Scattered Flurries

Alright, well, best to open with the letdown (at least for you, gentle reader): we didn’t perform. Now, if you’d asked me beforehand, I would have said I wanted to perform, and of course, if asked, the others and I would have leapt at the opportunity. That said, I think it worked out for the best. It was nice to spend a couple days as a relative face in the crowd, especially since we retained the Second City card for introduction purposes when needed. (I don’t know if it’s insecure or shallow, but I do like to establish myself as a performer when I’m introducing myself to other performers.) Plus, having done and seen a show or two where the crowd was clearly there to see other people, I don’t think we were missing out on much.

And it left as unencumbered, which was great, because there was oh so much to do!

Day 1:

Fairly shortly after getting back onboard and taking a little shluffie, things kicked off with the Barenaked Ladies sailaway party. It was quite fun. It took place on the pool deck, so it had the feel of (and indeed was) an outdoor concert. Lots of people standing and grooving, and it was amazing to look around and see (and feel) how the crowd on the ship had gone in a day from Cocoon to Logan’s Run!

(Author’s note: I hope that got a giggle, because I struggled with that one. I wanted to say The Bucket List, but thought that might be too dark in its accuracy. It also occurred to me that Children of Men is actually a better counterpoint to Logan’s Run, but the characters were too young to illustrate my point. This writing thing ain’t easy, I tells ya!)

So after that, I dashed down to my room to watch the first half of the Super Bowl, and watched through Uncle Boss’ halftime show. (It’s a long story, but suffice it to say, there’s a slightly alternate universe where my family and I visit with Bruce Springsteen for the occasional holiday.) Having enjoyed that thoroughly, I dashed off to see some rock legends of my own: Sloan!

Now, I’m not saying that Sloan and Bruce Springsteen are entirely equivalent, but in my high school and university years, Sloan was pretty much the band for me, and I believe I own more albums of theirs than of any other band. So, for me, this was big!

And they didn’t disappoint. They were playing to a fairly small crowd for the theatre (they were competing with the Super Bowl, after all), but it was quite rocking. I recorded it all on my Flip, and so as to leave the video unsullied, I remained fairly stationary, so that interfered somewhat with my rocking out, but now I have it. And will have it forever.

I then dashed back to my room to watch the end of the game, continuing my ongoing streak of passing up opportunities to see Great Big Sea for free. (I believe this streak began in 1996, when they were playing a free concert at Concordia’s Frosh Week, and a bunch of us had gone to see the Violent Femmes open for them. And then left, probably to eat poutine and drink. No regrets.) Looked like a pretty exciting Super Bowl! If Sloan isn’t playing at the same time, I’m totally going to watch it next year!

Late night was Boothby Graffoe, a comic songster big in the UK (who met everyone at the Edinburgh Festival). He was funny, but it was hard to follow, as I was sitting with loud Australians and there were ever louder drunks behind us. What I heard I liked.

Then to Crew Bar, to compare notes with everyone else. Everyone was buzzing. There was some discussion of whether to take part in the naked photo, but in the end, everyone demurred. Probably for the best.

Day 2:

A day at sea, so the shows started fairly early. The first thing I saw was Sean Cullen’s “The Sean Schau.” The man puts on a hell of a show, Toronto funny men Pat Thornton and Mark Hickox were featured, and his song “Cacheevo” brought down the house.

Next show for me was Butterfly Boucher out on the pool deck. She was very good, not to mention, ahem, cute. (Have I mentioned that I’ve spent over two months largely with the cast of Cocoon?) Sadly, she got rained out fairly shortly into her set, which was a bummer.

It was also the beginning of a streak of bad weather, made all the more painful because, idiot that I am, having not used my jacket or sweaters the entire time I’ve been here, thought I’d save myself some packing by sending all those particular clothing items home with my parents. The dark side of comic timing, folks.

That evening, I faced for the first time my (or “the”, because it was somewhat universal to our cast and other crew) Sarah McLachlan / BNL dilemma. It basically boiled down to this: these shows were ticketed, so for us to go was somewhat a delicate affair. I mean, the tickets were free and only intended to make sure that everyone onboard got a chance to see that particular doublebill, and as turned out to be the case, if we were willing to take the cheapest of the cheap seats (in terms of quality, that is) or usher, it wasn’t much of a problem. It just took a little doing.

The more personal dilemma I faced was whether to see those mainstage shows, with the big crowds, the big names, and the big cash value, or stick to the smaller rooms with the indie, alt-rock bands that are generally more to my taste (which would also be guilt-free, as there would be no chance of taking a seat from anyone who’d want it more, plus planning-free, which also appealed to the lazy man in me). In the end, I chose the latter option. Rock ‘n roll!

(I heard they were awesome, though, especially Sarah McLachlan. I will over the next few weeks quell my disappointment at not having seen her with some videos Ashley took and the occasional Humane Society ad.)

Another factor in the decision was that The Weakerthans were playing in the Spinnaker Lounge that first night, and I knew that I was going to have to see Ian fairly shortly, and he would cry if I told him I missed it. So I didn’t. And they were introduced by Dave Foley, which was a bonus for me. At any rate, they were very good, and I left wanting more. Like Oliver Twist, if he knew how to rock.

I don’t know why I bothered writing that in what’s going to be a really long post anyway.

I raced off to say The Odds on the pool deck, which was rained out. That sucked. (Don’t worry, it ends well.)

The late night entertainment was Kevin McDonald’s solo show. On a cruise where I was mostly geeking out on music, it was nice to also have some comedy legends to go full-nerd on. It’s generally the curse of the comic that we all want to be rock stars, and while I still believe that to be true (it certainly kicks in for me when I’m watching live music), there are comedy rock stars, and at the top of that list, written in nerd blood, the Kids in the Hall.

The show itself was interesting and unexpected. A lot of funny moments in what ended up being a fairly serious autobiographical show about his career and his relationship with his alcoholic father. But some good funny, and of course a fair bit of Toronto talk, with mention of Second City (we “whoo”ed), Theatresports (I “whoo”ed), Humber College (I contemplated “whoo”ing), the Rivoli (I nodded contemplatively), etc. At the end, as our whole cast was there, we thought it would be a good time to introduce ourselves to Dave Foley, but as the people just ahead of us tried to engage him, he let out an “I really have to go to the bathroom.” That effectively dissuaded us for the night.

