Is there a God? No one can prove it, but the experience I’m about to describe suggests that there might be, and that He/She likes me.
I always enjoy teaching in Las Vegas because the students are of a different stripe. I call them “glitzy carnies” with no disrespect intended – on the contrary, I think they’re uniquely cool. The showbiz they’re in is a certain world of its own, and this is reflected in their humor and approach to performing. Each is what some would call “a piece of work.”
On this last day of class we all were eager for the culminating performance of our week-long musical improv intensive. The actors were keen to show off their achievements off for friends and family; I was proud of their skill. Our final rehearsal of the show concluded 3 hours before curtain time. As we went our ways, the house and lobby were being readied and would, incidentally, have to be struck in a hurry after the show. Another event was booked to rush in right on our heels, that same night.
This was my 3rd intensive in Las Vegas, and I knew it would be tiring. Teaching all day requires much energy, and I cannot resist the nightlife, so it’s up late and tipsy that I am, over and over. And then back to the studio the next day and the next and the next…as a general fatigue sets in and intensifies.
Okay - when we broke 3 hours prior to our performance I was really dragging, and a nap seemed feasible – I arranged a wake-up call that would give me 90 minutes to get up, get dressed and be at the theatre at half-hour. If that wake-up call came, I don’t remember it. I may well have picked up the phone and replaced it, and gone back to sleep.
Here’s what transpired: Despite my “Do Not Disturb” sign, a hotel maid mistakenly unlocked my door, opened it, came in and made some sort of startled sound upon seeing me, and I woke…AT 15 MINUTES TIL SHOWTIME. In one crazed moment, I saw her, saw the clock and began to move like a sped-up film, pulling on clothes, getting out the door and down the hall and into the elevator and down to the casino floor, and then I couldn’t remember where my car was parked. In this blind panic I managed to find an exit to outdoors and be lucky enough to leap directly into a cab.
I made it to the theatre a minute or 2 before curtain, which of course we held for a bit. The place was packed, everyone was happy and not at all concerned that I had just appeared.
But what if I hadn’t been there then, nor 10 minutes later, nor 15? When would someone have finally tried to contact me or maybe have to come rapping on my door? In any possible case it would have been too late for our show to happen at all, on the room’s tight schedule. Yes, the gala climax of our whole week’s sweat might have crashed and burned. It almost did. It SHOULD have, except for a miracle.
When will a maid in a hotel ever again bypass a ”Do Not Disturb” sign to save my day? I’m thinking, never. While I’m usually on time for everything, this scare in Vegas proved that I’m capable of blowing it completely. Moral: When a lot of people are depending on you, please don’t take chances on punctuality.
Related posts:
