Generally, I don’t drink very much. I like a glass of red wine every now and then and there was a time when I drank a dark beer every night in order to help me keep weight on but other than that – I don’t generally drink much. I’ve considered trying to become an alcoholic a few times in my life but that is another story. Seriously – you would have thought that having a few alcoholics in my family would have made that foray more successful – but I digress. I have been drunk on the job twice. Once unintentionally and once very intentionally.
The season had begun which meant a show every night. Despite our late night work schedule, the director insisted that the entire company show up for the early morning company class and a short rehearsal. It was Claude’s birthday and because the morning rehearsal ended early – at eleven o’clock – Delia and I asked Claude if we could take him out to lunch to celebrate. He agreed, so off we went to our favorite local bar and restaurant. We all ordered scotch on the rocks with our meals and toasted to Claude’s good health. I still don’t know where the time went but somehow Delia, Claude and I managed to sit in the restaurant all afternoon – drinking and talking. I glanced down at my watch and received a shock. It was five thirty! We were due in the theatre in a half an hour. Delia and I quickly paid the bill, wished Claude a good night and ran to the transit that would take us to the theatre.
“I think I’m drunk,” said Delia as she sat next to me on the train. “Me too,” I said. “We’re in trouble,” Delia moaned. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “We still have two hours to sober up.” Although the two of us knew that we had had too much to drink, we didn’t think that anyone else would notice. You know that you are really drunk when you think that no one else can tell that you’re drunk. Delia and I quickly changed into our practice clothes and ran down to the theatre rehearsal hall for the pre-show warm-up. Silvia was teaching. As the class began, Silvia passed by Delia and me and stopped. She stood looking at us with her hands on her hips and her mouth open. “You two are drunk.” Delia and I tried to explain to her what had happened but she stopped us. “Go upstairs, drink a ton of coffee and get sober – NOW!” For the next two hours, Delia and I downed cups of strong black coffee and tried to get our focus and physical coordination back under control. We did manage to sober up a bit but it was not an easy performance. The queasiness of our stomachs made the entire show a monumental test in willpower – of trying not to throw up on stage. When the show finally ended, we sat in our dressing room exhausted. Silvia stopped in. “I hope the two of you have learned your lesson about drinking on a show day,” she said to us laughing. We nodded apologetically. Yes – we had learned our lesson. Thank god the director never found out what had happened. Being drunk on stage was a good cause for firing.
Although I really did like the choreographer that we were working for, he sometimes had these moments of pure unadulterated stupidity that could drive you insane. He would latch onto some idea and he would rehearse it over and over and over until either you dropped from exhaustion or he got what he wanted. When we were working on the large group scenes, this meant that if anyone in the cast made the slightest mistake, we would have to do the entire scene over again. The chance of everyone in the cast getting new choreography perfect was pretty slim – so now you know how our day was going. For the entire morning we had been walking in slow motion. That’s it – just walking – in slow motion. I ask you – how hard can this be? For some reason, it was never right and we would do it again and again and again. The lunch break came and the choreographer dismissed us saying that we would pick it up at same place when we came back. I was loosing my mind. Walking in slow motion wasn’t any physical feat – it was a surefire ticket to boredom. The thought of spending another two and a half hours walking around was driving me crazy. “Let’s go across the street and have a drink,” I suggested to Brian. “Sounds good to me,” he said. We headed to bar and when we got there decided to purposely get drunk. Three scotches later, we headed back to the studio feeling no pain. The afternoon rehearsal went by very easily. While the rest of the cast became increasingly hostile and angry over the repeated walk sequence, Brian and I remained quietly happy – floating in our own little world. The choreographer even thanked the two of us for our patience.