In a bit of a stroke of luck, Craig Northey was accompanying Kevin McDonald’s show, and so came out that the Odds were playing at Bar City after the show. Nate and I went down and rocked out with them ‘til the wee hours. As it turned out, Kevin and Dave were rocking out right in front of us, but respectful lads that we are, we didn’t bother them.

Day 3:

This was our Cozumel day. We spent a laid back day at the No Name Bar (the standard crew hangout), but pulled by currents and my pioneering spirit, I went further afield with my snorkeling than I had before. In my travels, I came across some more underwater wreckage (I think this one was a building at one point), and saw a crazy number of fish. It was pretty amazing.

Getting back onto the boat, Chris Murphy of Sloan was standing in front of us in line with his family, but I played it cool. By which I mean said and did nothing but point subtly and whisper to Mike “Sloan!” Though Ashley did say “Ooh, look,” when she realized a few minutes after I had, and I said “I know,” so if he was listening, I suppose he knew I knew. Oh, celebrity encounters!

Our first show of the night was another version of The Sean Schau. As we were waiting, Mike stepped up and introduced us to Kevin and Dave. I mentioned the “Whoo!” for Second City, and that I was the one who “whoo”ed Theatresports. We talked a little about Toronto and life on ships. Unfortunately, our chat was interrupted by the start of the show, but still, it happened! It surely did.

First guest: Chris Murphy. And he and Sean Cullen recreated the David Bowie and Bing Crosby encounter which I hold so dear. I loved it, and in fact, it was extra exciting for me, because in a conversation with the cast over the holidays, I’d cited that as my favorite Christmas song, only to be met by blank stares by half the cast, so there was some vindication there. They carried on to do Bowie and Crosby doing “Under Pressure”, with Sean Cullen as Bing Crosby doing the Freddie Mercury part. Hilarious. Plus topical for us, because Mike and I had spent a few days previous (not constantly) debating whether it was more a Queen song with David Bowie (my position) or a David Bowie song with Queen (his.) (It resolved itself with Mike visiting Wikipedia and conceding that my case had more merit. Victory!)  All-around great.

After that, it was Sloan on the pool deck. I was quite bummed I couldn’t get anyone to go with me, but they were competing with Sarah McLachlan on the mainstage, and it was a tad nippy. Sadly, it wasn’t just among my associates that interest was muted: there were maybe eighty people there. But their loss was my gain. I stood two feet from the stage and enjoyed some good swaying and slapping my legs (my version of dancing).

My personal show highlight: I caught the drumstick flung by Chris (as I will start calling him now)! Well, more accurately, I tried to catch it, it hit me in the chest, and I picked it up off the floor, but still! I spent the rest of the show drumming against my leg (“Look at me, I’m Def Leppard!”), and I got the set list after to complete the collection.

After the show, I went over to Lindsay, a new YC (code name: Lady Bug) and fellow Canuck (Whitby, if memory serves) and we geeked out together. Emboldened by my holding of the drumstick, I figured this would be my best opener to talk to Chris, and Lindsay, who was somewhat worried about going over (there was some confusion as to how present YCs were allowed to be at shows), offered to be my photographer. So we boldly made our way over.

While we were waiting for his throng to clear, we found ourselves chatting with Doug Elliott of The Odds and his wife, Sherry. They in fact approached us, as Lindsay was taking care of their kid. They were lovely and engaging; you’ve got to love Canadian rock!

I introduced myself to Chris, it came up that I was with Second City (alright, I’m sure I worked it in, sue me…), and he asked me if I’d seen him in the Sean Schau, and I fully geeked out on him. (I realize I’m overusing that phrase, but I’m trying to cover a lot of material here, and it seems to fit.) Then we took the picture you see here, which not only do I love as a picture of me with the frontman of one of my favorite bands, but I think it nicely encapsulates the relationship of rock to comedy. And yes, he’s twirling the drumstick which I now own and am going to build a shrine for.

At this point, more fans drifted in wanting their pics, I lingered for a bit, then said “Catch you later,” to which he said “See you, Dan.” That’s right. He retained my name. (It’s most likely gone by now, but still, it made me smile.

So I ran into my room to look at the picture, smiled at it (my eyes are so red!), ran out to see the Odds on the pool deck, and realized I’d locked myself out of my room (first time!) After a very unimpressed security guard let me back in, I grabbed my key card and joined the Odds already in progress. They rock. I’d forgotten how much they rock. I’ll have to make a conscious effort to rediscover them, because they put on a hell of a show.

Then Acid Wish came on. In glam wigs and costumes, they were surely the world’s greatest cover band since Mute Apricot. I don’t think I knew them, but there was something very familiar about them…it was the ODDeSt thing…They rocked out ‘til 2:30 a.m. or so, all classic rock, including a 40-minute encore which was just one song melting into another over and over. Adding a touch of surreal to the occasion was an artificially buxom young lady (I’m thinking a well-preserved 40) who popped out of the hot tub, and was doing sexy dancing for the whole show. I give her points for endurance, and for not stopping even when the songs might have suggested a rest. (I can now say I’ve seen sexy dancing to “Rainbow Connection.” I slept the sleep of the righteous.

Day 4:

This was a sea day, and I took it appropriately easy, doing laundry, a bit of reading, generally decompressing.

The evening began with me bumping into Chris at dinner. He said “Hey, Dan. Chris.” That’s right. He reintroduced himself to me. Like I was a real person, and so was he, and I might have forgotten his name. Wild! And reassuring that I hadn’t been all superfan scary. We chatted like people are wont to do, and then I toddled off to eat.

My first concert of the night was The Weakerthans in the Stardust Theatre. It was a tad disappointing, actually, relative to their Spinnaker show, as they didn’t do too much to fill the space, but not a bad show. And they opened their encore with “One Great City!”, much beloved to the Toronto Hershfields as the “’I Hate Winnipeg’ Song” (sorry, Grandma), so that was pretty fun.

