Snow Day!

We had exactly six days off for Christmas break before we were due back in Sioux City, Iowa (airport code: SUX) at 11pm on Sunday. What Barney and friends never considered was that New York's sixth largest blizzard in history was due just a few hours earlier. So, my four o'clock flight out of JFK was cancelled early Sunday morning. Tragically, I used some of this unexpected free time to watch "Eat Pray Love" with Chris. The book wasn't bad, but the movie was. We used the rest of the afternoon to do some shopping for apartment stuff and swing downtown for John's Pizza, the finest pizza I've yet to eat in the city.

My flight was rescheduled for the next day at 4pm, but when I went to check in that night when we got home, it had been cancelled and rescheduled for Wednesday. All New York airports were closed and Delta actually refused to answer their phone. They had a prerecorded voice message explaining, "Due to severe weather circumstances, we are unable to answer our phones." What? Were their hands too cold? Aren't they based in Atlanta? However, I was able to enjoy a second unexpected day off frolicking in the snow, buying new winter gloves and seeing "The Importance of Being Earnest," on Broadway at a "snow discount!" New York = Best City Ever.

Until...I tried to catch a flight the next day, which I had booked and rerouted to our next location on tour, having missed the two shows in Iowa. My flight was initially scheduled for 4pm, then delayed to 5pm. I opted to take the subway to JFK, lest the flight be cancelled, I would not have wasted the cab fare. Oh, I should have wasted the cab fare. The subway part was fine; however, it only took me to the Sutphin station in Queens where I was then supposed to take a bus to an air tran to the airport. The bus and air tran apparently were not working, but this fact was not made public and there continued to be a very long line of confused people. When a bus finally did arrive, madness ensued a la the lifeboat scene in Titanic, but luckily, I got myself on the bus in a tight squeeze of French tourists. The bus did not, however, take us quite to the air tran. It stopped inexplicably somewhere along the highway and we could only gather that we had to get on another bus. Another lifeboat-like scenario ensued, bribes to random drivers on the road were made and refused, and after what seemed like hours I got to the airport, about twenty minutes before my further delayed flight was scheduled to depart. I was rushed through security and ran to the gate just as my name was being called. They hurried me onto the plane, and three hours later the plane took off.

I landed in LaCrosse, Wisconsin around 11pm, but it felt like 3am. I have a strict "no wheels in the snow" policy regarding my suitcase (it's still our first year together), which means I'd been lifting thirty pounds in one hand for a good chunk of the day. My right arm is still pretty shot today. Anyway, I had planned to take a cab to the hotel my company manager booked, but alas, there were none to be found. A very young-looking boy driving the hotel shuttle for the Radisson (not my hotel) was nice enough to take me. I shared the ride with the pilots and stewardess from my plane, which was kind of cool, too.

The company bus picked me up this morning in LaCrosse on the way to Wisconsin Dells, a funky waterpark resort town in the Upper Midwest. It's pretty sunny and warm out, despite the mounds of snow everywhere, so I went for a run past all the cheesy themed hotels. There's one with a fake Colisseum in front, others have huge snow-covered slides and rollercoasters, and there are lots of billboards boasting to be the original home of the Ducks. Unfortunately, a lot of the attractions seem to be closed for the season, but our hotel has an indoor pool that I look forward to sitting in later.

Two shows tomorrow, and then a day off for New Years!

Malls Across America

The past week has been something of a suburban nightmare. I swear I've been inside a mall every day and a Starbucks at least three times. Not that I should be complaining. At first, the thought of this kind of civilization seemed appealing.

We arrived in Merrilville, Indiania in the midst of a snow storm, but the good news was there was a mall with a movie theater not far from the hotel. There was also a bar inside the hotel, which was better news than we realized at the time. So a friend and I set out for the mall. We asked the front desk to call us a cab, and she said one would be arriving in about thirty minutes. We were standing by the front door when five minutes later, 24/7 Taxi rolled up. We entered the vehicle to find a very disheveled man who reeked of cigarette smoke. I attempted to close the door to the van, which looked like it was under construction, and the driver huffed at me, "Ya gotta do it from the outside." I thought perhaps he didn't realize I was actually going on the excursion. I politely said, "Oh, but I'm going, too." He rolled his eyes and wheezed, "No, you get out of the car, shut it halfway, then close it the rest of the way from inside. Jeez!" My knowledge of opening and closing doors in decrepit vehicles clearly leaves much to be desired. He then proceeded to terrify us with his driving through the snowstorm and pulled up to an abandoned movie theatre. My friend noticed the theater looked abandoned, got out to check and confirmed that there was indeed no sign of life to be found. Our chauffeur then rang up his buddy to ask the whereabouts of the other movie theater, and then explained to us he needed to get out more. In the fairly small town of Merrilville, it was difficult to believe someone would not know the location of the single operating movie theater. And yet, during his phone call, Prince Charming was overexerted and decided to enjoy a cigarette with the windows considerately rolled down to keep out the snow, sending me into an allergic coughing fit. He agreed to put it out when I said that I was allergic. The king of consideration himself dropped us off at the proper movie theater, failing to mention that the mall where I was headed was located at the opposite end of the parking lot, so I was forced to run there in the storm, shielding my face from the freezing rain, and simultaneously obstructing my vision of oncoming cars (thankfully, I am fine).

