Someday In Summer

Go out on a Friday night after an 8 hour shift slinging coffees for upper west siders who can afford those ten dollars worth of eight ounces of milk and when you emerge above ground again in a new borough, don’t forget to appreciate the hordes of eager early summer people catching a glimpse of this weekend’s free film in the park ~ pride edition ~ before you scream your friend’s name, popping up like a meerkat over the heads of movie goers and stumbling in the dark towards you. “Let’s go”. And so you find the bar with no neon over its desolate appearance, until that is, you dive through the backroom bathrooms and through a door where suddenly a stage is just barely keeping a crowd of people at bay. There’s one spot open at the cash only bar you spot just before excitement catches your throat staring at the celebrity you came to see, the celebrity staring right at you, the celebrity shaking your hand, and asking your name, and you’re both more embarrassed and more elated than you’ve ever been because your brash friend decided to drag his elbow over to yours and make the introduction. You wish you could do it all over again and be a little less tongue-tied but nevertheless you met him, and now he’s getting up on stage and snapping your heart strings and you realize its not lust, its envy. And its not the celebrity glow it’s the call to perform pulling you up there beside him, but reality has your feet glued to the floor and for the millionth time in your collection of years, you wish “someday”.

In early June I had my first show with comedy sketch team SponsoredBy at the Players Theater, a venue tucked neatly into the west village like another book in a vast library. As I set up my props backstage I shamelessly took a beat to touch the walls that’ve seen countless actors set up and tare down. Having seen my fair share of shows there as well, it was no small thing to me that it was my turn. Because whether its The Players Theater second floor black box, or the Comedy Cellar one book-spine down the street, not everyone makes it to New York. Not everyone can show up alone and start conversations with strangers, or write and let those strangers critique. If you’re writing and sharing on these stages, make sure to smile for the long legacy your art has become a part of. That night was a little piece of my “someday” coming to meet me halfway. (And sure I’m being dramatic, but languid summer sunsets will do that to you.) All I’m saying is, Thank You.