The Last Day of Summer Camp

Thursday was my last full day in NYC so I got up early to get some seeing of the sights in before I dedicated myself to line waiting for most of the afternoon. For the budget traveler I offer the suggestion of staying at the Big Apple Hostel on 45th right off Times Square between 7th and 8th. Clean, convenient to attractions and subways and cheap (in New York dollars). Every morning I would walk outside and see Stephen in a giant poster form, protecting Times Square from unnecessary facts. Something that doesn't belong in that part of the city.
SO-I went to the Museum of Television and Radio-but it wasn't open until 12-that didn't fit my plans so that's off til next trip. Failing that I wandered the Park/Madison Ave area, looked at the Ed Sullivan Theatre and noted that the HelloDeli is a seriously unimposing structure. I was going to eat there-but no tables and after nearly three days of nearly non-stop walking my feet were killing me. With that being my main concern I went over the the general vicinity of the studio at about 1. There's plenty of places to eat-read the Onion and waste some time in that area and that's what I did. If yr going to a taping and hungry check out Mama's Empanada's I had the dessert Fig, Cheese and Something and it was de-licious. Had Thai food for lunch and stopped long enough to write a couple of postcards at the Studio Cafe. My gastronomical insights probably aren't what yr here for-this not being a Zagat's guide.
Got to the studio around 3. Was third in line, after a couple from Chicago. The male half of the pairing would volunteer to become Stephen's Hispanic friend and would be photographed accordingly much later on in the day. My place would fall to 7th after the couple decided that a third party should go to the show so they dedicated the entire line time asking everyone that walked by if they had an extra ticket. It was only after I realized I had been moved from front row center to second row stage right that I thought anything of this decision. Ahhh-well, whaddya gonna do? Everyone was happy-everyone got in-except the girl that had been waiting for a possible stand-by ticket since 1. Over the course of three hours we mostly tried to stay amused-took turns going to the nearby grocery store or the random building that didn't have a "Restrooms are for customers only" sign.
On Tuesday I'd tried for stand-by at the Daily Show (and heard later that there were empty seats after we'd been sent away-but perhaps that's just evil hearsay) and met a Montreal-er in NYC for the summer. She'd been trying to go to every taping in the city and failed and since I had an extra ticket to Thursday and we shared a fondness for Amy Sedaris and all the goodness that is Jon and Stephen I'd offered her the ticket. She showed up a little after 5 bearing the gift of cupcakes from Magnolia (because Amy must be too BUSY being a Big Star to make cupcakes at the moment). I enjoy the gift of sweets in whatever form.
Around that same time Stephen had been seen riding off to points unknown in his SUV. We in line were most curious as to why he would be leaving at that late hour. Beerrun? Quick roll thru the hood to clear the mind? We found out later he'd gone to TDS but the awesomeness of that didn't become completely clear until I got to see last night's episode just now. (And I see Dale Jr gave me a shout out "Too lazy to work too scared to steal" indeed.)
At 6 we were ushered into the waiting room.
The security gates made moving slow-particularly when bastard people such as myself insisted on carrying backpacks with everything she/he owns around at all times. Stupid, damn people. Hate them.
Not that I expected something big-but never having been to a tapng I didn't realize so much could be crammed into a small studio. I had way more fun than I should've perusing the contents of the shelves in person. (Not that I got to re-organize or even get anywhere near but I got to choose what I was looking at instead of seeing what the cameras decided to show.)
The music was real loud-giving the taping a rock show vibe. Lots of people have said and I agree that the choice of tunes is excellent. Plenty of rocking-lots of chances of Stephen dancing to take place.
After we got our instructions from Stage Manager Guy and Warm-Up Guy kept asking where people were from and I took that chance to represent East Nashville Stephen bounded out jumping around like a crazy person. He ran along the audience slapping palms with anyone within reach (I was only in the second row-so I got in on that fun) then he asked for any questions. Maybe I looked really eager, or was the first hand up-then again, it might be that he was standing directly in front of me and looking toward my section of the audience but he called on me.
I'd written a haiku-for this I blame Stephen Fry who wrote a book about exploring the poet within and so I was and I did.
"I wrote you a haiku."
"What? Is this the last day of summer camp?"
"Yeh, well, I was going to tap dance for you-but..."
"So 5-7-5, right?"
"I believe it's 5-7-5 anyway."
"Let's do this thing-go."
"Lincoln couldn't dance
Tip a hat Wag a finger
Bears? No, gravitas."
Haiku is never good-but I was happy to have got thru without falling over dead with embarassment for actually having read it out loud.
He ticked off the syllable with his fingers as I read. The audience was very polite-I am such a nerd.
"So, I was right?"
"Yeh, that's great. Love it."
And there were no more questions. The show started.
Act 1 was obscured for me by the camera. Act 2 was delayed because it started to rain-inside and out.
