Sooooo, Terry and I got kicked out of my hotel the other day for daring to rehearse on sacred Council Room ground. To de-aggerate my exaggeration: we had been furtively exploring the other floors of my hotel in search of rehearsal space as the weather got colder and parks became less attractive. However, students living here– and Terry isn’t even that– are strictly not allowed on any floors except the student housing floors, the lobby, and the basement which has the gym and laundry room. But the hotel has four levels of conference rooms, full of nice open spaces, and they are almost never used in the evening… We had gotten away with it a couple of times last week, sketchily rehearsing in the hallways down on those floors– most of the staff that wandered through thought we were a hoot, actually, but one guy had told us to get out of there so we had– Anyway, the other day we found a conference room with the door open, and we checked the schedule and it had already been used for the evening, so, furtively checking for cameras all the while, we went in and started rehearsing. After about five minutes the same to-good-at-his-job guy came in and in an annoyed-approching-pissed-off voice told us we were not allowed to be there, and he had already told us that…. So we left fast before he called security and found that Terry was not even allowed to be in the hotel at all (I sneak him in through the service stairs– foolproof!).
Foiled out of our cozy hotel plan, we wandered through the surprisingly warm October night until we found a nice park. We did the first full run-through of the first half of our piece in this possibly private park at night– when the security guard walked towards us I thought he had seen Terry knock me to the ground (he was just doing rounds), and a couple got seriously alarmed when I had my panic attack. Ohhh public theater.
We realized that the first third/half (somewhere in there) of our piece is over 75% silence, and of what speech there is over half of it is recorded. I fall twice– we have been rehearsing on sidewalks; I have all of the nice scrapes–, have a panic attack, and talk to my soup. There is an extremely uncoordinated dance section, and an extremely coordinated subway section. Its “rul wiurd,” we decided; much more stylized than we envisioned. We are both happy with where it is at though, so power ahead!
Im considering just asking the hotel for permission to use those rooms when they are not in use. The worst they can do is say no, right? Shame I probably would not book it though the security guys, though. I’ve made friends with all of them in a carefully orchestrated campaign to get them to know me: everyone has to show their cards when they go into the elevators, and for most people its a habit, but I just don’t get my card out unless they specifically ask for it, and as the weeks have gone by they have less and less. And they all know me as the crazy girl who takes the stairs, and I make a point to chat with them briefly when I have time. Anyway, there has got to be a way of putting all of this ingratiating to good use!
Though tis never easy, we must valiantly plunge ahead, into the rapids, onto the ramparts, under the “keep out” signs, to fulfill those deepest needs and desires that come upon us: to create that most magnificent of art forms, to create theatre. Keep doing.