I kept up my streak of passing up Great Big Sea and went to see the Mountain Goats. Quite heady stuff that I think I want to hear more of. I was enjoying it, but I can definitely see it taking multiple listenings to absorb. But while the songs were all really good, the between-songs banter was absolutely incredible! If the whole show had just been him introducing songs and never playing them, I would have been content. An underrated skill, to be sure.

The late night show was Kevin McDonald and Dave Foley. It was inevitably disappointing, given my expectations; I have only my own geekiness to blame. They were doing all archival material, more or less a greatest hits show, and being the fan that I am, I could have stepped in for either of them without missing a beat. And I must admit it was a touch sloppier in terms of props and tech than I would have liked, which was somewhat distracting. And of course, every other time I’d seen them live, it was in front of packed houses who worship them, not eighty-percent-full houses that were mostly casual fans or people just looking for something to do. All those caveats aside, it was still fun, some good laughs in the adlibs and snafus, and always educational to see how the big pros do it.

I got to bed at around 1:30, making it the earliest night for me of the cruise.

Day 5:

Having been denied by inclement weather our trip to Great Stirrup Cay, Norwegian’s own private beach island (and reputed slave graveyard), we spent the day in Key West. Fairly early on, I was faced with the choice of either going to Hemingway House, one of Ernest’s last homes, or Sloppy Joe’s, birthplace of the Sloppy Joe. I stand by my choice, and believe that Papa would have made the same choice in my position. (And by “Papa”, I mean Hemingway, not my father, although now that you mention it…) I of course had the Sloppy Joe, and Mike and Nate both had the same, so it was a bonding thing. And six-toed cats are creepy. So stop judging me already!

After that, we wandered around a bit searching for a key lime pie for Nate (it ended up -being of the on-a-stick variety), then walked up and down Duval St., the main strip. A lot of strip clubs and T-shirt stores, and what I’m pretty sure was a whorehouse. At the very least, I’m thinking a house with all the windows shuttered and a sign out front saying “Adult Entertainment” is of ill-repute. In lieu of a picture of that, here’s the boys and I at the southernmost point of the continental U.S.

Pretty south, eh?

Then it was time to take advantage of an extra day in the States with the traditional phone calls. It was during one of these calls that I had my first Chris Murphy encounter of the day, and yes, I intend to share them all! Alright, this one was just a smile and wave, but still, encounter! It somewhat salvaged the phoning experience for me, because the payphones I was trying then forced me to choose between the one where the receiver cut in and out and the one without a working 3. (I later managed to find a phone in actual working order, but no one was home. Quel dommage!)

With time running out, I dashed off to the Hemingway House, had a quick gander at it and the lighthouse across the street, then back to the boat. Key West, I hardly knew ye.

First concert back on board was The Mountain Goats again. They were good, but I was all sleepy. What I stayed aware of my surroundings for, I liked. Then the girls and I got chatty with Kevin McDonald, which was very nice. He’s swell. And I finally got some pictures with him, which I will treasure. I think this one is my favorite:

Where you see “out of focus,” I see “dreamlike.”

How you like me now, Stinkpot?!?

There was a little time to kill, so we went for a little wander, which led us to meet up with Pat Thornton and Jared Sales at the bar. It’s nice to know that should I ever have to introduce myself to Pat Thornton again, at least I’ll have a clear context to bring up. We wandered some more and caught the Guitar Hero Tournament final. I hate to admit to being blown away by fake musicianship when there were so many actual rock stars around, but the guy who won, playing “Tom Sawyer”, was incredible. And clearly has too much time on his hands.

Then my third Sloan concert. Chris was doing some pre-show banter, and as he walked past me to go to the bathroom, he said “Hey, Dansy, how was my timing?” So flattered was I, I stammered out some approval. The concert itself was of course delightful, Sherry (the Odds wife mentioned earlier) came over to me, and we chatted and danced, and I got to see, for what I believe was the first time, “Underwhelmed” performed live. (Which was funny, because I’d been trying to make Nate feel better all week about The Odds not playing “Heterosexual Man” by saying that I felt his pain because Sloan wouldn’t be playing “Underwhelmed.” Oops!)

And then after the show, I gave Chris a “Great show, Chrispy” (hey, if he can call me “Dansy”…) and reassured him about a joke he’d told that the audience didn’t seem to pick up on but that I liked.

Then another Sean Schau, the personal highlight of which was Luke Doucet and Melissa McClelland singing “Winterlong”, a song I’ve always loved. I left while he was vamping waiting for his last guest to show up (it was very good vamping, but The Odds had started by that point.) I stayed ‘til the bitter end of The Odds / Acid Wish, which was about 4:30. In terms of intangible highlights, I think I will always remember the teenage boy trying to pick up a woman far out of his league (think Avril Lavigne if she was a Barbie doll) with a Bud Light, and then when he was rebuffed, offering it with a disdainful “Here” to the plainer girl next to her.

I had one last chance to get my picture with Dave Foley, but at the last second, he was called away to tend to a drunken musician who clearly needed tending to, and rather than make a pain of myself, I opted to just take a mental picture. Click! (After all, I know I met him!) I said a quick goodbye to new buddy Chris, went to bed, clicked my heels three times and said “There’s no place like the Norwegian Jewel. There’s no place like the Norwegian Jewel.”

And sure enough, when I woke up, I was there. Again.

I think I’m going to print some of those pictures for my wall…

Oy, getting so far behind! Suffice it to say for now that Ships ‘n Dip was awesome, and I’m still recovering. (Not from booze, just from late hours, rocking out, and a quite tender throat.) I will be posting about that in a day or two. I would do it now, but it’s going to be fairly epic, and since there are pictures to post (and possibly even video, if I get really crazy), it’ll have to wait until I hit a port with some good internet.

So for now, let’s get caught up to the start of Ships ‘n Dip, shall we?

As you’ll recall, the ‘rents were on that cruise. For our last day in port, at St. Lucia, we did the Soufriere and Piton Falls excursion. It was a scenic drive, several lovely views of the Piton mountains, and a nice little dip in a hot springs pool. Mind you, the driving time to enjoyment time ratio was pretty stinky (the drive was still scenic on the return, but having seen everything before and making no stops made for much nodding off on the hour-and-a-half it took), but no regrets.

