Happy New Year! We celebrated by dancing under the stars of the
Caribbean alongside a 2010 ice sculpture, loads of noisemakers and
streamers, and champagne that tasted like Italian dressing (blech). As
you expect, a Conga line was formed.
Things continue to be surreal around here. We live like prison
celebrities (if there is such a thing). We can’t really do anything
for ourselves and must stay on this floating city most of the time.
We used to love not having to cook, clean, or fend for ourselves.
Now, it feels a little captive. And by Wednesday night, after our
shows, everyone on the ship knows who we are and wants a piece of us
in some way. So, we aren’t just performing for the “fans”, we are then
having to live with them. It is so strange!
It’s amazing to me how adored you are when you can make someone laugh.
It’s sort of magical. The audience also feels this familiarity and
ownership of us. People come up and grab me or hug me or say stuff
like, “C’mere honey.” And at first I am paranoid that I must know them
from somewhere because they are so hands-on with me. It takes me a
sec to realize that I indeed do not know them and that they were one
of the 2000+ people in our audience. I get confused.
Often passengers approach us for photos which is always sort of
awkward since it’s usually when we’re eating, or sweating from the
gym, or exiting a bathroom stall. I know I should be flattered and
often I genuinely am. They full of lovely compliments, but there is
always an ulterior motive for the approach. Usually it is one of
three things:
1. To tell me about how their kid was the lead in their school play
and how Second City is their dream job. All while the adolescent
stands their either looking humiliated or dead in your eye as if they
expect you to be wildly impressed by their resume (I always feign
enthusiasm since I am so worried I could be discouraging the next
Meryl Streep if I don’t). And the parent will ask how can you help
them to get into the company, to which I have no idea how to reply. I
just say some cliché remark about working hard and taking classes.
Or...
2. To tell me a joke that kills at all of their office parties. It’s
NEVER funny.
Or...
3. To pitch sketch ideas for our show, “You know what you guys should
do in your next show... (Insert a racial joke about Mexican merchants,
or the Philipino bar staff, or the incessant hand washing here).”
And it’s all too weird.
Speaking of hand washing. I am still afflicted with the GI virus
(called the Norovirus for those medical science geeks). It’s been 9
days. Although I haven’t been on a scale since October, my guess is I
have lost another 2 sizes since my clothes are HUGE! I am aware this
is not a good thing, but I look great!
And finally...
The Miami booking office for Norwegian Cruise Line screwed up the
berthing list so 4 of our cast, including Jeff and I, had to change
cabins. We packed up all of our heavy suitcases and lugged them to our
new and separate homes. It’s odd how quickly one gets used to the
idea of “home”. I can’t help but thinking that someone else is in OUR
cabin even though we only lived there for 6 weeks. I am in a Boundary
Cabin, which is like a passenger-single, but in a crew area. Jeff was
not so lucky, as he is down in the bowels of the ship in a tiny crew
cabin. But he gets Internet from his cabin, so no complaints. And
strangely enough, living in separate cabins is sort of romantic in a
college dorm kind of way.
The fun part of it all is that when I go visit him on his deck, it’s
an adventure each time! In the crew area of the fourth deck of the
ship, there is an enormous grey hallway used for luggage carts, for
loading and unloading. The crew refers to it as “I-95” because it is
always so busy and fast. Jeff lives just off of I-95. On this main
thoroughfare there is often dance music playing. These are familiar
US pop songs redone in Tagalong or Spanish. I’ve noticed that one can
never just walk down I-95. You are involuntarily compelled to groove.
So there is a certain fun energy to the hallway. It’s hilarious to
watch.
I also snuck in to the crew Laundry Room (also off the I-95) and did
my own laundry last night. I wanted to feel like a normal person for
5 minutes. Turns out the machines are European, so one washing cycle
takes 3 hours. The dryer is ineffective unless you let it run for 2
hours! I was up until 3AM and still hadn’t gotten it all done.
Serves me right for not accepting the gifts and privileges of being a
Guest Entertainer (like free laundry service).
Jeff and I have never been more in awe of one another’s talents.
Another gift of this job. And we are continuing to use our time well
by working on creative projects and enjoying the ride! We will be
discussing another contract tomorrow. Stay tuned...
