A break from talking about France…
Since becoming a full-on, professional (i.e. paid) company member at a local improv theater company I’ve been lucky enough to get a few gigs:
1) Was a Green Lake Power Walker for a local insurance company. Their marketing ploy is presenting various Northwest stereotypes (i.e. The Pea Patch People, The Compulsive Recycler, The Extra-Long Coffee Drink Orderer), and then saying ‘we’re a lot like you.’ For those of you in Seattle you’re all familiar with the women who cycle Green Lake with their strollers, bottled water, and smart conversation. They’re a perfect target for a marketing ploy. I arrived at Green Lake on the one nice day of the year: last Saturday. (I had to actually put on sunscreen). I wore a horrible visor with a Hawaiian print, a fanny pack, and black yoga capris. I was armed with a broom (in order to sweep up the pathway), promotional bottled water, and dog treats. I wore a white shirt with my stereotype on the front and was joined by two other improvisers. We walked Green Lake for FOUR hours, two and a half times around, when the lake was like Lollapalooza–wall to wall people trying to get out into the rare sunny day.

Now, no surprise: people don’t want to be bombarded by a marketing campaign while they’re trying to exercise. They are open to their dog getting a treat–which was the most successful tactic. The NW stereotype trading cards the insurance company gave us to pass out were not received well–but no matter, we found other ways to entertain: I made a big deal of running up ahead and sweeping up bits of debris from the walking trail. I led our group in a series of stretches on the grass. I approached a pony-tailed man having lunch with his kid and asked if he’d like a bottle of water. He was totally thrown, trying to figure out who I was and actually asked, “Where is it bottled?’ I said, “Gosh, I don’t know let’s look together…hmm, Cedar Rapids…does that work for you?” One of the improvisers I was working with snorted under her breath, “Where was it bottled…such a northwest response.”

2) Second gig was being an audience member for a local northwest talk show. We sat in the audience and cheered, asked the guests questions, and clapped politely on command. I have to say I enjoyed the experience immensely but the whole broadcasting thing was so cheesy, so painfully saccharine I wanted to barf. A mother gets on stage and tells how she took out loans to pay for her obese daughter’s 6,000 a month tuition at a glorified fat camp. “Obesity runs in my family and I didn’t want her to go through what I went through as a child,” the mother explained. I kept thinking, that’s fine but what about you? Couldn’t you have spent that $6,000 on a gym membership and then committed yourself and your daughter to a program together? Are you really throwing in the towel for yourself and sacrificing it for your 15 year old?

The second guest was far more interesting: the homeless tree house builder. You know, the guy who built a huge house in the trees under the Aurora bridge? The city, stuck with visions of the whole thing collapsing on a pedestrian and being sued, shut the man and his tree house down. The fellow was there with a few neighbors who find the whole thing quaint and not a problem at all. I had been prepped with the question: “Do you have a history of building? Construction? Foraging?” and during the comercial break pause they were rushing around. “Mara? Where’s Mara? OK, we like your question, you’re going to ask it when prompted…can we get the boom mike? Can you hover the boom mike?” My big moment! I asked the guys around me if I looked okay and if I should take off the natty red scarf I’d tied around my neck. (”Are you ready for this?” I asked the man sitting in front of me who would undoubtedly be in the shot).

Turns out I didn’t get a chance to ask my question. The homeless builder was far too compelling to be interrupted. He launched the interview by stating, “I get along with animals better then I do with people…animals only attack when prompted, people lash out in all sorts of ways…I built my tree house at the hands of God.” There was a ripple as everyone recognized: “Oh, this guys is CRAZY.” It would have been funny had the man not broken down and started crying half way through the interview. You could see the producer waving furiously at the interviewer trying to get him to move on–crying homeless men on talk shows are only good for a few seconds before it starts becoming uncomfortable. Even a segment on an Ambush Make Over couldn’t uplift the audience after that.

Despite the tragedy, it was a lovely experience. Turns out being in the studio audience is just as fun as I had expected…even if I didn’t get to ask my question.