day five: no little black dress

day five: no little black dress

last night i should have been in a sexy dress, flitting through hank azaria's dressing room. instead, i was standing on a street corner, hoping not to be arrested as i guarded 2 cases of champagne, which though i didn't pay for and weren't my idea, somehow all ended up under my name... this is not exactly n'awlins, and it is not exactly legal to either hold open liquor, drink it, or pass it out. the show streets where the strikers march are lined with police--

it's kind of funny actually. what do they expect? that the stage hands are going to revolt? start throwing things? an all out brawl between them and the parents with their sobbing children mommy, where's the grinch?!

instead, the police meander about, the strikers pace with their signs and fliers, friends meet up chat and gossip. passers by take pictures, throw out a "keep on," honk the horns of their lexuses.

and then there's me, awkwardly standing under the farnsworth invention marquee, eyeing the police, holding my cups behind my back. Dodgers tipped off the press and called the director and the actors. i know these peoples' home addresses, their emails and phone numbers and all sorts of other information that you don't like to think is filtering through the system, but they don't know me. but the nice thing about the theatre is that even the tony winners and the big stars are really just people. they look like people, they act like people, and really, on the whole they're pretty nice.

some help popping the corks, start passing out the champagne, and everyone's happy. aaron sorkin called and the phone was held up for everyone to cheer. mr. azaria stayed away, but the director, the other "stars," the head of equity, and of the local 1 were all out. oh, and me.