The first leg of the "cross-country-with-a-trailer-full-of-baggage" tour has been Vintage Theatre in Denver.
A quaint 68-seat theatre space snuggled into a lovely avenue of shady trees and red brick buildings that house new favorites like The Vine Street Pub and Saint Mark's Coffee House*, Vintage has been a good spot for this intimate show.
*(I reccomend the white, mocha iced coffee from Saint Mark's for pre-show amping and Vine Street does a mean pint and gives great patio for post-show unwinding. Not to mention, they make the best BLT with avacado...like ever)
The show has been relatively well-received here. But, everything is relative, isn't it? Considering Denver can have up to 50 productions running at one time, I've heard 18 people in the audience on a Friday night is...like...stellar.
While basking in the confines of "relative success", meaning we (the crew) allow ourselves an extra can of cat food for dinner, I sometimes sigh, put down the can opener, gaze into the empty can and remember the good ol' days...
The days when I could say the show (a cathartic memoir) was cheaper than therapy.
Oh yeah. That was before I started to self-produce.
Sometimes, I feel a little pang. And. No. It's not stomach cramps from Kiblets.
But more for the mountains from whence I came (Breckenridge, Colorado).
The ice covered land where all entertainment was well-attended entertainment.
Granted, in the land of ice and snow, you are competing with the elements themselves. A matinee? On a powder day? Well, you'd better be performing a naked trapeze act under the lift, itself.
But, in the depths of winter (which is 8 months of the year), when darkness falls early, and there are only 2 options: more apres ski or a theatre show (at either one of only two theatres...)
Ticket sales are as strong as a double whiskey hot-toddy.
Not to mention, the reception from the audience is warm. Like woolen gloves they embrace the jokes, and fly right over any technical snags like effortless moguls.
Word of mouth spreads like a game of tin-can telephone. The next weekend, your seats are bulging at the seams with happy bodies wrapped in wool.
In the city, not only are you competing with 90 degree evenings of grilling and chilling, you are asking audiences to choose you over Nationally Touring Productions (oh, wait...that's me)...um...I meant Nationally Touring Productions with 100 times more budget and wow-capabilities as your own and local production companies who have ridden (and well-deserved-ly survived) the relativity ebb and flow.
And...then of course, there's things like...Elitch Gardens.
Sob. I may be a "roller coaster ride of emotion" but I sure aint no REAL roller coaster.
And it's not just the attendance numbers.
In a city where good, solid entertainment is a way of life, the deepest pang comes from the effort to make a connection.
In urban-ity, even the body language is different.
In the mountains, the crowd sits forth ready to be spoon fed entertainment like warm porridge.
The city? Arms are crossed. One eye brow raised. You feel a bit like you have walked up to a stranger at Starbucks, tapped on his paper and asked to tell him a joke.
"This better be good"...
This is not to say that Denver audiences are not receptive. They are.
The show still really seems to touch people.
I still get the hugs, the tears and the thank you's after each performance.
I just feel like I have worked a little harder.
Okay. A lot. Harder.
Apparently, I've worked so hard, I make, "Sally Field seem ungrateful" (Denver Post)
And. Phew. It's true. I'm tired.
Yo, Saint Marks, more iced-mocha, stat!
As I drive home from the show, I remind myself, whether it be 1 or 1000 people attending, whether or not you had to Kung-Fu Panda the audience to give it out...
I left my job and committed to this journey of cat-food from a can and recycled panty hose...for a very specific reason.
I have a message.
I dream of the day people are throwing baggage out the window in celebration of this show!
And, sometimes, doesn't it feel even better getting something the old fashioned way.
To EARN it.
Thanks Denver for helping me earn some baggage chops.
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