Best Day Ever

This blog entry began with two swigs of Southern Comfort. Just a little something to loosen the typing fingers.

I was working at NofriendoLand today, as usual. A grandmother came to the game area with her two grandsons. After about 45 minutes of going from game station to game station, the grandmother looked at me and shook her head.

"I don't know how you all do it. I've only been here for one hour and already I've got a splitting headache. What do you do when you go home in the evenings? Drink?"

To which I replied without hesitation, "Ma'am, it's like you read my mind."

Six o'clock rolled around and I began the walk home, thrilled at the prospect of a Monday night all to myself. Don't get me wrong. I'm terribly grateful to be doing a fourth show in New York City, however off-off it may be (and still slightly beaming at my characterization being described in a recent review as "vivid"), but make no mistake: doing Kingly the 2 six nights a week sucks. It sucks HARD CORE.

What's even more grating is how oblivious the director seems to be. Even the guy playing Kingly is ready for our raggedy little show to be over. We're scheduled to have a show on the 4th.

"Doing a show about a bunch of obscure British monarchs on the 4th of July? That's...un-American," said one of our cast members. She went on to say, "Who's that big of a schmuck to be in New York City on the 4th of July and go see an off-off Broadway production of SHAKESPEARE instead of going to see the fireworks?"

Word spread quickly through the cast to uninvite every family member, friend, and schmuck who was considering attending our Independence Day performance. No audience = no show, right?

We got an email from the director this morning.

"Hey gang! Just wanted to let you know we've got at least two people reserved for the 4th of July!"

It's funny how, as I sighed upon reading those words, I could literally feel the sighs of the 14 other cast members who were reading this email at the same time--cast members who really wanted to go to Coney and see the hot dog eating contest, throw back a few Jell-o shots, then head out to see the fireworks.

Maybe it'll rain. Who knows?

I walked home from NofriendoLand, thinking of all the things I could do with my evening. I got in and checked my mail. That's when I looked up and saw the posting on the bulletin board.

Dangit! The first tenant association meeting is tonight! And it starts in two minutes!

I threw my stuff in the apartment and turned right back around, heading for the garden about a block away where the meeting was to be held.

I was met with a bunch of middle aged folks who introduced themselves. Most of them had lived in that building for about a decade and, since the building had recently fallen into a serious state of disrepair and neglect, they finally decided to form this tenant association to see if they couldn't get a few things taken care of...

...like, for example, the front door which no longer shuts. It just stays open. All the time.

"And which apartment are you in?" they asked.

"I'm in apartment 2."

Their eyes went wide.

"OOOH! You're the FIRST!"

"The first since HER!"

"The first person to brave the apartment since SHE moved out!"

"Well, there WAS that other girl."

"Yes, but she only stayed for a few months. No sooner did she arrive than she packed her bags and was gone again."

"Excuse me," I said. "What do you mean by 'brave the apartment'? What happened there?"

They looked at one another as if collectively wondering who should spill the beans and if they thought I could handle it.

"She was a witch."

"A Turkish witch!"

"If I were you, I'd get a bundle of sage and hang it in your apartment."

"She was a horrible woman."

"JUST horrible."

"She would hold our mail hostage."

"That's right. She would pick up our packages while we were out during the day. Then she'd come to our apartments in the evening and say, 'UPS drop off package for you. You want? You have five dollars?'"

"She also held some old woman hostage, I heard."

"No, that's TRUE! It wasn't a rumor!"

"No!"

"I'm a masseuse by trade and she would stop me in the halls and say, 'I see men coming and going! You are an evil woman! Don't think I don't know what's REALLY going on in your apartment!'"

"She would post these ads in the paper...in the romance column. These men would show up to meet her thinking she was this exotic young belly dancer--"

"Apparently, that's what she was in the old country."

"--and they would feel so sorry for her that they'd take her to dinner, then dump her off somewhere as soon as they got the chance."

"She was the world's biggest pack rat. When they cleared out her apartment they found piles and piles of old newspapers. She even kept her garbage. Bags and bags of it."

"She was such a fire hazard they finally turned off her gas."

"But still she wouldn't get rid of her junk. Instead, she'd come knocking on my door knock knock knock 'Excuse me--may I bake potato?' NO! You may NOT bake potato, I said."

"I think someone died in there."

"No. TWO people died in there."

"I know her sister was dead for days."

"Yes. Then there was another woman who died there. They rushed her to the hospital, but the doctors said she was already dead as a doornail."

"Both of them in there. Dead for days."

"She would wander around the streets at night. She had this little dog she'd walk late at night... and she wore this bright red wig."

"Oh! The red wig! I remember that thing!"

"And remember when she moved out?"

"Here for years and years and years...longer than any of us..."

"And one day...she disappeared."

About that time--as I was about to say, "What do you mean she disappeared?"--the meeting got underway.

Why do I feel as though my life has just taken a major turn for the weird?

A Turkish Witch.