I'll follow you
I've Spent the Night Dancing, I'm Drunk I Suppose
I awoke suddenly, jolting up from a nightmare. All I could remember was a crab…a giant crab. ‘No more listening to Dane Cook before bed’, I told myself. I blinked my eyes a few times, trying to wake up, and then rolled out of bed to get a cup of coffee. As I pulled myself into the kitchen, Griffen ran up beside me. I patted him on the head, and then proceeded to the coffee maker. I sat down at the table, and it was only then that I decided to look at the clock.
“DAMN”, I breathed. It was 10:12. I had to be at the theatre in eighteen minutes. I practically fell out of my chair, and darted into the bedroom to get changed. After pulling on a pair of gray jeans, buckling my studded belt, and going through my whole ‘which black t-shirt should I wear today?’ ordeal, I went to the closet to get my combat boots. They weren’t there. I was incredibly sleep-deprived, so my first thought was ‘GODDAMNIT, BRAD PITT!’ (do not ask), but when I thought more logically about it, I realized Frankie must’ve taken them.
I sighed. “She’s gonna get hell for this”, I muttered to myself. If I didn’t love her to death, I probably would’ve killed her by now (and that makes sense when you think about it). I pulled on my Vans and a pair of arm warmers, grabbed my coat, and ran back into the kitchen. After making sure Griffin’s bowl was full, I noticed a message on the white board. ‘Murder Was the Case That They Gave Me, XO Frankie’. I smiled, despite the fact that that song would be stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I realized I’d probably be back pretty late, considering we had a performance that night, so underneath her message, I wrote ‘I’ve spent the night dancing, I’m drunk, I suppose <3 October’, quoting ‘Sharpest Lives’, by My Chemical Romance. It made almost NO sense to my situation, but I wasn’t as clever as her in that way.
It was now 10:25. My coffee wasn’t ready yet, but I didn’t have time to wait for it. I grabbed my bag, phone, and iPod, and ran out the door. I nearly ran into the wall next to the elevator, but missed it by THAT much. After frantically pressing the down button multiple times, the elevator finally arrived. I stepped inside, pressed L, and watched the numbers blink as I passed the different floors. 46, 45, 44, 43, 42. We lived on a pretty high floor, which is basically why I never went out on the balcony (acrophobia- fear of heights). Well, I didn’t really like being outside anyway.
I ran through the lobby, and out the door, completely ignoring the greetings from the front desk attendant and the door man. I hailed a taxi and jumped inside. After giving the driver the address of the Palace Theatre, I pulled out my headphones and turned my iPod on shuffle. ‘Woman of Mass Distraction’ by Alice Cooper started to play. I hummed along to the words.
She’s a woman, some kinda woman. I got a woman, a woman of mass distraction.
The theatre was just down the street from our apartment, but when I say ‘down the street’, and we’re talking about New York City, it’s BLOCK AND BLOCKS down the street, and through massively condensed traffic. Finally, I arrived at the theatre. I paid the driver and sprinted around the side of the building. Once inside the stage door, the director, Bill, was waiting for me.
“And where were you?!” he questioned. I stood in the door way for a moment, thinking of an excuse.
“Bill, you’ll NEVER believe what happened to me”, I began, “I was in my apartment, getting ready to come here, when I was suddenly possessed by an evil spirit. Our neighbor had to call an exorcist to banish the ghost. Once that was over, on my way here, my cab passed a burning building, and I had to rescue a little boy and his puppy from the flames. THEN, I had to run back home and change so that my clothes weren’t all covered in ash for rehearsal. I got here as fast as I could, but I guess my traumatizing experience and my heroic act slowed me down.”
He stared at me for a moment, obviously not believing my story (and I don’t see why). Finally, he spoke. “You haven’t had your coffee this morning, have you?” I nodded. He chuckled a little. “There’s some Starbuck’s waiting in your dressing room.” Without another word, I ran off to consume as must caffeine as physically possible.
Once on stage, we rehearsed six songs and ten scenes, took a break, and then ran pretty much the rest of the play. What can I say? It was a slow morning.
“DAMN”, I breathed. It was 10:12. I had to be at the theatre in eighteen minutes. I practically fell out of my chair, and darted into the bedroom to get changed. After pulling on a pair of gray jeans, buckling my studded belt, and going through my whole ‘which black t-shirt should I wear today?’ ordeal, I went to the closet to get my combat boots. They weren’t there. I was incredibly sleep-deprived, so my first thought was ‘GODDAMNIT, BRAD PITT!’ (do not ask), but when I thought more logically about it, I realized Frankie must’ve taken them.
I sighed. “She’s gonna get hell for this”, I muttered to myself. If I didn’t love her to death, I probably would’ve killed her by now (and that makes sense when you think about it). I pulled on my Vans and a pair of arm warmers, grabbed my coat, and ran back into the kitchen. After making sure Griffin’s bowl was full, I noticed a message on the white board. ‘Murder Was the Case That They Gave Me, XO Frankie’. I smiled, despite the fact that that song would be stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I realized I’d probably be back pretty late, considering we had a performance that night, so underneath her message, I wrote ‘I’ve spent the night dancing, I’m drunk, I suppose <3 October’, quoting ‘Sharpest Lives’, by My Chemical Romance. It made almost NO sense to my situation, but I wasn’t as clever as her in that way.
It was now 10:25. My coffee wasn’t ready yet, but I didn’t have time to wait for it. I grabbed my bag, phone, and iPod, and ran out the door. I nearly ran into the wall next to the elevator, but missed it by THAT much. After frantically pressing the down button multiple times, the elevator finally arrived. I stepped inside, pressed L, and watched the numbers blink as I passed the different floors. 46, 45, 44, 43, 42. We lived on a pretty high floor, which is basically why I never went out on the balcony (acrophobia- fear of heights). Well, I didn’t really like being outside anyway.
I ran through the lobby, and out the door, completely ignoring the greetings from the front desk attendant and the door man. I hailed a taxi and jumped inside. After giving the driver the address of the Palace Theatre, I pulled out my headphones and turned my iPod on shuffle. ‘Woman of Mass Distraction’ by Alice Cooper started to play. I hummed along to the words.
She’s a woman, some kinda woman. I got a woman, a woman of mass distraction.
The theatre was just down the street from our apartment, but when I say ‘down the street’, and we’re talking about New York City, it’s BLOCK AND BLOCKS down the street, and through massively condensed traffic. Finally, I arrived at the theatre. I paid the driver and sprinted around the side of the building. Once inside the stage door, the director, Bill, was waiting for me.
“And where were you?!” he questioned. I stood in the door way for a moment, thinking of an excuse.
“Bill, you’ll NEVER believe what happened to me”, I began, “I was in my apartment, getting ready to come here, when I was suddenly possessed by an evil spirit. Our neighbor had to call an exorcist to banish the ghost. Once that was over, on my way here, my cab passed a burning building, and I had to rescue a little boy and his puppy from the flames. THEN, I had to run back home and change so that my clothes weren’t all covered in ash for rehearsal. I got here as fast as I could, but I guess my traumatizing experience and my heroic act slowed me down.”
He stared at me for a moment, obviously not believing my story (and I don’t see why). Finally, he spoke. “You haven’t had your coffee this morning, have you?” I nodded. He chuckled a little. “There’s some Starbuck’s waiting in your dressing room.” Without another word, I ran off to consume as must caffeine as physically possible.
Once on stage, we rehearsed six songs and ten scenes, took a break, and then ran pretty much the rest of the play. What can I say? It was a slow morning.
♠ ♠ ♠
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