I managed to get to sleep a little earlier (there were no fire engines or
helicopters), so I was a little more rested Thursday. I was still yawning, mind
you, but I wasn’t as sleepy as I’d been on Wednesday.
Because of the early call, I took the subway again with no trouble. I was
still a little wool-headed from my Meniere’s, but it was nothing I couldn’t
work through (assuming it didn’t get any worse).
Tech is rarely exciting. It really is a process of “hurry up and wait.” (When
I direct, I tend to blame the actors for wasting time; when I’m acting, I tend
to blame the director and designers). The only real event of the day was a
photo call at 1:00. For reasons I didn’t quite understand (union rules?), we
had to cram what is normally a long process into a very short time. We were all
rushing around, throwing costumes on and/or taking them off, doing our hair (or
not), and trying to figure out what the setups were and who was doing what in
them. I have no idea how good they were or what they’ll all look like, but I
suppose I’ll find out when the reviews start coming in—as they will,
inevitably.
We took a dinner break at 4:00, and I walked over to 58th and the
acupuncturist I’d made an appointment with. The office is in the basement of
what I guess is a combination apartment house/medical building (there were a
lot of dicey-looking doctor’s offices—though one supposes that, in that area,
the rents are high enough that the practitioners are legit). I had to check in
(with the custodian, but check in I did) before going downstairs to the office.
The reception room was small, and as I walked in, I saw enough shoes on the
floor to alert me that I should take my own off. I sat, filled out the forms
(which basically stated that I agreed to having needles stuck into me), and
waited. I was a little early for the appointment, and was grateful to have a
chance to just sit and close my eyes.
After a few minutes, another guy walked in and went through the door
marked “Restrooms.” When he didn’t come back out after a few minutes, my keen
detective skills told me that either he was really distressed or there was more
behind that door than just the bathroom. Eventually, he opened the door, called
my name, and ushered me into a large (I mean, really large) dark room with some
desks and massage tables. A few months ago, Pidge and I did a “ghost tour” of
the USS Hornet in Alameda. What that meant was they took us through the ship
with the lights off and we tried to detect paranormal activity. (I’m not a
believer, but it felt like something was going on.) Anyway, at one point they took
us to sick bay, and this room felt something like that; endless stretches of
darkness and beds …
Okay. It's obviously not endless or that big,
but there was a lot of room
He asked me what my symptoms were, so I described them (wooziness,
pressure in my ears, impaired hearing, tinnitus, etc.) and he told me the best
course would be to do a face-up session, and that I should take my socks off
and roll up my pant legs. I did, and he came back a few minutes later, rubbed
some alcohol on my feet, shins, forehead, and scalp, and stuck the needles in
the places he thought appropriate. I hasten to add here that, in all of the
acupuncture sessions I’ve had—and I’m becoming an old hand at it—I’ve never had
any real pain from the needles; in most cases, I barely feel them, so I
encourage anyone who’s leery about the whole “pain from getting stuck” thing to
overcome that and go; it’s always really helped me.
That done, he turned out the light and told me to relax and that he’d be
back later. That done, I got to lay there in the dark and just relax and doze.
I have to admit the music that was playing was an odd mix. In my usual sessions,
my therapist plays what I can only describe as “massage/new agey;” lots of soothing
flutes, soft percussion, and nature sounds. This soundtrack was a mixture of
soft rock, oldies, jazz (an Ella Fitzgerald song I’d never heard), Chinese, and
other stuff I missed while sleeping. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means; it was
just (as Pidge’s mother would say) “a duke’s mixture.”
The Ella Fitzgerald song. (With the verse,
I thought it might be a Cole Porter song.)
After what must have been a half-hour, he checked in with me (I was
fine), and after probably another fifteen, he brought in another patient, sat
her on the bed next to mine (they’re all separated by curtains), questioned her
about her own symptoms, stuck her with needles, and left us both alone. After
about another fifteen minutes, he came back, removed my needles, and left.
