle is healing well. I’m off crutches and did two shows yesterday. Around the ankle bone is still pretty swollen, but the rest of my foot is normally sized, and some very pretty greens and blues are starting to appear. I’ll be sure to up-date the blog with any changes in its condition.
~ Miranda
My final exit has always made me uncomfortable. I have to leap into the black wings basically blind because my eyes are adjusted to the very bright light of the stage. Several times I have nearly hurt myself. On Monday, November 24, 2008, I did hurt myself. Because I couldn’t see where I was going, I landed on the bottom of the “leg” curtain. Theatre curtains are weighted with chains so that they don’t blow around during performances. My right foot came down on the chain with all the force of my leap, buckled, and twisted under me. The next few moments were complete confusion. Pain shot up to my ears. The cast had all seen what happened and whispered questions about my well-being. I can’t remember how I responded, but it was enough that they knew I wasn’t ok. Dave grabbed me a chair before he got on-stage for his bow, and I sat and tried not to think about the worst-case scenario.
It wasn’t the worst-case scenario. The clinic doctor described my condition as a high-grade sprain. Nothing was broken or torn, just badly twisted and over stretched. I know it may sound strange, but some of my favorite memories of my fellow company members are from the hours immediately following my injury. Emergencies tend to bring out either the worst or best in a person and every single member of the company shone as they helped me. They did, apparently, forget how to do our curtain call without me leading them, and awkwardly looked at each other before taking hands (something we have never done) and slowly bowing. Aside from that, they were exactly the people I needed to have surrounding me. Dave was at his best as two parts of his personality appeared. His gruff stunt man came out when, immediately after I knew I was badly hurt, he bluntly told me to sit down and that I was OK. His tone of voice and command were exactly what I needed because I had frozen in place and was truly panicking. Later, the warm company manager Dave came out as we drove to the ER and he told me funny stories to cheer me up. He then carried me into the emergency room. A very old main in the waiting room yelled to me, “It’s lucky you’ve got a muscle man!” Dany proved his superior survival skills in the minutes after the show had ended. While the others on stage waffled about how to best move me into the dressing room to change, Dany scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed no more than a teddy bear. He brought me to the dressing room, set me on a chair, and exclaimed, “Could everyone please leave?! I’m going to undress her now.” And, he did. In my regular clothes, I was still very panicky and asked Dany to bring me some water. Instead he brought me a juice box because he knew that the sugar would calm me down. I couldn’t believe it, but in minutes I was breathing normally. It was the straightest hour of Dany Guy’s life. Dany left to change out of his own costume, and I looked up at the girls of our tour. Colleen came over to put her arms around me, and I completely broke down. As I was starting to cry Colleen said, “Yes, Miranda. Cry. You just cry as hard as you can. Don’t you stop until you get it all out.”
Before we left for the hospital Dave and Terry arrived from the drug store bearing gifts of ibuprofen, ice packs, and ace bandages. These two men, who spend a lot of time talking about martial arts and punching each other, also brought me a big red balloon and a box of candy canes. They then told me that if I ever did the jump off-stage at the end of the show again, they would punch me in the ankle. Tia, my wife, was the member of the company who stayed with me at the hospital. We waited and waited and then waited some more. As we were sitting there, I tried very hard not to consider the possibility that my ankle was broken. I tried so hard not to think about it that it was the only thing on my mind. In an effort to distract me, Tia picked up a coloring book meant for a kid who was going to the emergency room for the first time. She began to read it aloud to me, even showing me the pictures as though it was first grade story time. We got to the page about the reasons a person may go to the emergency room. Tia read, “You may have to visit the E.R. if you fall down, or if you bump your head, or even if you may have…,” here Tia paused before finishing, “twisted a bone.” She then finished the story substituting different phrases any time the possibility of breaking a bone was mentioned. She actually skipped an entire page. What a wife. After I was finally looked at and ex-rayed, (nothing broken, a high grade sprain, crutches and an air cast), I crutched out to the waiting room to find my entire company smiling at me. As we left, Matt turned and said, “don’t worry, Miranda, you’re replacement is already on her way in.” It wasn’t true, of course, but it kept me chuckling as we walked to the van.
…. One week later the ankle is healing well. I’m off crutches and did two shows yesterday. Around the ankle bone is still pretty swollen, but the rest of my foot is normally sized, and some very pretty greens and blues are starting to appear. I’ll be sure to up-date the blog with any changes in its condition.
~ Miranda
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