Once at the mall, I was able to do some holiday shopping for my boyfriend, my family and a couple of my friends. But a couple hours later, I looked outside the bookstore to discover the sun had gone down and the storm was even worse. I ran into a friend from tour who was waiting for the esteemed 24/7 cab company to retrieve him. I asked if I could ride back to the hotel with him. Sure enough, it was that delightful face of 24/7 I had met earlier. He seemed equally pleased to be reacquainted with me. Once again, his driving terrified us, and then he went to light up another cigarette, sending me into yet another coughing fit. This time he was kind enough to roll down the window, exposing us to the wintry conditions and joking whether I was still mad at him. Upon our arrival back at the hotel, after running a red light and cursing another driver, the gentleman decided to charge three times the cost that the meter displayed. We were all too weary and cold to argue in the storm. Moral of the story: Don't leave the hotel.

However, the Irish Bar and Grill at the hotel was very good. And the hot tub combined with homemade cocktails was lovely. The bartender made a wonderful special called the "Mint Chocolate Chip Cookie" and it washed down the bitter taste of the showshoe shot I finally sampled. Doing a three show day the next day? Now that was a bit of a challenge. But having my own dressing room? Somewhat divine. We also had our lunch catered by Panera, which was a brilliant decision to lift our spirits and fill our stomachs. Between the second and third shows, we did a holiday photo shoot in all of our costumes, which was super cute, and you can see my favorite one at the top of the page.

After Merrilville came Independence, Missouri, which is not far outside Kansas City, but too far to run. And my faith in cabs had been crushed. So for me, Independence was just another town with a mall, a Starbucks and a Noodles and Company (which, by the way, is the company I am most tempted to buy stock in).

And now here we are, our final city before Christmas break in Wichita, Kansas. I found a running trail this morning, but I can't say it led anywhere terribly exciting. A Super Target, but these have lost their appeal after being on tour for a couple months. I was able to taste the first snowflakes of the day in my mouth. That was pretty cool. I came across a few other runners, which is not a common occurrence in these Midwestern suburbs. We ate dinner tonight at Carino's; it's a chain Italian restaurant, but a very good one. I entrusted my food buddy with the decision, and sure enough he did not fail me. I'm looking forward to eating leftovers tomorrow between our final two shows. And then...New York for six days! Boyfriend! Puppy! Family! Friends! CHINESE FOOD!!!

And...I Went Back

To Chicago, that is. Well, we had an easy day Friday. I worked out at the fitness center, got a massage and did one show. And one of my friends I worked with this summer is now living in Chicago. So I decided to go meet up with her after the show and get a bite to eat (there's not a whole lot to eat in walking distance in Rosemont). She told me to meet her at Julius Meinl on Southport and Addison. Luckily, one of our cast members was driving in, so I had a very warm and relaxing ride there! This place is everything Starbucks wants to be. It's a cafe, but the food is actually good! Excellent, even. We had pear and brie toasted sandwiches that were so fresh it made we want to cry. And as we ate, we also had the pleasure of a live violinist and pianist a few seats away entertaining us with holiday songs. We sipped mate tea and chatted about the past few months since we left New Hampshire. She seemed to be thriving here in Chicago, and I can see why. The city celebrates culture and youth just like New York, but without the rough edge that keeps outsiders afraid of it. Around 11pm, we called it a night, and I set out on what I feared might be a dreadful trip back. Not the case. I took a cab for under $10 to the train station. I freaked out because I only had my credit card and the machines appeared to just take cash, but the station attendant waved me through with a smile. I waited about fifteen minutes for the train - under the heat lamp, this time - and was surprised to see some drunk houligans on the train (just like New York!). The shuttle from my hotel picked me up and whisked me back home. I was hungry at the end of this journey and went to buy an apple at the front desk, but the man smiled at me and said "Don't worry about it!" (or was it, "Fuggedaboutit"?).