"Welcome to basic cable," was Stephen's explanation, "it's raining on the sound board and unless you want to catch fire we're going to have to wait until we get everything covered up." He took more questions, then after everything was secure went over to the greeen screen area and danced a bit with his prop steering wheel as a partner.
The interview with Eli Pariser went really smooth and I enjoyed it a lot. His entourage, the "largest in Report history" (there were no tickets to be had, so creativity was employed) and my cohort and I shared a doorway during the post-show downpour. He's a very likable fellow, even offering to send a cab our way so we didn't have to walk in the rain.
The show ended with a quick thank you, we've been a great audience and an ushering of everyone to the door. Even though we were near the front we were last out (we weren't milling at that point, but line for the restroom), maybe that's why we got caught in that downpour that hit NYC last evening-but I suspect just about everyone got soaked. We were just the only people brash enough to act like we belonged inside the studio doorway-kind of a foyer thing without the charm it was dry so it was my favorite place in the city at that precise moment.
Once the rain stopped we asked a guard if Stephen had left-he said no, not yet, might be awhile tho. We had no heavy plans, just some drinkin' at some nearby establishment to round out what seemed like a perfect day. Deciding booze could wait we figured we'd do a little laid back stage-dooring. Stand-by girl (I'm leaving names out since I got no release forms) came back right about then, she hadn't been able to see the show but she was stopping by with the same objective as had we. About 15-20 minutes later the door opened and out walked the man himself.
The guard we'd spoken with said something, Stephen looked up and nodded our direction. I walked to him and said something witty, like "Hi."
"Hi," he shook my hand. Maybe he asked my name, I'm pretty sure I told it to him.
"It's good to meet you." Everyone else introduced herself in a similar manner.
"Did you enjoy the show?" he asked.
"It was great, I laughed like a fool-I'm sure there's at least one point where my family can feel embarassment because I was too loud."
"Well, good, then," was his response.
Montreal got an autograph for a friend of hers back home and Stand-by mentioned she'd got a picture ealier.
Good Lord, he is a good looking man. I don't usually get phased by such things-but I fancy him. And what a complete sweetheart too, he was so friendly and open and funny in the way people are in conversation as opposed to performance. I'm glad I keep up with fandom so that I knew he'd be willing to stop and talk for a minute. And I'm glad more people don't so that there was only three of us there waiting.
"Would you mind a quick picture?"
"No, let's do this thing." I held my camera out in and snapped the shot. I was convinced the picture would be all wrong, our heads cut off or I'd be the only person in the shot but it came out really well. Highly ridiculous looking-I'd say it's because I don't photograph so good, but I think it's because I'm just funny looking. Actually, we're both looking pretty ridiculous in the shot-he's making a weird face I'm trying to position the camera so that the picture would come out okay. We both are carrying satchels so we look like refugees from a college English seminar dedicated to the works of Kurt Vonnegut. Drug use by both parties isn't out of the question. It's classic on the street photography.
High on that rush the three gushing fans headed to a bar far trendier than I would normally frequent. There we drank the cheapest mojitos in the land ($5! WTF, you can't get a $5 mojito at my local back home in Akron, OH) and the bartender gave me a free margarita for some reason. That was when I realized I was quite hungry. But there was socializing to do. Which we did. I am not a social person-I hate people, but I love gatherings. This was a gathering so I had a blast, but my bags were at the hostel and I had to get them by midnight so I had to leave the revelry shortly after 11 and shortly after Dan Dinello (I think-things grow hazy here-but he clearly wasn't Paul, but was definately related) showed up and (again, reason is out the door at this point) I introduced myself to him by flashing some of the whitest gang signs in the history of the universe. He did the same. I was clearly drunk-just moments earlier I was heard to exclaim that my holiday wouldn't be complete unless there were some motherfuckin' snakes on my motherfuckin' plane. I think the conversation had been about increased security measures at the airport, but it quickly devolved into Snakes on a Plane quoting-in my defense the other person involved in the conversation started it.(I hate how I can't remember all the names of everyone I met-some people gave me business cards so I remember those names, but otherwise I can just remember details like what TV show they write for or which union they're in--but then, y'all probably don't care about those details anyway) Now, dear reader, given my state, what better time could there be to walk through Hell's Kitchen? I couldn't think of one.
Got back to the hostel, retrieved the rest of my worldy possessions and went next door to Connolly's bar (New York home of my favorite band and right good guys all around Black 47) for one last drink before catching the last train out of the city to Newark. The doorman at Connolly's let me watch The Colbert Report with close-captioning so I got to see the episode the first time it aired.
When the show was over, "America" by Simon and Garfunkle came on the sound system and I took the random choice of one of my favorite songs as a sign that the night should be ended on a high note.
I stumbled to Penn Station and got to the airport at 2:30. Then I spent 4 hours in the check in and security lines with informaion about what we could and couldn't take on the plane changing from minute to minute. If I hadn't had such a great time on Thursday Friday morning would've really pissed me off. But I got some sleep on the plane and I'm home now.