Say Ah!

It’s my weakness, my nemesis, the bane of my existence; The pronunciation of my name. My parents blessed me with a name that is not said as it appears, which obviously causes a problem when meeting someone for the first time.

“Hi, I’m Andrea”

“Nice to meet you Ayndreea.”

“No, it’s Ahhhndrea”

“Oh, sorry. See you soon Ahndrayah.”

Bah.

After college, I decided to change the spelling of my name so I could be separated from the other ensemble wanna-be’s with the same name, so I added a ‘u’ to aid in the task of saying my name. Sure as shootin’, my very first professional audition, bingo! The young lady called out my name and I was singing my three and a half bars of ‘Heat Wave’. Just as quickly I heard “Thank you!” and the rest is history. (Needless to say, the Toronto production of Hairspray managed to go on without me.) Also, now that I’m married, my surname Ferrett is somewhat easier then the Czech concoction I proudly carried with me. The extra t sometimes throws people for a loop, but it hasn’t been too rough.

Recently, my first name has created some controversy amongst some people on the ship. To aid said person, we agreed that I would write out my name phonetically, and then after repeating it to him approximately 46 times, all would be right with the world. Apparently this was not the right move in the game that was my name, and said person was offended that I would do this. I now had an issue of miscommunication on my hands. Apparently after being called the wrong name over a dozen times didn’t warrant correction, and the offence I took to being called the wrong name was not valid. (In the words of Homer Simpson, “In case you can’t tell I’m being sarcastic”.)

I used to not like my name when I was little, but upon meeting a cashier with the same name at a grocery store with my Mom, she reminded me how special we were, and that so few people had the honour of having their name said differently then the typical Andrea.

I am proud of my name, and all of the nicknames that have come from it. (Thanks to Ioana for the famous Aunds/Aunnie in college.) And for those of you who after this many years still can’t pronounce my name properly, shame on you. We have all managed to let Governer Schwarzenegger's name roll of our tongues, so surely my name is the next to be conquered. Until then, I will continue to repeat my name as often as possible, and endure the several hundred variations of pronunciations that have come up over the years.

When in doubt, I will always answer to Dame Ferrett of London.

No, London, Ontario. 

Will the confusion ever end??

It's The Most Wonderful Time...

 

Drum roll please!  Ladies & Gentlemen it is officially my favourite day of the year, Christmas Eve Day!!!  (A quick reminder that my family celebrates on the 24^th in true European tradition.)  Once again my job has taken me away from the hustle and bustle that is currently happening on West Afton Place, but I have come up with my own version of the Dlouhy Christmas, a sort of ‘to-go’ version of family events for a cruise ship.  (Available for $19.95 at any local Sears Outlet Mall.)

At home, smells that permeate the house on the 24th around 1pm are indescribable.  It is the seafood chowder that my Mom tempts our taste buds with for this once a year hullabaloo.  She makes it from scratch, from memory each year.  This specialty (that will one day be bestowed upon me) contains among other delights, chunks of lobster, crab and scallops, potatoes, 4 litres of cream, and oodles of love.  This year my version of this holiday treat is a can of Pier Market Restaurant’s version of clam chowder from San Francisco.  It’s a step up from last years Campbell’s version, but it doesn’t hold a candle to my Mom’s original masterpiece.

Everyone arrives carrying Jenga-like teetering piles of presents, mainly for my niece Émilie. This year Adam & I carried our piles down deck 5, and have now forbidden each other from looking in each other’s closets.  (Insert jokes where necessary.)  We then simulate the Rudolph walk my family takes after dinner, where my Mom stays home to “do the dishes” while the remaining Dlouhy’s, (including our dog Jenny) wander around the neighbourhood in sub-zero temperatures and are allowed to return to the warmth of the living room only when the Christmas lights are turned back on.  This year I will walk around deck 7 in 30 degree Celsius sunshine while Adam “irons his work shirts”.  I can then return to the cabin to find that Santa has arrived, much like he does on West Afton Place.

After that, the festivities include visits from family friends, further investigation of presents and lots of home-made cookies, (which I have thanks to Mom and Canada Post) wine, coffee and stories.  We occasionally go to midnight mass, which this year will include me singing hymns for the passengers in the Princess Theatre accompanied by Steve Lee, our bandmaster and piano player extraordinaire. 

