First post-Fringe blithering
So much went on for me this Fringe: so many lessons learned, many of them unpleasant, but all of them essential. I'm certain to have lots more to say about my adventures in the weeks and months to come. For now, I wanted to relate my favorite ego-stroking moment of the festival.
On Saturday, I arrived at my venue waaaaay before I could get onto the stage for my last performance. There Leora and I sat, hangin' around the lobby of the Center for Famous Playwrights, when the show before us let out. As the audience spilled into the lobby, I spotted one of the Fringe's spoken-word Grand Poobahs, Tom Cassidy. Tom attended a previous performance of my show (sitting in the front row and making me nervous), but he was in the middle of a mob of people, and I didn't think he'd seen me.
Suddenly, he stopped dead in the middle of the lobby and pointed at me. "Great show," he said, purposefully loudly. "Great show."
Tom doesn't throw his words around, and he doesn't praise shows he doesn't think are worth it. If he says your show is great, he thinks your show is great.
Alas, his plug didn't convince anyone in the audience from that show to stay for mine, but, damn, did that feel good.