Yesterday was our marathon day. We did three shows between 10:30 and 7. My cousins who live in Skokie came to the last one. I pepped everyone up for that last show, but I think everyone's energy had already gone into delirium mode. Which was good. All three shows were actually quite good, I thought. Our audiences were all over a thousand people, and the kids were having a blast. My cousins sat in the third row center, so I had a good view of them the entire time. The little girl, Mia, had a rainbow painted on her cheek, the newborn (4.5 months) was well-behaved in her baby seat and even five-year-old Sammy wasn't too old to have a good time. We visited after the show for a bit and then took off to brave the rain (which I'm told is actually good weather for them right now). Despite eating after every single show putting me at a total meal count of four, I was starved. I again employed the same logic, better to eat in Chicago then scrounge something up in Rosemont. And again, one of our cast members was nice enough to drive us into the city.

Joel, my fine food buddy and I took off down the street while the rest of our crowd got pizza. Literally the next restaurant we came to was a Lebanese place called Kan Zaman and we looked inside and knew. It was perfect. They have these booths where you take off your shoes and then lounge on blankets and pillows set up against the wall. Everyone around us was young and having a great time, drinking wine, making noise, it seemed we had made an excellent discovery. Except - it was BYOB. Our old-fashioned waitress suggested that I wait in the warmth of the restaurant while Joel run to the liquor store and procure some libations. I tipped her very well. He returned shortly with a wonderful bottle of white and we polished it off quickly along with our delicious food. I had a Mediterranean Spinach dish - which was spinach in a spicy tomato-based sauce, with rice, onions, peppers, tomatoes and feta cheese. With every bite, I felt my body repair itself from the demands I put on it that day. Knowing I didn't want to take any home and unable to let any of it go, I devoured the entire thing. And yet. The waitress asked if we wanted any dessert. We asked what she had. The first two sounded ordinary, but then there was the third. Canafe (pronounced ca-na-fay). She described it as a warm cheese covered with baked honey. When we looked at other and hesitated, she urged us, "It's good for you." What could we say? And yes, it was very, very good for us. It was like eating something the gods themselves cooked and ate for special occasions. Feeling too full to move, we paid our bill (reasonable), put on our shoes and could barely feel the cold, satisfied with food and drink as we were.

And then, an expert by now, I took the train back to Rosemont, summoned the hotel shuttle and returned home. Rode the elevator with the tour manager of Bruno Mars (apparently a band) and got into pajamas, assessed one last time that I really do like Chicago, and went to bed.

The Snowy City

Chicago is beautiful! The snow falling on the old buildings, the holiday lights everywhere, the colorful rose emblem of the Rosemont station and the Rosemont Theatre. It's very old world classy.

We're staying in Rosemont, but tonight a few of us ventured into Chicago for some food, fun and theatre. Joel and I went to an acclaimed vegan restaurant called Karyn's which made my mouth water from the moment we walked in. After a long bus ride starting at 6:30 am, during which I ate mostly yogurt, fruit and cereal, I was ready for an actual meal. So I ate enough for three. I had vegan chili with cornbread, a vegan taco salad (heaven) and a glass of mixed berry organic mead. All wonderful. Not to mention the atmosphere was extremely pleasant with its dim lighting, hip decor and great service.

We then caught the Looking Glass Theatre production of Peter Pan. First off, the Looking Glass Theatre has been performing in the Water Tower building since 2003, and it is basically a castle. We were lucky enough to visit as the snow was falling fresh onto the castle's spires and the view distracted us from the bitter cold. The production itself was very contemporary and chic. The actors all began by taking their place in and around the audience, and then engaged the audience to light the lanterns that were strung overhead. The costumes featured harnesses on the outside which the actors all used to fly from the many ropes hanging visibly in the space. For the epic battle between Captain Hook and Peter Pan, they brought in a wheeled ladder and a multi-tiered platform to create an extremely exciting sword fight. The play is much more the story of Wendy than Peter, and her struggle with the roles of daughter, mother to the boys and finally, mother to her own daughter. The actress played the part with such sincerity and innocence that her realization at the end that she is too old to fly was more heartbreaking than ever. The entire production embodied the darker themes beneath Peter's tenacity to youth, the boys' longing for a mother, their frightening display of mob mentality and Hook's own path of overachieving and need for approval that led to his bitterness and demise. It was a grown-up rendition of a wonderful story that probed deeper without losing its inherent joy. I was overwhelmed by how much I enjoyed the production.