And so there you have it; A pint-size version of the Dlouhy Canadian Christmas brew ha-ha that can be yours for four easy payments of $4.99.  Don’t bother keeping your receipt, it won’t be necessary.  After 30 years of celebrating this way, there is no way I would ask for a refund of these events.

So to everyone from a very humid Cartagena, Colombia, I wish you a very Merry Christmas (yes, in my blog I can actually say that) and a wonderful and exciting 2011.  Wherever you are or may end up for your celebrations, may a piece of home be with you and the true meaning of Christmas remain in your hearts.

Now then, who can tell me if FedEx ships seafood soups for a reasonable price?

Silver Bells

5728!

Being in warm weather at Christmas is always a little jarring.  As a true Canadian, each winter I proudly dawn my toque (In Canada, toque, or tuque ( /ˈtuːk/), is the common name for a knit winter hat. The Canadian English term was assimilated from Canadian French tuque.)  pull on my Uggs and wrap up in a Christmas Story-like garb of coats, scarves and gloves to shovel snow, chip away at ice or try to locate my car in a series of snow drifts.  It's beautiful, it's cold, and it's Christmasy.  

Today I have the pleasure of enjoying the afternoon in Aruba, in weather that is less than winter-like.  It's 25 degrees Celcius, and I am sitting outside of a Starbucks sipping a passion iced tea wearing shorts and a tank top.  I am surrounded by Christmas decorations and images of Santa, but no matter what, it doesn't feel like Christmas.  Where's the chill in the air?  The strangers helping each other through slushy roads as their cars become lodged in unforgiving snow banks?  Where are the children making snow angels and pulling sleds up mountains of snow?  It just isn't right.

The ship is also decked out in it's Christmas finery.  It looks really nice actually, but again, mounds of cotton batting do not a winter wonderland make, so I have tried to be as festive as possible within my own cabin.  No, I have not purchased a snow machine to create an 'authentic' wonderland, but my decorating within the 7x9 cube is quite spectacular, and complete with a shipment of Mom's Christmas cookies, I'm ready for the 24th to arrive.

As nice as it is doing this job, sometimes I wish that for just 48 hours it would snow and create that chilled peace that is a Canadian Christmas.  (Remind me of this next year when I'm cursing the weather and crying to get back to a ship!)

For now, I guess I'll just have to endure the sun and sand, and enjoy my Target-bought winter wonderland that is cabin 5728.  I'll even wear my toque sometimes!

Out with the old...

I am in a transition phase at the moment, and I am really NOT good with change. I am in what we “cruisies”(that’s what we call ourselves, I swear) call install. Install is when the cast comes onto the ship and earns our full contract pay in the first 10 days by working 13 hours a day, every day. Alright, I exaggerate slightly, but it truly is the most exhausting part of the contract, emotionally and physically. We work diligently to get all the production shows up, go to training, do costume fittings, move into our new cabins and become acquainted with the new ship trying not to break any of the 374 rules we were briefed on in the first five minutes of being on board. We eat and sleep in between all of these things, and while we perform one show at night, we are rehearsing three different shows during the day. It’s nuts, and it’s a big love/hate relationship with the job. We love to hate our job.

This install period is quite different from any I’ve done before. I chose to extend on the good ol’ Island Princess until June, making my contract a full year here. So while performing for the final time with my previous (or OLD cast as they kept saying) I was also enjoying debut performances with my new cast. It was so odd. I felt like I was having an affair on my previous cast. By day I would joke around with and get to know my new cast mates, and at night I would celebrate birthdays and carry on with my current cast. I felt sneaky and secretive. It was also very odd to see my cast in the audience as spectators rather then sharing the stage with them. Now, before any of my new cast members read this and think “Oh, well. She doesn’t like us newbies!” Not so! I am very lucky to have a lovely bunch of eager, talented performers to take me through the next 6 months of my life, but as my fellow singer Eric pointed out, you become a little family at sea, and no matter how your family gets along, you are a team, and when your team disbands, it’s hard to witness, and it’s always the most difficult when you’re the one left behind.

I chose my fate, and I don’t regret my decision, (my niece is not thrilled with my decision but she doesn’t pay my Visa bill) but as I get over the first cruise hump of “I should have been home”-itis, I of course look back on the past six months and remember a lot of laughs, a lot of crazy stories, and a lot of crazy people. (You know who you are...Becky.) Anyway, like I said, through good times and bad our crazy family stuck together, dragging each other through hell and back, and even to the gym to do Turbo Jam when all I wanted to do was sleep. So, to any of you Shenanigans who take the time to read this, thank you for everything this contract. And to my new cast, thank you for making me feel like a member of your family so quickly. We’re going to have a lot of fun.