Whether it was from the treatment or the chance to doze for an hour, I
have no idea, but I felt completely relaxed and much better. I still had some
ear pressure and tinnitus, but there was a definite improvement. I finally
managed to sit up (I really wanted to take a nap) and put my socks on, then
went over to his desk and got his recommendations for a follow-up (which mainly
involved more treatments).
I left and, to my surprise, found it was raining. Not hard, but enough to
really soak things. I still had about a half-hour before we were due back at
the theatre, and had intended to stop at the sandwich place I’d gone to on Tuesday,
but was in such an altered state (in a good way) that I completely forgot to
notice I’d passed 6th Avenue. I didn’t want to turn around once I’d
hit 5th, so I figured I’d pick up something at the Starbucks near
the theatre. It turned out there was a deli next to the Starbucks, so I went
in, got a reasonably-decent turkey-and-gouda Panini, and headed back to the
theatre.
The original plan had been to wrap tech up in the afternoon, then do a
run-through Thursday night, but since tech still wasn’t finished, that went out
the window and we continued to tech almost all of the rest of the show. I still
wasn’t feeling great, but did feel better in that the pressure in my ears had
lessened and I didn’t feel as woozy.
We broke just before 11:00 and I took the 6 home. Even though the rain
had pretty much stopped, the streets were kind of empty of pedestrians, and it
was a pleasure to walk home without the usual crowds. I arrived and went to bed
relatively early. Even though we had a later call on Friday, we were doing a
run in the afternoon before our preview, and I wanted to be as rested as
possible.
In a side note to my comments yesterday about my audience, I’ve further been told that one of the things people find interesting about this here blog is all the food I’ve been eating at the restaurants I’ve been going to. With that in mind, I will endeavor to keep describing them. On to Saturday. We were again doing staggered calls, so I wasn’t called until 1:30. We were back at the Flea in TriBeCa, and since my call was late, I decided to walk to the theatre. It’s just a little less than two miles, and since the weather has apparently decided to stay nice (currently 68 with 63 percent humidity), it felt like a perfect day to do it. I had my choice of two routes; one would have taken me east on Houston, then south on Broadway, but I opted for the southern route, down Avenue B (which becomes Clinton on the other side of Houston) to E. Broadway, then Worth to Broadway. It promised to be a more interesting route, and (as I learned) since it went right through Chinatown, it was. Wh...
I won’t say this is my first day off (I mean, there was that two-week break before rehearsals started), but it was my first day off after the show started running, so it’s close enough. I slept late (because I could) and decided that this was the day to visit the Houdini Museum of New York on 35 th . I thought about walking, but the weather was crummy enough to dissuade me. (Both times when I went out today, I won’t say it was drizzling, but it was like the humidity in the air had congealed to the point where there were drops in the air—though not enough to call rain). I took the N uptown, got off on 34 th , and my unerring sense of direction had me go the wrong way not just once, but twice (I’m still convinced I was walking westbound on 35 th when I was actually going east). I arrived at the office building the museum is in, and took the elevator to the 4 th floor. There were two women going to the 4 th floor as well, and when the one in front of my suddenly produc...
Pidge left today, and there was much sadness. It feels like she was here about five minutes, so that week just shot by. The day began with her getting up before me to pack (it didn’t take her long), then the two of us walking down Avenue B to go to a little place called Post for brunch. I don’t normally eat breakfast (eggs and pancakes tend to sit like lead in my stomach; waffles aren’t bad), but she does, and this place offers an avocado biscuit (which also has a slice of Parmesan, a fried egg, and tomato), which is right up her alley. We walked in and were the only people in there, but others soon came in. We sat at the counter and ate (I had an immense—and good—biscuit with butter and jam) and talked and participated in a conversation the guy behind the bar was having with two woman who were, apparently, from Los Angeles. (We were all talking about Los Angeles-related subjects, anyway.) Post. "As big as a minute," as my mother would say. My breakfast. One...
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