I learned something yesterday: Don’t jump to conclusions, otherwise you’ll look and sound like an ass. Here’s the story: I’ve been rehearsing for the “L Project” for a month now. The bulk of our rehearsing is done on Sundays, where I usually put in about 6 or 7 hours at a stretch. Each piece (Loss, Lonely, Link, etc) is given an hour’s worth of rehearsal time. One day we’ll do full runs of the show (one day) but until than I’ve resorted to the world’s longest rehearsals on Sunday. Ideally we’d meet every night for an hour, but these dancers are, ah, how to put it: “Not doing it for the money.” So I must accomodate them as graciously as possible. Plus, in this small community dancers are coveted by other companies so I am competing for rehearsal time fairly regularly. Anyway, we get to a certain point yesterday and I receive a message that two of the dancers are striking for a recent production. I get all huffy because, what the hell, they don’t have to strike…can’t they say they have rehearsal and get over here? I’m all mad because now I can’t rehearse with the two of them missing. I go on a tangent about how F.C. theater sucks, why make your performers strike, and the disadvantages of using them as free labor. I’m super bitter but we stumble through anyway without them.
An hour later they arrive, and I meet them at the door all ready to confront their tardiness. Allison starts off saying, “We’re so sorry, it’s been a really bad week.” I look over, and there’s Theresa crying. So, I immediately soften, because CRYING, well, there’s no need to cry over missing rehearsal. Allison continues: “You know that bi-plane that crashed yesterday in Fort Collins? Well it crashed in front of our house.”
Ok. So, I’m the biggest asshole in the world. For one, I was lying around the house on Saturday, I had no idea that there was a major plane crash two miles away…appearantly it shut down that whole part of town, sent a message across the emergency broadcast system, and resulted in three fatalities (the poor chaps in the plane). Fort Collins is nearby a very small airport that hoasts many 2 engine bi-planes belonging to local wealthy people. It seems every year some poor guy goes out in subpar weather and falls out of the sky. But in someone’s front yard, well that’s a new one. And in front of Theresa and Allison’s house, I’ve never heard of anything so wild. Allison was at work, but Theresa saw the aftermath complete with explosions. The oil from the plane ignited a parked car and than seaped into the sewage system causing the manhole covers to blow into the air from underground explosions. And she saw the three men inside the plane.
And here I was fussing over them missing rehearsal. For cying out loud! ASSHOLE. I should have lowered my guard. As it was, I was extremely sympathetic and all over myself apologizing. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I witnissed something so outrageous. At this point I’m really worried about Theresa…and not thinking at all about my stupid rehearsals.