...and I am still trying to decide what to perform. I've come up with an idea I love though, which is to perform 3 vignettes and weave them through the show. The other three performers are doing a solid 15 to 20 minute piece, and while I could do that, I like the idea of doing a 5 minute piece before each of their spots weaving their characters into each of my vignettes. For example, S is doing a powerful monologue about a mobster who is in torment (based on S's real life stuff). He owns a bar near an airport. I could mention the bar in my piece, like:
"I had a long layover so I escaped the airport and went to this club down the street, owned by this old-school mobster looking guy..." After my vignette, Steve would come on and open a larger window into the life of this mobster I just touched upon.
R actually has a Guinea pig in his piece. I could mention seeing a guy with a pet carrier holding a guinea pig, of all things, at the airport. R comes on and opens a window into the life of this man with a guinea pig, etc.
I don't know what A's doing yet, but easy to put her into a scene. What I love about this idea is that it would create a tapestry of stories all intertwined and connected.
We'll see if my peeps go for it!
Here's a vignette I may use:
Narrator: I get up at 3:45 am to catch a flight
from SJC to Montana for business. After
security, I head to the women’s room to put myself together. They’ve added mood
lighting which makes it harder to see. Bleary eyed and squinting into the
mirror, I’m trying to put eyeliner on in a straight line when a woman enters,
and sighs loudly.
She's got this dark mane of windblown hair. She’s staring right at me, .
Narrator: Yeah?
Woman: Too early
Narrator: No kidding
Narrator: She has that ageless beauty Asian
women have. She could be thirty, she could be sixty. She’s wearing a bunch of
layers—scarf, coat, skirt. She’s wearing
coffee colored pantyhose and open toed sandals, a style typically
reserved for elderly women or foreigners.
There’s tons of counter space at SJC
this time of morning. I mean, like 10 sinks with space at either end.
She lines up right next to me, like
two inches away and starts piling her hair atop her head
Woman: Where you going?
Narrator: Seattle. Then on to Montana
Woman: Like me. We travel together
Narrator : Oh, you too? (Take out a mascara wand and stifle a yawn)
Woman: You tired. You sleep on the plane
Narrator: That’s my plan
Narrator: She’s two inches away, and while it’s
invasive, it’s also comforting because how many times have I stood this close
to other women-- my sister, girlfriends or my daughters, put on make-up
laughing, talking or just being together in companionable silence? ( finish up )
Narrator: Well, safe flight!
Woman: (laughs) Safe flight for me mean safe flight for you too!
Narrator: (laughs) True…
Narrator : And I’m back in the glaring lights
and bustle of the airport, timeless like my new friend. It might be now, it
might be fifty years ago. I board a packed plane—big--, 6 seats to each row. I find my assigned seat, close my eyes, open
them again when I hear a stir of activity. It’s her. The same woman, now
impeccably dressed, wedging what she can into the overhead before she finds her
seat in the middle. Right next to me.
Narrator: Well, isn’t this a coincidence
Narrator : There are no coincidences, says my
Native American friend. I know all kinds of people who would read something
into this. I mean, this is Santa Cruz, right? Is there anyone who hasn’t at
least heard of the Celestine Prophesies?
Maybe she’s an angel. Maybe she has a
message for you.
(Note: The following will be edited, but captures what I want
to convey)
Narrator : I am less a believer than a
non-believer in this but I cannot take that leap of unfaith that rules out the
possibility of magic on earth that rules out the possibility of a spiritual
element bustling just under the surface of the real world. And something about
travel, not the arriving, but the actual travel—airplanes, airports makes it
seem more possible somehow. Maybe it’s inhaling the recirculated air saturated with floating particles of hope
and promise that the destination of all of these people holds. Sunset on a
tropical beach, a signed contract after a presentation , lingering kiss of a
long-lost love,.
As coincidences go though, I’m not
entirely thrilled with this one. Because
we’ve connected now, this woman and I. I
feel obligated to be a good companion for the next two hours But I’m tired and
I’ve got 7 hours of travel ahead of me before I have to meet with a group of
hostile nurses.
Narrator : Do you live in Seattle?
Woman: (Nods and puts her finger to her lips)
Shhhh. You tired. You sleep now.
Narrator: The message will have to wait. The
plane taxis forward and I fall asleep to the sound of her chatting with the
woman on her right. About life in Canada where her neighbors worry because
she’s so tiny they can’t see her when the snow rises above five feet. I drift
back in and they’re still chatting. About Vietnam where she has an estate to
settle as the eldest of six siblings
I drift out. Wake up just before we
land. She’s looking at me intently.
Woman: You sleep good, huh. You tired.
Narrator: Yes. Did I snore?
I sometimes do on planes. Awake with
a snort which is such an embarrassing and intimate thing to do among strangers
Woman: No. You worry too much. Don’t worry!
Narrator: I help her reach her bags and that’s it. No message.
Six hours later I arrive at my hotel
early. I look at my bed, at the fluffy white pillows and cool, crisp sheets. I
should review my notes on the training. I should…
Woman’s voice: Shhhhh. You tired. You sleep
now. Don’t worry.
I climb between the sheets fall asleep and dream of a windblown
angel so tiny she almost disappears when the clouds rise up to meet the sun.