That night, we performed our improv shows, with my parents watching for the first time in years. By my choice, of course: though the policy has softened over the years, I’m still somewhat reticent about having friends and family in my audiences (not counting performing friends, of course). And while the policy still generally holds, it was a pretty good show, and the folks went away happy. As a cast, we’ve mentally accepted but haven’t quite internalized that the crowds we’re going to have will be quieter (read: older and smaller) than we’ve gotten used to. But we’re keeping our swagger, and hey, not that long ‘til Spring Break.

Then a couple of sea days. Some nice conversations with the family, a viewing of Cirque Bijou (the folks were suitably impressed), and a goodbye meal with the cast at Mama’s Italian Kitchen. It was my second time at Mama’s, and I must confess to being a tad disappointed; I am certainly looking forward to a visit to Marcello’s for pizza and Vinnie’s Paninis for a chicken parm sandwich shortly after my return. (Don’t get me wrong, I miss people too…)

Then came the tearful goodbye. Well, they cried. I’m dead inside. Of course, we did it at night, as I wasn’t sure I was going to see them in the morning, but sure enough, they were there at breakfast, so I made them cry twice. I’m good like that.

Then a fairly uneventful day in Miami, though I did bump into Alice on the street and ended up retreating with her to Sedici’s, where Ian and some other cast members of theirs were doing the coffee-and-internet thing. Some nice catching up, and since it turns out we’re in Miami together every two weeks, hopefully there are group activities ahead.

And that brings us to Ships ‘n Dip.

In anticipation of the next post’s audio-visual wizardry, please enjoy some visual confirmation of what I’ve written: (Oh, and I’m just holding my glasses behind my back, lest anyone fear that I’ve lost an arm. I promise if I lose an arm, I will post about it, if only to practice my fancy new typing.)

Enjoy the relative brevity, because the next post…oh man…< ><–>

So that title was supposed to be in reference to the arrival of my folks (which happens later), but it actually works fairly nicely with the first big thing to have happened since last I wrote: the inauguration.

The cast all huddled together in one of the rooms watching CNN, and while there are very few moments that Wolf Blitzer can’t ruin (Yo Yo Ma and Yitzhak Perlman aren’t your backup band, you tool!), it was all very lovely. Mind you, I remain all jaded and cynical about each and every politician, but I get pleasure from the hope of others, and I am genuinely grateful to see a world leader who values rhetoric and the spoken word. I suppose there’s cause for a rant about how sad it is that a politician who’s able and willing to articulate a viewpoint is a rarity, but I’ll let lying dogs sleep. For now.

Other than that, a fairly uneventful five-day, a long walk in Cozumel notwithstanding. I seem to recall being asked at one of our rehearsals what interesting had happened to me that day, and I seem to recall my answer being that my shoelace had gotten caught in a stationary bike. It was true, and it was funny, but still…

I did manage in one of the shows to get everyone on stage but me to corpse, which is always fun. (In fairness, some of it may have been chain reaction, but it started with me.) We were doing “Sing It,” Ashley and I were astronauts (I couldn’t love her because Russians during the Cold War weren’t allowed to feel love), and Mike, who had been our monkey Sputnik II, unzipped his monkey costume to reveal that he was actually a NASA commander sent to spy on us. Upon this reveal, in my best mix of incredulous and hurt, I cried “You threw your feces at me!”

Ta da!

Moving on…

And then with the nine-day, the parents! I met them in Miami, where we were promptly ripped off by a cab driver. (Grrr! Everywhere else, I have my guard up, but I still expect in major American cities for the social contract and the rule of law to be in place. Ah well, live and learn.) After a quick acclimatizing and tour of the ship, my worlds collided over dinner at Tango’s, the onboard Mexican restaurant. As far as I recall, no embarrassing revelations were made by either side, but it’s possible I’ve repressed it.

Inspired by my parent’s arrival, I made my first visit down to the excursion escort signup, and it’s definitely something I’m going to keep doing. It’s pretty incredible. Crew members get to accompany excursions for free, and the expectations for what we have to do are pretty low: keep count of the passengers to make sure no one gets stranded, help people as necessary, fill out some quality-assurance paperwork when you get back…Suffice it to say, pretty great deal, and they seem to like the Second City folk.

Here’s what we’ve done so far:

Samana, Dominican Republic: I accompanied Mother on a walking tour of Samana. This was a mistake on my part. Samana is known for being quite poor and bleak, but I assumed that a walking tour would find the nice parts. I was mistaken. Or possibly misled. If you read the description “La Churcha was built in England where it was unassembled and then reassembled piece by piece in Samana,” would you be expecting sheet metal? Me, not so much. But hey, who are we to hide from the reality of life in Samana?

Tortola, British Virgin Islands: The family went to Virgin Gorda. It was gorgeous. Of course, shortly upon arrival, I made the arguably selfish but fully sanctioned decision to go to another beach through caves that I was the only Hershfield capable of getting through. Of course, most of the day was spent in transit, so no guilt here, sir! The snorkeling was great, with the water very clear and all sorts of great boulders and caves to explore. It was just over far too quickly, so the plan is to go back with the cast, leaving early and coming back late (on time, but late.)

Antigua: We did the Fort James and Beach tour. Fort James is a close relative of Nelson’s Dockyard, and we saw both. Of course, the historical feel is somewhat obscured by a preponderance of gift shops, but still some very nice views to be seen (you can definitely see why famous people dry out there!) Then the beach, which was nice and laid-back.

There were two moments of note at the beach. The first was my mother was reading some health magazine, and she hands it to me and says “Is that a picture of the Jewel?” (our ship) To which I reply, “Well, I can’t tell the ship from the picture, but that’s Jennine standing in front of it, so I’m going to say ‘Yes.’” It is a small world after all!

(Dave, please pass along to Jennine (unless Jennine’s reading this independently, in which case, “Hey there!”) that I’ve actually managed to lose weight onboard, but the method probably isn’t ideal. Basically, it involves spending the year before going living like a gluttonous shut-in, so that even a moderate amount of restraint and exercise causes weight loss. That said, I have gone up a level in my recombinant stationary bike hill program, so while it’s not exactly like I have to check my nutsack on a regular basis to make sure I’m not Lance Armstrong, progress is being made!)