Seriously though, is it June 8th yet?

Breathe Easy

I recently suffered, yes suffered from a sinus infection.  This was the first infection of my sinuses I had ever encountered, and it was not fun.  (Again, I suffered.)  I couldn’t breathe through my nose, my m’s turned to b’s and I ate so many Ricola cough drops my cheek has a permanent square indentation next to my molars.  Being on a ship while inflicted with ailments can be quite frustrating as the medical supplies for crew members are limited to the H1N1 vaccine (which seemed to help my sprained ankle) and Actifed, a daytime Day-quil rip off that causes extreme drowsiness if swallowed with water.

Thankfully my sickness only lasted about 5 days, which 2 of those were days off, so my voice didn’t suffer as much as my husband did cleaning up the mountains of Kleenex I would lovingly leave everywhere.  I attempted to put myself on vocal rest, which lasted all of 20 minutes, but I’m happy to report I’m now at 99% health. 

Through those five days, I decided to re-connect with television shows past, and came across Arrested Development.  The fact that this show only lasted three seasons before it was cancelled still amazes me.  I admit it’s not a knee slapping “will Ross & Rachel finally get together?” kind of comedy, but that’s what makes it so great.  The Bluth’s are a family that, while trying to do what’s best for the family, inadvertently end up sabotaging themselves.  I think it paved the way for 30 Rock and The Office, and followed The Simpsons and Frasier, comedies that make you think and appreciate sarcasm & wit.

My family is sarcastic.  Well, everyone but my Mom.  My Mom is more ha-ha funny, but she’s learning.  A few years ago we were all gathered around the table (a rare occurrence since I’m usually sailing the high seas) and as usual we were laughing about jokes from 10 years ago and making sarcastic comments back and forth to each other.  My Mom had had enough, and as she sat down she said “This family is way too sarcastic with each other and it has to stop!”  We thought she was kidding.  I believe it was my brother Dennis who mentioned that after almost 40 years it was unlikely our comedic family would change it’s ways, my Mom gave up and we went back to quoting National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.

So, Buckley’s and various other lotions and potions brought me back to health while the Bluth’s helped me laugh away my few days of solitude.  I think it’s a better prescription then anything the medical facility would hand out to me.  Incidentally, I still have 6 Actifeds left so if anyone needs a nice 7 hour nap, send me a self addressed stamped envelope and I’ll be happy to send one along.  It’ll clear you right up.

Locked and Loaded

Another cruise, another trip through the “amazing” Panama Canal.  Before I get started, let’s go on a little information romp to learn more about this engineering marvel shall we?  Yes. 

One of the great engineering feats of the 20th century, the Panama Canal accomplished what nature forgot to do; it connected the Atlantic to the Pacific, and reduced the 12,000 mile sailing distance between New York and San Francisco by more than 7,000 miles. In 1880, The French Canal Company began construction, but plagued by diseases, financial burdens and engineering problems, they sold the canal's rights and properties to the United States for $40 million. The US began construction in 1904 and completed it ten years later at a cost of roughly $387 million an unprecedented amount at the time. 

So every 15 days or so I throw my curtains aside and am greeted by a brick wall mere inches (literally) from my portholes.  It’s really amazing.  Watching the ship being guided through each of the three sets of locks is still impressive no matter how many times I see it.  And when I realize people have saved up for years to experience this makes me appreciate my job all the more.  Every place I get to visit is a dream destination for most of the people that fall asleep during our shows.  (Let’s face it, Do You Wanna Dance can’t really compare to a wonder of the world.) 

It costs the ship somewhere in the area of $320,000 dollars to cross the canal every trip we make.  No wonder the cost of the cruise is one of the highest of all the itineraries!  Again, this canal is like nothing else in the world, so much like a ticket to the Opening Ceremonies for the 2012 Olympics in London, they can charge whatever they like.  (My mother in law recently informed me a ticket is going for around 2000 pounds.) 

It’s just one of those moments when I think, “Oh, Panama Canal day, may as well do laundry” that I step out onto the open deck and really take in what I’m surrounded by.  One day our kids will be learning about this canal and ask me about it and I’ll be able to say I went through it over 30 times, and of those 30 times, I only lost a sock twice.

