Half Past Butterscotch

On Monday night, November the 19^th, I was lucky enough to participate in a Daily News Charities sponsored hurricane Sandy relief benefit show.  I was in a short one act titled “Toothbrush” written by Kristen Lucas and co-starred Jeremy Hamilton. 

Last month I worked with Kristen on her feature length play “Dating” that was apart of the Thespis festival.  The following week, she hosted a sketch comedy event in which I also participated. 

A week ago I was visiting family in Western Pennsylvania.  Kristen reached out for available actors for the benefit show.  Even though the show was only a week away, the piece was relatively short. 

Knowing Kristen and her work, I wrote to her saying I was available and interested. I got the part and we began rehearsals in New York the day I returned. 

The play was basically a dialogue that required deep trust and familiarity from the actors.  I hadn’t worked with Jeremy before, but we quickly struck up a friendship. We studied and rehearsed through the week. Due to my hectic work schedule, rehearsals were sometimes in odd places, like public atriums in midtown late at night. I believe the play was successful because of our camaraderie. 

By Monday afternoon, we were fairly comfortable with our roles and we met early to go over the lines once again.  Tech rehearsal was at 5.30pm at the Manhattan Repertory Theatre, across the street from the Port Authority.

Manhattan Rep is considered a “black box” theater, which is basically a raw space painted black with maybe some chairs and risers and no curtain to separate the stage from the audience.  Black Box theaters are very popular for off-Broadway shows.  The costs are kept low, and the space can be quickly and easily reused.   Manhattan rep is a very tiny theater, about 40 seats, mostly on risers, with a small narrow stage.  The dressing room is separated from the room by a black curtain just stage right. 

The tech rehearsal was first time all the acts were at the theater at the same time.  The order of the acts, how the performers will come on and off the stage, and how the sets would be arranged all needed to be coordinated. 

Tech rehearsals can be tedious especially in off-Broadway theater.  Actors are nervous, anxious, and loud.  Usually, the tech guys become easily flustered and feel that they are not being listened to.

Jeremy and I put together our set and then sat in the audience with Kristen as the other acts put together and then took down their sets. 

Fortunately, my scene was the second to go on and the scene before ours was a lady doing a reading.  Once the other performers’ rehearsals were done, Jeremy and I reset the stage for our show.  The dressing room was small and filled to capacity with the other actors preparing for the night. 

Not wanting to be inside the chaotic dressing room, Jeremy and I waited on the stage, sitting on the makeshift couch.  We were talking and occasionally going over lines and blocking.  Kristen was sitting in the audience occasionally laughing with us over side comments and fussing with her phone. 

Kristen is a great and funny soul from Oklahoma.  None of her mid-western pleasantness has been diminished by her time in New York City.  She has an open disposition that is constantly looking for humor in any situation.

Frances, the lady doing the reading to open the show, came out of the dressing room and sat down in the audience.  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her get up a few times, move around a few chairs, mutter to herself, shuffle papers and dig into her bags.  I tried not to pay attention to her.  People have various ways of handling anxiousness and nervous energy that performing live elicits.  I have my tricks and habits that help me focus, relax, and get ready.   

I could see that Frances was looking to engage people to talk, eventually moving her bags and body to the chair next to where Kristen was sitting.  Frances began a conversation with Kristen.  At first, I didn’t look.  I heard Kristen’s polite laugh, giving one word answers, but the conversation was mostly one sided. 

I looked over to Kristen as she made eye contact with Jeremy and me, her eyebrows raised with a ”Hey she’s a little off” suggestion. 

I wasn’t catching every word, but what I did hear seemed to be Frances first gathering information about Kristen, her play, and us, the actors on stage.  Jeremy and I make tight-pained smiles at each other, with a slight tilt of the head and eye rolls. 

Then, Frances stood out of her chair, climbed down the risers, came onto the stage and sat right between Jeremy and me.  I smiled, nodded hello, and tried to not be engaged in conversation.  The woman was disrupting my pre-show comfort zone.  However, Frances continued to not be dismayed, and began ordering Kristen to get her phone and take a picture of all of us. 

Frances speaking style was forced and mannered, sounding almost like a long-term British expatriate.  The question was posed, “where do you come from?”  The answer, a definitive, “Oh, from New York City, born and raised and never left.”  My response, a tight, “of course, that was my first guess.” 

While Kristen was fumbling with the phone, Frances directed Jeremy and I how we should sit.  Her discourse began to turn, her statements becoming odder, more suggestive and slightly bawdy.  

Grabbing our arms, she smiled and said, “I’m just so happy to be in between you two guys.  I just had to get a picture!” with a long emphasis on ‘in between.’

Jeremy and I, perhaps inspired by Kristen’s courteousness, or just trying to be good sports, nodded our heads and tried to politely, if not uncomfortably, laugh at Frances’ goofball statements and innuendos.  He and I made eye contact, and shrugged our shoulders at each other as if to say, this is a bit much, but harmless. 

Kristen took the picture. 

Frances complimented Jeremy’s style, his week old beard, my shoes, my shirt.  

Trying to turn the conversation to something productive, Jeremy asked, “So, Frances, you’re performing before us?”

She responded, “Yes, Yes I am.”

Jeremy and I had talked earlier about trying to find out how long Frances would be on stage before our turn.  I asked, “So, what is it that you're performing?”

“Well it's all types of things…”

Jeremy and I looked at each other.

“Oh, well, how long is your piece?” Jeremy asked. 

“Oh, it's butterscotch,” was her response.  She then made an accordion motion with her hands back and forth.

Stunned, I turned to her and in a dead serious manner asked, “The length of your piece is butterscotch?”

“Yes,” she retorted, as if I was the one who answered a question of time with a confectionary.  “Butterscotch.”

I swallowed, looked over at Jeremy, his face looking as incredulous as I felt.

The theater director called out places and ordered us to return to the dressing room so he could open the house. 

Jeremy and I walked behind the curtain, looked at each other and started snickering. 

I looked and Jeremy and asked, “Did… Did that woman say butterscotch?”

“Yes!” his eyes bright and open.  “Yes, butterscotch!”

I looked at him.  “I did ask, I mean the question I asked.. The question was how long is the piece? And her answer, the answer was….  Butterscotch?”

Jeremy nodded affirmative, barely holding back giggles.

“Oh,” I stated, perplexed.  “Well, ok then.  So, how many minutes exactly is butterscotch?”

Laughing, Jeremy shrugs, “I don't know?  Is it two peppermints??”