The other moment of note was the polishing off of Rick Mercer Report: The Book. (That’s right, it’s Book Report time again!) A good read, but somewhat defeated the purpose for it I had in mind. I was hoping for laughs (which there were, to be fair), but forgetting how much Canadian politics generally piss me off. All the more when you gather up and compile all the stupidity. In the time Rick Mercer’s show has been on the air, we’ve gone from a Liberal government interested only in power with just a pretense of concern for public welfare to a Conservative government who differs only in that they don’t even bother with the pretense. (Oh, and the NDP piss me off too, lest it seems like they’re being left out. Not that they’re unaccustomed to being left out, mind you…)

Things I miss about Canada: Poutine. Being able to piss and moan about Canadian politics to people who might care. You. (Not necessarily in that order.)

I don’t know what I’m going to read next. It should be The Source, but it’s daunting, both in overall and chapter length. I’ll keep you posted.

Also, I finished the first season of Friday Night Lights. I really loved it. I’m thinking it might be a good series for me to write an hour-long spec for. (My 30 Rock is coming along, thank you for asking.) Mind you, I’ll have to see the next season, as I’m somewhat worried about diminishing returns, but so far, so good.

Barbados: Father and I took in the Turtle and Shipwreck Snorkel Excursion. It was pretty good. It was great snorkeling over the Hawksbill turtles, though it was somewhat irritating being surrounded by other gawkers and more than one jerkass who felt entitled to dive and grab at the turtles, despite specific instructions not to. One was even pulling at the shell. It’s pretty incredible: it’s one thing to not care about ruining the experience for the people you’re with (as it scared the turtles off, after having coaxed them over), it’s one thing not to care about future tours (as endangering the turtles, which are already endangered, could, among other things, lead to the cessation of tours), but what kind of person sees an endangered species and thinks “Hmmm, I wonder what it would be like to hurt it?” It takes all kinds, I suppose. As for the shipwreck, also pretty funky, with fish swimming in and out of it like nobody’s business. Of course, it being a smaller focal point, people were really on top of each other there, but it’s a short distance from The Boatyard, so I’m thinking I might give it another gander when the mob’s not there.

So that’s where we are now. Couple more days with the folks, in which they’ll see me perform improv for the first time in years (I’m warming up to the idea, though I still don’t want to make a habit of it!), and then five days of rubbing elbows with Canadian royalty, knock on wood. The revolution will be photographed.

Ummm, and then I’ll come up with interesting things to do for the month and a half (and beyond?) following.  TTFN!

No, sadly, it’s not innuendo. It’s a Proust reference, which I’m probably getting wrong. (The improviser’s gift and curse: referencing things that we have a cursory knowledge of like we actually know them.) At any rate, it’s my way of saying I know these posts are crazy long, and thank you for indulging me. (The writer’s, or at least my, gift and curse: writing’s fun, editing’s work.)

I’ll start the week that was in Tortola. Usually a jumping-off point for trips to the beach, this time, Megan and I ended up exploring the city together. Which was very nice, because she’s delightful, and also because the way my social patterns have developed, things tend to be solo or in groups, so one-on-one was a pleasant break in the routine. And, as mentioned, delightful.

Which came in handy, because without our delightfulness, it could have been disappointing. It started off with a trip to the botanical garden. We found it really easy, which was a real coup. The botanical garden itself, less of a coup. Or maybe a coup if you were the one being overthrown. I was actually less disappointed than Megan (it had been her idea to go), who has since taken the group’s Frommers guide and put quotes around words like “nice” and “scenic.” There were actually prettier flowers on the walk there, and of the thirty some-odd things to see noted on the Xeroxed map, one of the trees was now a stump. Actually, the Banyan (?) tree was nifty, but not quite enough to justify the trip.

An aside for the family: There was a moment when one of the chickens which run wild in every city we visit passed in front of the tortoise at the botanical gardens, and knowing a certain uncle who would appreciate a picture of such a happening, I took out my camera, only to find out that my batteries were dead. (At least, I’m hoping it’s the batteries! We’ll find out when I replace them!) Disappointed at the missed opportunity, I decided to pay homage by signing the visitors’ book and putting as my comment “The tortoise was so demonstrative!” It wasn’t, really, and I can only hope this esoteric tribute doesn’t result in tortoise soup.

And we’re back. So Megan and I continued to wander Tortola, looking for the Sunny Caribbee Spice Shop. Which we found, and actually without going particularly out of our way. The only thing that made our route funny is that we were plagued by uncertainty the whole time and ended up coming through the back door, only to discover as we were leaving that if we’d come directly from the ship, there were signs every two feet. I will let you discover it for yourself, if you see fit: www.sunnycarribbee.com. Personally, I was intrigued at the Caribbee Hot Sauce (I’m thinking it’s pretty hot) and amused by the fact that their hangover cure and love potion were sold in combination (Hey, sober up and find love already!).

Having accomplished something and nothing, we decided to cap off the day with some afternoon drinking, the height of sophistication. A very nice day.

The next day was Bridgetown, Barbados, and I finally opted to join the crowd for The Boatyard. It’s a crew hangout that had been described to me as “Spring Break”, and being a crusty old man and generally worn out from Tortola the day before, I had up until now taken it more easy. But not this time, darn it! We walked down as a group, which was nice, and gave me a chance to see more of Bridgetown than I previously had, and whet my appetite for future seeings. And a good time was had, though I stayed away from the more decadent events like drinking contests and bar-dancing contests (unless “Footloose” is playing, I tend to prefer my dancing on the floor.) But I did kick around a soccer ball some, throw a football some, and rode some waves with my floating body, so who parties harder than me? (And I drank! I mean, the drink was included in admission, but it got finished…with authority!)

And then St. Lucia, which was fairly uneventful, with me just meandering around. I got caught in the rain in Derek Walcott Square, Derek Walcott being, I believe, a Nobel Prize winner in Literature. I spent much of the time thinking that if I want to win a Nobel Prize in Literature, I really should get moving. But then the clouds went away, and I was content to make witty comments to myself (for instance, as I walked by the KFC (yes, the KFC), I thought “Wow, and I thought a plantation owner was a bad mascot in Canada!”) The highlight of my day was probably the most Caribbean-Canadian conversation in the history of the world, and it went something like this:

Me: (bumping into Caribbean Guy on the street) Sorry.

