Leigha Horton :: Green room
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Two posts in one day – can you believe it? I can’t either. But this is important:

August and January are, by far, the best months of the year for theater in the Twin Cities. So much so, they make me downright giddy. August, as you all know, marks the esteemed Minnesota Fringe Festival; and January, as you might not know, marks the Walker Art Center’s Out There series – four straight weekends of new multi-disciplinary works by national and international artists. This stuff is gritty and shiny and inspiring – it’s how I was introduced to the director and the playwright of the show I’m now in at The Children’s Theatre. And if that weren’t cool enough, there’s Inside Out There – a masterclass with that week’s artists every Saturday morning at 11 am – for a measly $6.

Seriously – $6 to meet and learn from some fantastic artists making fantastic work – this is Connection Central here, folks.

I don’t work for the Walker anymore, so I don’t have an ulterior motive – just a significant desire to see an incredible program reach as many Twin Cities artists as possible. So GO! And then tell me all about it (my rehearsals directly conflict with the classes this year). Call the Walker, right this very minute, 612.375.7600, x 4, and make your reservations. You can thank me later.

The mornings here are quiet. I wake up without an alarm clock between 9 and 9:30, stare at the ceiling until I’m compelled to move, then shuffle into the living room and turn on the computer. There are always a good eight or nine greenroom comments waiting in my inbox, all spam because I haven’t posted here in several weeks.

I then usually attempt to start a new post about my experiences thus far at The Children’s Theatre, mostly out of guilt for being silent for so long, but realize that I don’t have much to say. It’s not that there isn’t a lot happening – there is – it’s just that I’ve been so ensconced in the process of this show that I haven’t been able to step back enough to write about it.

Until last night’s rehearsal, when I was told to go home.

It all started with a cold that took root Monday evening, New Year’s Day, which then avalanched over the next 24-hours into the stomach flu. By some stroke of luck I wasn’t called in to rehearsal on Tuesday. Wednesday I reluctantly called the Stage Manager, asking to be excused. By Thursday’s rehearsal, I was able to walk around my apartment and finally keep down crackers and water, so figured I should attend.

Even after arranging a ride from a friend, I was exhausted by the time I got to the theater. Getting in and out of the car was enough for one day, but I plodded onward. When my scenes arose, I gave it everything I had (while trying to keep my face and possible contagion away from the other actors), but it just wasn’t enough. After an hour and a half (of a scheduled six hours), the director stopped me and said that I looked terrible. I said that I was okay to be there if I took it slow, I was just worried about getting too close to the others. He finally, kindly but firmly, told me that I needed to go home.

I was stunned speechless. I didn’t know how to respond, I just felt like a failure. What happened next was all just a blur…I’m not certain what I said, but I think an, “I’m sorry,” was in there somewhere. The Walk of Shame commenced when I had to retrieve my script from one side of the room before exiting out the other – accompanied by the whole cast vocalizing their sympathies.

I got another eleven hours of sleep last night. So far I feel much better than yesterday, but still sluggish. I’ll wait until later this afternoon to make the call on whether or not I can handle rehearsal – after all, the only thing worse than walking the Walk of Shame is walking it twice.