Getting to and from downtown wasn't bad either. Our hotel provides a shuttle to the L station, and we (Joel) adeptly navigated the subway system to get to the Michigan Ave part of town. The subways are pretty clean and not too complicated to get around, although the platforms at stations further from the city (i.e. Rosemont) are outdoors, which seems a poor choice for a city with such harsh winter. However, they do have heaters November through March which is a nifty way of keeping everyone warm (not that the natives seemed to mind, I saw plenty of girls in stockings and skirts in this twenty degree weather).

As for tomorrow, our company has brought in a masseuse to alleviate our tired muscles before our intense three show day on Saturday. Let's hope it helps!

Baba Roz's Cookies

Finally, in St. Charles, Missouri, just 25 minutes outside St. Louis, I had some family come see the show. My Baba Roz and Zadie Larry, my grandparents on my father's side, came and brought their friends, the Gellman's, who also saw my tour of Oliver! when it came through St. Charles.

I arranged for them to have a "Meet and Greet," which is basically where friends and family get to take pictures with the cast before the show. This is right up my grandmother's alley. For forty years, she has kept the same camera and I've never seen her without it. Finally, she and Zadie acquired a new one, so we could all preview the various pictures we took just moments after we took them. After the Meet and Greet, I finished getting ready for the show and hit the stage. What a delight to finally have some fans in the audience! This was already the second show of the day, but I had tons of energy. Our audiences in St. Charles were also great - packed arenas and enthusiastic but not too crazy kids. I spotted my Baba and Zadie in the third row house right snapping pictures and pointing me out to their seatmates the entire time.

And after the show, they just kept raving about how good everything was. The singing, the dancing the costumes. They took me to one of St. Louis' esteemed Italian restaurants, Fratelli's, for dinner after the show. They had made a reservation ahead of time, and alerted the owner that they would be coming for dinner with a New York actress in tow. Would he be interested in meeting me? (Yes). And could he make a vegetarian rendition of St. Louis' legendary toasted ravioli? (No). Sure enough, when we sat down, they asked the waitress to bring out the owner for the promised introductions. John, the owner, was very gracious and complimentary and said, yes, he would be honored to have my headshot on his wall, would I please send it right away to my grandparents, and could he recommend the manicotti, he would be happy to prepare it without meat sauce. I said yes and yes. His manicotti was indeed superb, as well as the breaded mushrooms, cavatelli alfredo, and even cappucino. It was one of the best meals I've had in months.

My grandparents also gave me a very cute black sweater for Hannukah that can go over any of my insufficiently warm shirts to protect me against the Midwest winter I seem to be stuck in. And the Gellmans gave me an adorable notebook from a consignment shop - it bears the cover and title page of a used book and is then filled with blank pages. The book is called "Give Us Our Dreams." I thought it was perfect. And ironically, while I couldn't find a menorah in Oklahoma City because they don't exist there, my grandmother could not find a menorah for me in St. Louis because they're all sold out. So it looks like I'll be waiting for our holiday break in a couple weeks to light the candles for Hannukah.

The last thing my grandmother gave me was a small tupperware of homemade cookies. All my life I've heard what a wonderful cook my Baba is. After all, my dad is an excellent cook, and he learned from his mother. I've had several of my dad's dishes which are delicious, and afterwards he will then credit his mother, saying she taught him how to make such and such. I was too full last night after Fratelli's to try even one (plus we were staying at the Doubletree and they gave me a cookie as soon as I walked in from dinner). But after today's four hour bus ride before our four hour rehearsal, I opened the plastic dish. They were oatmeal cranberry white chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter drizzle. And there were only six, because my grandmother knows how healthy I am. I put one in my mouth, bit down, and it tasted...perfect. Not too rich or buttery but like all my favorite flavors just happened to be in my mouth. I've already had two today, and I gave one to Megan, and three more await me. I think I may have another one before bed.

It Had to Get Worse Before It Could Get Better

Our last day in Oklahoma City proved a lot more eventful than any of us would ever have predicted.

