2003-05-19 - 9:04 p.m.
Beers and tears
It’s been a crazy couple of days. I don’t think I’ve had such a roller coaster in a long time. The last six days have been wonderful, joyful, and fun… but also exhausting. And bittersweet.
I had to say goodbye.
I got to Florida on Tuesday. St. Pete, to be exact. I was there to supervise (babysit, really) a Japanese production team that had come to shoot some footage for a “Making of” TV special. But I was also there to give notice, see everyone, say goodbye and have some fun before I left the company. I did all of these things.
The Japanese production team was cool, but exhausting. I didn’t have to actually do much, but they were tiring. I went over the schedule with these people thousands of times, but they still insisted on “reminding” me about things. Plus, I always had to be “on”, which bugs me. It would have been easier if we’d all spoken the same language, but whatever. It was still fun.
The third night I was there, the rest of my division in the company was having a dinner in Sarasota, where they were having meetings. I decided to go, and I had a great time. I squatted in an empty bed at the Ritz. Heh. But I also spoke to the head of HR (he was at dinner), and I officially gave my notice. After I’d spoken to him, I started to spread the news.
That was where it got tough. The people at that dinner make up my favorite group in the company—our show staff. I hate my job. I hate sitting at that fucking desk and doing nothing, and I hate feeling unappreciated. But I always felt like I could visit a show or go to meetings and these people would appreciate me. They like me. They respect me. Hell, they love me, and telling them that I was leaving turned out to be much, much harder than I expected. The general reaction was one of shock, then disbelief, then congratulations on grad school, then sadness. When I told the talent director, the look on her face broke my heart. They all made the point that they’re happy for me, but they will miss the hell out of me. This is about 30, 40 people, maybe? That felt so wonderful, but still so awful. I felt, a bit, like I was letting them all down, even though they insisted that I wasn’t.
We went out drinking after dinner. I tried to hook up with one of the company managers. Nothing doing. He hugged me, he HELD MY HAND, but then he told me he had a girlfriend. Sure, I was disappointed, but what can you do? Then he surprised me. He hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, smiled and said, “I’m really glad you came.” Wow.
The next couple of days went as usual. Work, work, work. I went out for a drink with some folks, which was great. The funny thing about this particular trip is that it was the first time I’d spent time with the performers themselves. I actually got to chill with them and the crew, and they’re a great group.
Saturday was a big day. I was at the arena all day, then I decided to go to Sarasota again for the closing night party of meetings. Squatted at the Ritz again. BUT. That party? So much fun, and so awful for me.
The fun stuff: food was good. Drinks were good. I chilled with my peeps again. Then, the fortune teller.
THE FORTUNE TELLER. Oy vey. He was there last year, too. This 65-year-old dude with funky hair and a scraggly beard and a Merlin cape. He reads hands or some shit. Last year he told me I was stubborn and creative, blah blah blah. This year? OH SHIT. He told me I was creative and intelligent, blah, blah, blah, but THEN. Then he said, “Hmm. You like to be told what to do. You like to be given direction.” Yeah, sometimes I do, I thought. Then he said, “I don’t know how to say this gently, so I’m just going to say it.” Dude, what? Am I gonna die soon? He said, “You like it rough.”
HEEE!!!!!!
Doubly funny, of course, because the hot new stage manager was standing right there.
Then he told me that I don’t like to be told what to do anywhere but the bedroom. I went around telling EVERYONE about that—I was drunk, after all. But the odd part? It’s true. Remember this, boys.
Anyway. So… I took some pictures. I hung out with my guys. We all went back to the hotel bar and drank some more, and I hugged lots of lots of people. I cried a bit, too. But everyone was amazing to me. I can’t express how much these people mean to me, which is something I didn’t realize until this trip. They accepted me from the start, but now they also consider me a friend. I have a place to stay almost anywhere in the world because of these people. They respect me. They think I’m amazing. They love talking to me. These people are all intelligent, creative, decent people, and I have loved being their kid-sister figure, their sounding board and their friend.
I’m going to cry now.
I cried on Sunday. I saw my last show. I sat out most of it, but then I realized that I didn’t want to miss it, so I went back. And I cried. I hugged people goodbye, and I cried. That was it, for some of them. I got some great squeezes.
Then I went out on a boat. Heh. One of the performers has a boat in Tampa, so six of us went out there. What a way to end a career, out on the water with beer, junk food and good people. A storm started just as we were getting back, and it POURED, but we made it back to St. Pete in time for some DRINKIN’.
I got tipsy. Not drunk, mind you, but tipsy. I decided to stay out until I saw the last crew guys, including the same manager from the night before. I bought them drinks. I kibitzed. Then, at 2 am, it was time to say goodbye.
I made all the rounds and hugged everyone I could. I got business cards and promises to email. Tears, too. One of the last was the manager. He held me really tight, then he told me not to cry. It’s not sad, he said. Think of the good times, he said. You’ll see us again, he said. You’re going on to great things. I nodded and hugged him again. Then I hugged some more people, and they walked back towards their hotel.
After I hugged the last of the performers, the manager called my name. I looked up at him, and he gave me a wave. “Take care of yourself,” he said. I just looked at him. I think I said, “You too,” and I nodded. But I will always remember how he said goodbye, then he lingered to say it again.
So I’m crying again. This is a weird entry to write, because I have soooo many memories of this weekend but I didn’t want to write an 8000-page diatribe about it. I had a great time. The weather was beautiful, even though I didn’t get outside much. I went boating! And I got to see everyone, which meant a lot to me. And I know I’m going on to great things, and the show will come through Syracuse so I’ll see it, but it’s still tough.
It all ended on an up note, though. I was at the airport today, waiting for a friend of mine to meet me for lunch. Right before she showed up, I turned and saw one of the performance directors. He waved at me. I ran up to him, gave him a hug and a kiss. He was the first performance director I ever met in person, and probably the first member of a show staff who I considered to be my friend. And he’s the last I saw. Fitting, in a way.
And even though I didn’t hook up, I did get a lot of hugs by some nice, strong, masculine arms. Mmmm…. Hee.
