Thursday, November 12, 2015
The Big Time
Did you know that the Daley Center holds a weekly lunchtime concert series, at which you can thrill to the sounds of a terrible children's choir or a Serbian poetry reading whilst eating a stale egg salad sandwich and fighting off sexual advances from security personnel? I did, but never once did I dream that I would become a part of it, as I walked past it week after week on my way to buy six pounds of nachos or be harassed by sales associates at Old Navy. Today, however, the dream I never had came true, as my amateur lawyer's theatrical troupe did a promotional performance in that groundbreaking creative space that can only be described as the southwest corner of the lobby.
Everything went pretty well, although we did have to compete with the sound of plastic security trays being slammed into one another and the conveyor belt. They even put up a little tent to serve as our dressing room, although they did not provide a bowl of M&Ms with all the red ones removed as I had specifically requested in my rider. I reprised my role as Edward Snowden singing "Blurred Lines," in what was definitely, totally a reflection of how relevant and topical he (and Robin Thicke) have stayed, and not in any way because we were desperate for numbers that were pretty easy to call back to memory. (Like other PTSD-inducing events, it remains pretty fresh.)
What's next for me? Orchestra Hall? By which I mean a hall outside the orchestra, not the actual Orchestra Hall -- I'm really more of a lobby specialist.
Did you know that the Daley Center holds a weekly lunchtime concert series, at which you can thrill to the sounds of a terrible children's choir or a Serbian poetry reading whilst eating a stale egg salad sandwich and fighting off sexual advances from security personnel? I did, but never once did I dream that I would become a part of it, as I walked past it week after week on my way to buy six pounds of nachos or be harassed by sales associates at Old Navy. Today, however, the dream I never had came true, as my amateur lawyer's theatrical troupe did a promotional performance in that groundbreaking creative space that can only be described as the southwest corner of the lobby.
Everything went pretty well, although we did have to compete with the sound of plastic security trays being slammed into one another and the conveyor belt. They even put up a little tent to serve as our dressing room, although they did not provide a bowl of M&Ms with all the red ones removed as I had specifically requested in my rider. I reprised my role as Edward Snowden singing "Blurred Lines," in what was definitely, totally a reflection of how relevant and topical he (and Robin Thicke) have stayed, and not in any way because we were desperate for numbers that were pretty easy to call back to memory. (Like other PTSD-inducing events, it remains pretty fresh.)
What's next for me? Orchestra Hall? By which I mean a hall outside the orchestra, not the actual Orchestra Hall -- I'm really more of a lobby specialist.