We had a fairly average morning matinee, with a fairly average morning audience. Then in the last three minutes of the show, unbeknownst to any of the cast or crew, our female understudy and my good friend and roommate, Megan, rolled her ankle in the finale, one of our most complicated and fast-moving pieces of choreography. Not until our wardrobe master extraordinaire (as I refer to him), John, was carrying her offstage in a princess hold did any of us realize something was wrong. Her ankle was Baby Bop colored green and the size of a tennis ball. She had to be taken to the closest hospital which apparently bore crosses in every room. Whether it be thanks to the intervention of a higher power or sheer luck, Megan was diagnosed with a sprained ankle and prescribed only a week rest from work. In the short time before our next show, we completely re-blocked the show so that our choreography wouldn't look lopsided, and I daresay it was a success. Nerve-wracking to a degree, but no major mishaps ensued. And in dinosaur costumes, that is no easy feat.

Partially to help wring in the first night on crutches, and partially because we were hungry, Megan and I decided to head out for one last good meal in Oklahoma City (they have great Italian food, and who knows what the next city will bring). We asked the concierge if they had a shuttle that could take us over to Bricktown, and we were told to head towards the back entrance. We did. Only to find a stretch white limousine awaiting us like a horse drawn carriage for princesses! We gladly hopped (literally) in, but not before taking a few pictures of our good fortune. We asked our driver, Cliff, to take us back to Spaghetti Warehouse, to which he scoffed, "Why do you want to go there?" We timidly replied, "Um, we thought it was good?" Apparently, we were incorrect. The best Italian restaurant in Bricktown is Zio's, and judging by the huge crowd and astonishing 25-minute wait to get a table, I would assume the rest of OKC is of the same opinion. And rightfully so. The bread was crisp on the outside, soft and buttery on the inside. The caprese salad was perfection, and the ricotta cheese in the vegetable lasagna was some of the best I've ever eaten (the vegetables were a bit too olive-y for my liking, but some may like that). Anyway, it soon became known amongst the waiters that we were from Barney Live!, and then they could not get enough of us. They all wanted to know how we started in theatre, where we were going next, what the show was like. One of the waiters had seen our previous night's performance with his young nephew and raved about it. Crutches and all, we were still the toasted ciabatta of Zio's, OKC's esteemed Italian empire. After a quick dip into the yogurt shop above the canal and a phone call to our driver, we were whisked back to our hotel like well-fed and favored royalty.

I never ran by the canal or lit the menorah for Hanukkah (none to be found), and Megan never did the last performance at the Cox Convention Center (actual name of our venue), but it was certainly an experience and a city we will never forget.

Oklahoma City, Kinda Pretty

Warm, sunny, beautiful architecture, still blooming trees. Basically, a delight of a city, especially after Salina, Kansas. We're staying pretty close to Bricktown which is a very hip part of town located on the canal, with its ducks and water taxis and riverboats. There's lots of live music joints and homestyle Italian restaurants, even a Banjo Museum. Every hour on the hour a fountain at the center of Bricktown goes nuts with a waterworks display. I also passed a statue of Johnny Bench and busts of some other baseball greats in front of the Bricktown Stadium.

I was directed by my friends to a great cheesesteak joint called Texadelphia, which oh so progressively makes a mean veggie philly. And last night, a group of us went and saw Trans-Siberian Orchestra at the Ford Center, which is huge, and tragically makes Madison Square Garden look like a black box and made me a little queasy at first. The show was fun; there was an amazing light show, super cool Christmas music, all in all, a really unique way to spend the first night of Hannukah. The dancing by some of the female vocalists reminded us a little of our own choreography, just a very watered down version plus a lot more hair thrashing.

For the lower Midwest (as this region of the country apparently is known), there are an awful lot of hills. I discovered this on my run yesterday, which was a bit of a change from the flat plains to which I've become accustomed. I ran by the Memorial and stopped to look around for a few minutes. I was completely taken aback by how much it affected me. I barely remember the bombing, I was ten years old, and it was in a completely different part of the country from where I grew up. And yet, seeing the tribute the people of Oklahoma created to honor the victims was very poignant. Living in New York City, whose own terrorist site has gone ten years without any structure built in its memory, I felt such pride for these people. I walked around the wall of children's paint-colored handprints and read the messages they had written. On the lawn were silver and gold chairs laid out like tombstones, for the sun to shine down on. And taking up the most space was a vast body of water, not even an inch deep. You might have stepped in it if you weren't looking. But in this water you could see the reflection of the trees overhead and then experience whatever personal reflections ensued. What a beautiful, classy and significant memorial, exactly what I would wish for the void in my own city.