Boston Vs. Omaha
Here's a little note I was sending around last year, after taking two back-to-back trips to promote Fin and Euba. I thought it would be fun reading:
I’m back from Boston where I was invited to the Boston Internationial Film Festival. Fin and Euba did not win an award. (not that I’m aware of). I do not consider it a waste of time, but it was pretty close.
In Omaha, where I attended the Great Plains Theatre Conference, you get a plane ticket for $220 bucks, your rent a car for $30 and you are told to watch out for tornadoes and twisters. In Boston, you get a plane ticket for $80 bucks, you rent a car for $100 and you drive on roads that look like they were paved by tornadoes and twisters. In Omaha, there is nothing to do, and your ‘Neverlost’ GPS has alzheimers.
In Boston, there is too much to do, and your ‘Neverlost…i.e. ALWAYS lost’ GPS has split-personality schizophrenia, bi-polar, dyslexia. Thomas Cefaly quote directed to the Neverlost device on day 3: “here’s some advice neverlost. Go kill yourself!’ In Omaha, your conference is overkill, with every detail burnished in gold and Edward Albee wandering the halls munching on cafeteria cookies.
In Boston, your 'gala' takes place in an upscale bar and awards are given out on whatever floor you are not on, by people who don't even know you are there.
In Omaha, you are picked up by a shuttle and taken to a 'limited-service' Best Western, booked in a room on the 3rd floor where the ice machine is broken, making the entire floor a choking 95 degrees, only 2 degrees cooler than the temp. outside, with a sensible roommate who loves to shop and get back to the hotel early for a good night's sleep before shopping for Brighton the next day at an upscale suburban mall. In Boston, you wait an hour for a rental car, are pee'd on by the rental agent, spend an hour fighting with the schizophrenic GPS getting to 'overbooked' Best Western (in fact, all of Boston is always overbooked) and sent to the gorgeous Royal Sonesta rent-free for the evening, overlooking the Charles River and Cambridge, with Chenille blankets and pillows only to pack up at 12 noon because they are ALSO overbooked and drive back to the original hotel and check in, bumping some other poor bastard off of the overbooked list for later that night, on a floor also with a broken ice machine, rooming with Thomas, addicted to in-room Nintendo, mom, who is researching her novel and old friend Carolyn Messina, i.e. force of nature, with no sleep, rehearsing Fin and Euba til 3am parked next to Betsy Johnson and Prada in a schizophrenic rental car off of Newbury Street, Boston's answer to Rodeo Drive.
...annnddd that about sums it up.
I’m back from Boston where I was invited to the Boston Internationial Film Festival. Fin and Euba did not win an award. (not that I’m aware of). I do not consider it a waste of time, but it was pretty close.
In Omaha, where I attended the Great Plains Theatre Conference, you get a plane ticket for $220 bucks, your rent a car for $30 and you are told to watch out for tornadoes and twisters. In Boston, you get a plane ticket for $80 bucks, you rent a car for $100 and you drive on roads that look like they were paved by tornadoes and twisters. In Omaha, there is nothing to do, and your ‘Neverlost’ GPS has alzheimers.
In Boston, there is too much to do, and your ‘Neverlost…i.e. ALWAYS lost’ GPS has split-personality schizophrenia, bi-polar, dyslexia. Thomas Cefaly quote directed to the Neverlost device on day 3: “here’s some advice neverlost. Go kill yourself!’ In Omaha, your conference is overkill, with every detail burnished in gold and Edward Albee wandering the halls munching on cafeteria cookies.
In Boston, your 'gala' takes place in an upscale bar and awards are given out on whatever floor you are not on, by people who don't even know you are there.
In Omaha, you are picked up by a shuttle and taken to a 'limited-service' Best Western, booked in a room on the 3rd floor where the ice machine is broken, making the entire floor a choking 95 degrees, only 2 degrees cooler than the temp. outside, with a sensible roommate who loves to shop and get back to the hotel early for a good night's sleep before shopping for Brighton the next day at an upscale suburban mall. In Boston, you wait an hour for a rental car, are pee'd on by the rental agent, spend an hour fighting with the schizophrenic GPS getting to 'overbooked' Best Western (in fact, all of Boston is always overbooked) and sent to the gorgeous Royal Sonesta rent-free for the evening, overlooking the Charles River and Cambridge, with Chenille blankets and pillows only to pack up at 12 noon because they are ALSO overbooked and drive back to the original hotel and check in, bumping some other poor bastard off of the overbooked list for later that night, on a floor also with a broken ice machine, rooming with Thomas, addicted to in-room Nintendo, mom, who is researching her novel and old friend Carolyn Messina, i.e. force of nature, with no sleep, rehearsing Fin and Euba til 3am parked next to Betsy Johnson and Prada in a schizophrenic rental car off of Newbury Street, Boston's answer to Rodeo Drive.
...annnddd that about sums it up.
posted by Audrey at
9:34 AM
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