CG: (offering me what looked to be pistachios) Here, have some.

Me: Oh, no thank you.

CG: They’re fine, see. (opening his mouth so I could see he was eating them.)

Me: Oh, I’m sure they are. I’m just not hungry right now.

CG: They’ll make your dick hard.

Me: I think my dick’s hard enough for right now, but thank you.

CG: (hardy laugh)

Me: (polite chuckle, mini-wave, turning of the corner)

So that was land. At sea, the big event was the White Party (the party where everyone wears white), where I experienced a time warp and found myself dancing in public again. (Okay, it hadn’t been that long, but I think it was the first time the ship had seen a sustained effort on my part.) I was prodded on to the floor by Skinner, beat-box master of the Cat’s Pyjamas and an awesome fella, and while I’m fairly certain the soap which was occasionally spitting onto the floor was at least a little toxic, fun times were had.

And in conclusion, my entertainment reviews. (Yes, I know my book and TV reviews are less interesting than my dating details, but dammit, I’m trying to be Oprah here, not Maury! That said, I am planning a “Who’s my Baby’s Daddy?” post for Sweeps, so stay tuned.) The first season of Gilmore Girls was good, but I don’t know if I’ll go back to it. I do sort of want to see where things go, but the problem with those family and relationship shows is they almost by necessity have to be two steps forward, two steps back, because if anything really ever got resolved, you have nowhere to go. Oh, and I finally (FINALLY!) saw Sling Blade. A good flick, would make a great double bill with The Man Who Wasn’t There. Next up, I think I’ll be giving the first season of Friday Night Lights a go. If nothing else, I’m presuming it’s not girly.

The Crying of Lot 49 was good, though it took more concentration than was ideal for this particular week. It’s the kind of book where you can’t miss a sentence and have to read several of them over to catch their meaning. Think Tom Robbins for smart(er) people. That said, it had a pretty cool symbol at its core, so if there’s anyone out there who’s thinking of getting a pretentious tattoo, I can draw you a picture. (Be the first one on your block to have a pretentious tattoo that isn’t in Japanese!) The plan now is to have some quick fun with the Rick Mercer Report: The Book, and then finally take the plunge into The Source. (Which should somewhat dry up the book reportage, because while I may on occasion give progress updates, damn, that’s a lot of book!)

And lastly in entertainment news, I had completely forgotten that The Daily Show is shown on CNN! Which we get onboard! One less void to fill!

Which segues nicely to a preview for you all: my parents will be joining me onboard for the next nine day cruise! There will be stories, if only about the testing of my newfound eating restraint! (Plus it inspired me to learn about volunteering for excursions, so I’ll be doing that more from now on, so more crazy adventures, knock on wood.)

Shine on, you crazy stars.

Alright, so I should probably wait until there are details or even confirmation, but having established that interesting changes in my emotional state are blogworthy, there was an interesting development last night.

The new cruise director asked us if we wanted to perform with The Barenaked Ladies.

Apparently, and details are foggy and fourth-hand, we’ve been asked if we want to perform with them. Now, that might just mean doing a show (or our regular show) during their cruise, but it also might mean (and this was the cruise director’s impression) doing some kind of “bit” with them or some sort of shared performance. Which, let’s face it, would be kind of awesome.

And, as long as I’ve got one foot in the Candyland of the Mind, I may as well take the leap and add that if we’re on the roster of performers for “Ships ‘n Dip,” might not some sort of performance with Kevin and Dave also be a possibility? (That’s right. In the Candyland of the Mind, I’m on a first-name basis with the Kids in the Hall – and they with me!)

I’ll keep you posted as reality unfolds (stupid reality, would it kill you to stay folded just once?!?), but for now, giddy!

Well, the week that was got off to a bit of an uneven start. Without getting into too many details, suffice it to say that I remain a strong proponent of the “Don’t shit where you eat” rule of dating. Of course, it’s harder to pull off when everyone in your world lives in the same place. (I realize that last sentence loses the metaphor, but I think to keep it, I would have had to say that we all live in the toilet, and given the context, I thought it best to avoid the dark imagery. Apologies to the metaphor. Oh, and as long as I’ve already got the brackets going, let me assure the gossip mills I was the only Second Cityer involved.)

As it turned out, not too big a deal, though I did indulge myself in a quick session of teen-style wallowing, only with more irony, with a soundtrack of Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks and The Decemberists’ Five Songs. It wasn’t until the second time hearing “Oceanside” that I realized the lyrics I was voicing were “Oh, if I could only coax you overboard…”, which, while normally beautifully poetic, becomes wickedly funny in the context of girl problems on a cruise ship. Having laughed at myself, I was back on the Road to Wellness, with fond memories of and anticipation for all the detours and roadside attractions on the way. (Satisfied, metaphor gods?)

In terms of cast of characters, there were cameos, some new additions, and a couple of exits. Mike had some guests, two fellas by the names of Danny and Sly. They were a lot of fun, charming fellows both, and they will be missed. For those potentially interested in visiting, Danny proved to us that those seasickness bracelets only have limited success in preventing seasickness (though who knows what would have come out of him without them), but are useful for pretending to be Spiderman. And for those interested in modern history and politics, Sly is going to be at Obama’s inauguration, so if you’re reading this, the most degrees of separation you are from that event is two. Pretty nifty, no?

Joining the entertainers onboard, we now have the Cat’s Pyjamas, a capella group extraordinaire. Very nice guys, but mostly I’m excited because I think I’m finally going to get the basketball game I’ve been hankering for. Man, am I going to get my ass kicked!

And in terms of goodbyes, we lost cruise director Rich to vacation this week. We gave him the royal sendoff, inviting him to play Hero Freeze with us in our last show. A pretty unsatisfying show for me all in all (the crowd too drunk and too dirty for my tastes – yes, I’m old), but everyone left happy, including Rich. Haven’t met the new cruise director yet, and don’t know if anything will change for us, but if it does, I’ll let you know.

