It’s been a few days since my last confession. Here we go:
Audition #2 has happened…for a show arriving on Broadway later this year called “Lysistrata Jones”. If you’re interested, it’s a retelling of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata…instead of the Athenian women going on a sex strike until their soldier husbands end the Pelopennesian War, the cheerleaders at Athens U are doing so until their basketball playing boyfriends do something to end their losing streak. (I was going for the understudy role of the muse/narrator). I’ve finally figured out that these required calls, while beneficial for sharpening up your audition technique, are rarely good for much else. So I go early, sign up, leave and return later to sing my heart out. Finally, the moment comes…the monitor calls my name and opens the door…I walk in…and I swear I see a juice box and a fruit roll up on the desk. The “casting director” looked about 12 years old! Yes, my friends. Clearly it was bring-your-daughter-to-work day! Long story short, I sang my song and got out. She thanked me and complimented my shoes, so it wasn’t a total loss.
She would’ve loved being with us last night as we walked past the Al Hirschfeld Theatre on our way back home, though. She would’ve had to fight her way through a fan or two, but she would’ve gotten a some quality time with Daniel Radcliffe as he was leaving his theatre. What a circus that was! John Larroquette was out there signing autographs as well…there’s something about him that’s always appealed to me.
Last story: On our way uptown last week, my husband and I got on the 1 train and found 2 seats available on a 3 person bench. I ended up sitting between Tony and a 60’ish black guy who was involved in a lively phone conversation that went a little like this:
BG: You ain’t gonna lose no weight, you fat #$%#!! You gotta stop eatin’ first! ya nasty mother*&$#%!!! You ain’t gonna do it you fat piece of @#%^&!! You ain’t nothin but a #&%*@!! %$@***!! %&*##!!
YIKES. I see Tony’s mouth going to a straight line and his brows starting to knit together, and I knew where this was going…I did NOT want him engaging with crazy man and maybe inspiring him to louder and more enthusiastic rants. I ‘m telling him to just let it go. He doesn’t and says:
T: Hey, man. You don’t need to be cursing like that in front of my wife.
The man backed down, can you believe it? Quieted right down, took a hit off his fifth of whisky, then, using a combination of sheepishness and bravado, started telling Tony he was a “triple OG from back in the day, and don’t take nothin’ from nobody. My sons been shot, I been shot, and I’m still here.” He got off at the next stop, but made sure to bid us good day before he left.
That’s my Tony. Making friends wherever he goes! And looking out for me. I am so incredibly grateful to have him in my life. Now, if I can just remember that when he leaves one square of toilet paper on the roll–baby steps, folks. Baby steps.