Caribbean alongside a 2010 ice sculpture, loads of noisemakers and
streamers, and champagne that tasted like Italian dressing (blech). As
you expect, a Conga line was formed.
Things continue to be surreal around here. We live like prison
celebrities (if there is such a thing). We can’t really do anything
for ourselves and must stay on this floating city most of the time.
We used to love not having to cook, clean, or fend for ourselves.
Now, it feels a little captive. And by Wednesday night, after our
shows, everyone on the ship knows who we are and wants a piece of us
in some way. So, we aren’t just performing for the “fans”, we are then
having to live with them. It is so strange!
It’s amazing to me how adored you are when you can make someone laugh.
It’s sort of magical. The audience also feels this familiarity and
ownership of us. People come up and grab me or hug me or say stuff
like, “C’mere honey.” And at first I am paranoid that I must know them
from somewhere because they are so hands-on with me. It takes me a
sec to realize that I indeed do not know them and that they were one
of the 2000+ people in our audience. I get confused.
Often passengers approach us for photos which is always sort of
awkward since it’s usually when we’re eating, or sweating from the
gym, or exiting a bathroom stall. I know I should be flattered and
often I genuinely am. They full of lovely compliments, but there is
always an ulterior motive for the approach. Usually it is one of
three things:
1. To tell me about how their kid was the lead in their school play
and how Second City is their dream job. All while the adolescent
stands their either looking humiliated or dead in your eye as if they
expect you to be wildly impressed by their resume (I always feign
enthusiasm since I am so worried I could be discouraging the next
Meryl Streep if I don’t). And the parent will ask how can you help
them to get into the company, to which I have no idea how to reply. I
just say some cliché remark about working hard and taking classes.
Or...
2. To tell me a joke that kills at all of their office parties. It’s
NEVER funny.
Or...
3. To pitch sketch ideas for our show, “You know what you guys should
do in your next show... (Insert a racial joke about Mexican merchants,
or the Philipino bar staff, or the incessant hand washing here).”
And it’s all too weird.
Speaking of hand washing. I am still afflicted with the GI virus
(called the Norovirus for those medical science geeks). It’s been 9
days. Although I haven’t been on a scale since October, my guess is I
have lost another 2 sizes since my clothes are HUGE! I am aware this
is not a good thing, but I look great!
And finally...
The Miami booking office for Norwegian Cruise Line screwed up the
berthing list so 4 of our cast, including Jeff and I, had to change
cabins. We packed up all of our heavy suitcases and lugged them to our
new and separate homes. It’s odd how quickly one gets used to the
idea of “home”. I can’t help but thinking that someone else is in OUR
cabin even though we only lived there for 6 weeks. I am in a Boundary
Cabin, which is like a passenger-single, but in a crew area. Jeff was
not so lucky, as he is down in the bowels of the ship in a tiny crew
cabin. But he gets Internet from his cabin, so no complaints. And
strangely enough, living in separate cabins is sort of romantic in a
college dorm kind of way.
The fun part of it all is that when I go visit him on his deck, it’s
an adventure each time! In the crew area of the fourth deck of the
ship, there is an enormous grey hallway used for luggage carts, for
loading and unloading. The crew refers to it as “I-95” because it is
always so busy and fast. Jeff lives just off of I-95. On this main
thoroughfare there is often dance music playing. These are familiar
US pop songs redone in Tagalong or Spanish. I’ve noticed that one can
never just walk down I-95. You are involuntarily compelled to groove.
So there is a certain fun energy to the hallway. It’s hilarious to
watch.
I also snuck in to the crew Laundry Room (also off the I-95) and did
my own laundry last night. I wanted to feel like a normal person for
5 minutes. Turns out the machines are European, so one washing cycle
takes 3 hours. The dryer is ineffective unless you let it run for 2
hours! I was up until 3AM and still hadn’t gotten it all done.
Serves me right for not accepting the gifts and privileges of being a
Guest Entertainer (like free laundry service).
Jeff and I have never been more in awe of one another’s talents.
Another gift of this job. And we are continuing to use our time well
by working on creative projects and enjoying the ride! We will be
discussing another contract tomorrow. Stay tuned...
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