Alright, on to funny interactions. We’ll open with a faux pas. So there’s a party, and one of the guests, a flamboyant young man in a pink vest, has been hitting on the male dancers all night. Later on, as I’m talking to his sister, I notice that he’s got Ashley cornered. Thinking of the irrepressible Pearce Visser, I ask her “Hey, does your brother get straighter when he drinks?” To which she replies “My brother’s straight.” Now, clearly she’s wrong, in denial, or in possession of an excellent deadpan, but either way, I backpedaled like a triathlete near the end of Superman. Awkward!

There was also an encounter with a passenger with great comedic timing, who deserves to be immortalized here. So I get onto an elevator, and this man’s wife was futzing with his hair, as he protested “It looked better before.” He then turns to me, and with perfect timing, says “Don’t you hate it when a woman messes with your…never mind.” Luckily, I was going to 13, and the only button pushed when I entered was 12, and the timing worked out so that just as he said that, the doors opened on 12, and I was able to deliver a perfectly calm “Get out.” Laughs all around, my one regret being that I was unable to tell him that he was awesome.

Wow, this post is long! But damn it, I’ve been keeping you up-to-date on my readings and watchings so far, and I’m not going to stop now. In terms of watching, I finally made a trip to Jewelbusters (the onboard DVD collection) and snagged the first season of Gilmore Girls. Yes, I’d be judging me too. But I was also scared of the girliness of Buffy and Veronica Mars, and was proven wrong there too. So far, Gilmore Girls isn’t quite at that level of superbness, but it’s definitely watchable. Seven seasons watchable? I’ll keep you posted.

In terms of reading, I finished The Man Who Mistook His Wife for A Hat. Interesting cases, but the writing was too academic for my tastes, i.e. it made me feel stupid. (Yes, yes, “there’s a difference between ignorance and stupidity.”) But hey, at least now I know (vaguely) what “proprioceptive” means. Though I’ll probably forget…it’s not like I’ve got hypermnesis! Then I spent a day reading Tom Stoppard’s The Invention of Love, which was good, but certainly no cure for feeling stupid. Next up, Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49. (That’s right. Pynchon. I’m going to have to read Twilight after this just to keep my brain cells from revolting!)

Also, a sad note in terms of my reading. I saw that Ron Asheton, guitarist for The Stooges, died just the other day, at age 60. He was one of my favorite “characters” in Please Kill Me, and I remember thinking as I was reading that I was glad he was one of the ones who survived. Gather ye rosebuds while you may, folks.

Which reminds me of a lovely moment I had at the internet café, as I was uploading those pictures. So I’m chatting with a friend from high school, a friend from Vancouver, and a friend from my return to Toronto, and visiting the wedding announcement site of a friend from McGill, and it dawned on me that every chapter from my adult life was represented. And while I’d never claim that life has all been puppies and whipped cream, it made me appreciate how lucky I’ve been to know the people I’ve known in my life. And if you’re reading this, chances are you’re one of them. Thanks for existing.

Of course, most of you probably stopped reading paragraphs ago. “Oooh, sorry, we have to shovel our walkways…” Fine, go look at the pictures again, they’re worth a thousand words anyway.

Bastards.

As promised, here’s a smattering of pictures that the great Joe Yannetty took around Christmas.  Plus my favorite picture of the cast, where we played/invented Toast Your Vacation; someday, it will be the equivalent of His Master’s Voice, I tells ya!

Enjoy!

Alright, the title’s an overstatement (I was just feeling literary), but I’m back to the small room again. Not so bad, really, but I do quite miss the window. Waking up in darkness stinks. And I’m not playing my guitar as often, because I don’t want to subject another human being to that. But still, wearing shorts, so who’s complaining?

So since I’ve written last, holidays a-plenty! Christmas was pretty fun. The JARs threw a hall party, theme rooms and all. Good times were had, vodka was drank out of a peppermint cup, pictures were taken, I intervened to break up a fight that probably wasn’t going to happen anyway, and I slept the sleep of the righteous.

Boxing Day was spent in Miami, where they of course don’t call it Boxing Day, but still acknowledge its religious significance by having sales. I bought myself a basketball (they have some on board, but it was worth it for the quality upgrade), a printer (to inspire additional feelings of guilt to keep me writing, but of course, it was only after I was onboard that I realized I needed to buy a USB cable separately, so as of now, it’s only taking up space), and a mesh hamper (far and away my best return on money spent.) And it’s my understanding that due to his own splurge, I’ll be getting a hand-me-down TV from my brother (I prefer to think of them as hand-me-sidewayses), so all in all, a big shopping day for me.

Also that day, we got our first guest as a group. Caroline (apologies if it’s Carolyn), a friend of Ashley’s, joined us, which has been lovely. A breath of fresh air, she is, and she’s married to someone I went to high school with. Someone I barely remember, mind you, and he probably has all but forgotten my existence (apparently, before she came, she showed him a list of the cast, and my name was “familiar”, but he didn’t have the context, so maybe I’m worth a nod of recognition when she gets back), but it’s nice to be able to talk Toronto as well. (There’s also a hypnotist on board for this cruise from Toronto, and the four of us talked a little T-dot.)

On the 28^th, the JARs hosted a party for the entire crew, and some passenger treated us all to free drinks, which was nice. They performed a number from Chicago. I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s the one where a bunch of women recount the circumstances of the murders they committed. Long story short, big dance number in sexy lingerie. Suffice it to say, I think the crew is going to be pretty disappointed in our crew show!

I had to make my first set list for our improv shows. I threw a fair bit of new stuff at them, but everybody stepped up, and the shows worked out quite well. (Schwarzenegger killed!) After the show, I had some girl come up to me and say that I looked exactly like Napoleon Dynamite. Using my friendliest incredulous tone, I pointed out that that wasn’t exactly a compliment. She countered “No, it’s okay, I loved Napoleon Dynamite.” I thought “I loved Forrest Gump. Would you take it as a compliment if I said you reminded me of him?” I said “Thank you?”

Around this time, I finished The Great Gatsby. Short but sweet, a classic for a reason. Going through my books, I was torn between two books that had potential to be uplifting but also the potential to be horribly depressing: The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks, and Kasztner’s Train, by Anna Porter. In the end, I chose the former. I think my time with Mr. Kasztner will be best spent in a private room. I think I’ll be able to handle reading it, but I probably won’t want to talk about it much. So far, so good, but Dr. Sacks doesn’t shy away from the big, big words, so it definitely takes some concentration.

As for New Year’s, fairly anticlimactic, but I always feel that way about them. Highlights include someone asking me if my Humphrey Bogart tie was Barack Obama (what is this world coming to?!?), hugs and kisses (awwww!), and turning the first page on my X-ed out calendar. December, we hardly knew ye!

Happy 2009, everyone!

We spent the day in Cozumel, Mexico. It’s lovely. This particular day started with Megan, Ashley and I doing a little exploring, while the other boys of the cast went directly to the beach/bar.

We ventured slightly off the beaten track, the highlight of which was a walk through the local cemetery. I was a little hesitant (respect, not fear), but it’s fascinating to see how different cultures treat their dead, and given our itinerary, it was nice to see something not designed for tourists. I don’t know if this is true of all Mexican cemeteries, but it was amazingly vibrant, lots of mausoleums in bright pastels. Of course, there were also a fair number of handmade crosses written on with marker. Not to be morose or maudlin, hopefully to be slightly poetical, there was something kind of comforting about the mausoleums and the idea that the families were together. Not that I particularly believe in an afterlife, but hey, it’s the holidays.

Moving from the sacred to the profane, towards the end of our walk, we stumbled upon a girl who looked to be about five discovering self-gratification on the sidewalk. Normally, the kind of bizarre moment I wouldn’t choose to share, but the funniness of Ashley and I trying to continue our conversation after that makes it a memory worth preserving. As we pressed on, Ashley would look back every thirty seconds or so (I, out of a combination of propriety and decency, did not), I would ask “Still going?”, she’d say “Yep,” and we’d pick up where we left off. For the record, she was still discovering when we got out of eyeshot.

Then we were at the No Name Bar, which is a bar/beach that is a popular hangout for crews from all the ships in port (it also has the wireless, which I didn’t use, but that’s a big draw.) Alan, one of our JARs (i.e. dancers), came over and said I was stealing his look by wearing a bandana, I countered that I was at the bar first and had also been wearing bandanas for years, and we quickly through down in an impromptu Bandana-Off, which is basically an in-your-face dance contest. It was interrupted by a waitress coming to take our orders, so it never properly got resolved, but I’m fairly certain I was winning. At any rate, we both kept our bandanas on, and all was well.

I took advantage of the beach time to polish off the last few pages of Please Kill Me. As predicted, somewhat of a deterioration into a series of one drug death after another, and it would have helped to have known more of the players going in, but still, an interesting read. Up next, going classic with The Great Gatsby!

Besides that, there was some more great snorkeling. There’s some sort of wreck sunk right off their pier, and there were all kinds of great big fish swimming in and out of it. Nature!

And though I don’t have them yet, Joe (the ship’s comic) and Luke (one of our techs) were shutterbugging like no one’s business, so hopefully, I will be able to track down some fun pictures of our fun day at the beach. (There were of course other incidents worth telling, but I’ll wait for the pictures to tell those stories.) Of course, this not being the real world, most won’t be posted online, but with my datakey, I should be able to store the best of them, and then someday, COLLAGE! Well, probably not, but still, I’ll have them.

Christmas Eve proper was spent with the cast at Le Bistro, the onboard French restaurant. The food was good (mussels and scallops and escargot to open, duck for the main course, and crepes suzette for desert), as was the company, though we were all clearly worn out from the day. Then we all made the briefest of cameos at the White Party (it’s a party where everyone wears white, get it?), and retired.

And that was my bizarre Christmas Eve. We’ve got improv shows scheduled for tonight (no Sandy Koufaxes here!), and then Boxing Day mayhem in Miami.

God bless us, everyone.

So I was googling myself the other day…(I admit I do this more than I should, but this time, I had a reason! I wanted to see if this blog would show up; alas, it does, so you’ll be getting a slightly more politic version of my life, but it’s not that different, really.) Among the things I stumbled upon was this review of Brave New Play Rites, with a specific mention of my play, Courting. For those who might be interested:

University of Toronto Quarterly, Volume 77, Number 1, Winter 2008

Letters in Canada 2006: Drama, by Nancy Copeland

Pg. 94

The second anthology, Brave New Play Rites, edited by Bryan Wade,

collects twenty-five short plays to celebrate the twenty-year history of

the annual festival of work written by students of UBC’s Creative

Writing Program. The selected playwrights range from novices to

authors who have gone on to establish themselves as writers, among

them Aaron Bushkowsky, Kevin Chong, and Corrina Hodgson.

The anthology not only samples the history of the festival, it is a

compendium of experiments with the twenty-minute play. The monologues,

of which there are four, are predictably the most successful:

a great deal can be revealed about a character within this format.

However, writing effective multi-character comedies and dramas

within the constraints of the form is more challenging: the situations

can seem contrived and the plotting forced, and as Wade notes in his

introduction, drama is ‘more problematic’ than comedy within ‘a twenty

minute timeframe.’ Yet two plays set in restaurants show the potential for

both comedy and drama within this format. Dan Hershfield’s Courting

(2004) amusingly conflates dating and legal proceedings as a pair of

waiters and a chef take on the roles of lawyers and judge to adjudicate

the relationship between a couple on a dinner date. In Tim Kennaley’s

Reunion (2002), on the other hand, a disturbing sense of uncertainty

and menace develops as an apparent stranger is gradually coerced

into accepting the identity foisted upon him by two friends. Again it

is predictable that plays like these, which are unified in time as well

as place, are more likely to succeed, but Hodgson’s Recess (2002),

which shows the relationships that develop among three troubled

students at a private girls’ school in twelve brief, economical scenes

set over the course of the academic year, demonstrates how rich the form

can be in the hands of a skilful playwright.

Alas, I think the best sentence for publicity purposes isn’t in readily quotable form, but still, always nice to be singled out from an anthology.

Also, a production coming up in Sudbury, at Playfest, running January 22nd to 25th. Go for the big nickel, stay for Courting!

Hopefully, I’ll write something else that’s good at some point, because as of now, in terms of accomplishments, Courting is kicking the crap out of everything else I’ve written. (They teach it in colleges, they do!) That said, I’m pretty proud of it, so Godspeed, little play!

Thanks for indulging my pride, everyone!