Not too shabby.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panama_Canal

Memories...

I recently purchased the Neat scanner to try and organize my taxes, receipts, and my leaning tower of pisa-like stack of other papers that I can’t bring myself to part with. This thing is incredible, and I encourage everyone to get one if you are self-employed or an independent contractor. My accountant is going to be smitten with me when I submit my 2010 tax return.

While going through my over 200 receipts, I was reading each one to ensure It was placed in it’s rightful tax category, and many of the receipts brought up some amazing memories. It was like looking through a photo album of the past 8 months. Yes, some were simple memories like treasured dinners at Taco Bell, or a quick trip to Shoppers Drug Mart (I’m telling you after 6 sea days these receipts almost brought a tear to my eye) but some made me burst out laughing or had Adam & I recounting an event that was memorable.

- $24.93 at Walmart on tweezers, a Lady GaGa CD and a Crayola chalk making set.
This was the day my adorable niece experienced petting a cactus at my Mom’s house. Unfortunately my Mom didn’t have tweezers, so I drove Émilie to Wal-mart to buy some. She was so uncomfortable but was so great the entire drive there. When I got in the car, GaGa’s Bad Romance was playing on the radio, so to make her laugh I was dancing around in the car like crazy and getting her to repeat the chorus with me. After we spent a good 15 minutes getting all the needles out of her palm, I told her she could pick out one craft for being so brave. She looked up at me and asked “May we get the Gaga song?” What was I to do? Off to the entertainment department we went and we were singing it on a continuous loop, and have been ever since. (She also lucked out with the craft at Uncle Mike’s insistence.)

- $35.70 at Monoghan’s Sports Bar and Pub in Oakville, ON
This was after seeing Anything Goes at Sheridan College, the old alma mater bringing about a mini reunion of sorts between myself, Michael Hughes, Tricia Lackey (another tag Dishz), Sarah Slywchuk, Jeigh Madjus, Tom Delbello, Sarah Sheps, Ari Weinburg and Steve Thomas. (Yes, I’m name dropping.) Monoghan’s was our local local poutine hole (or watering hole) during college and it was so great to have so many of our classmates there again enjoying overpriced pub food. Funny how now that we are actually making money the prices bother us, but as a student buried in debt extra cheese and another beer wasn’t even a question.

- $12.00 at Toronto Pearson Airport
This was a wonderful pick-up receipt as opposed to a dropping off one where Adam & I picked up his parents for a lovely visit in March. They got to see our apartment in the ghetto of London, and I can still boast about being victorious in our first (and last) nomination whist tournament in that apartment.

- $32.50 at Conception Sushi London, ON
This was when I decided to introduce my Mom to sushi outside of the walls of Loblaws. It was amazing, and she was converted. I have a feeling she hasn’t been back since, but I loved sitting in the basement watching Iron Chef and helping her with her word jumble game on the computer munching on shrimp tempura rolls. Even my Dad managed to choke down a few.

I have a receipt from the London Ale House from the day my brothers and good friend Andrew helped me move the apartment into a storage space the size of a thimble in the pouring rain. We were doubled over with laughter on several occasions, and managed to fit everything in with a cubic millimeter to spare. I have one from a Kelsey’s in St. Catherine’s where my brother Mike & I stopped en route to the Elton John/Billy Joel mash-up concert in Buffalo. It was a dream come true to see that, and to see it with him was the best. Lord knows we’ve butchered enough of their songs in the basement over the years. Many Tim Horton’s memories with 2 medium coffees, usually one for me and one for my Dad, too many Shoppers Drug Mart ones with needless toiletries (thanks Mom) and never enough New York Fries receipts with a regular poutine and iced tea on them.

Who knew that preparing for the dreadful event of taxes could bring about such a great feeling of happy memories, and regretted purchases.

Seriously, who’s in the market for a Bissel apartment vacuum that can barely suck up a feather? I’ve got one going cheap, and I have the receipt if you need to return it.

Spare Some Change

I’m not going to count my chickens before they hatch, but the last 48 hours on board the ship have been a real breath of fresh air.  We recently went into a dry dock, where the ship gets put into a dock, all water is drained out and they paint, repair, re-carpet and generally revamp the ship in 10 days.  It’s amazing to see the ship out of its element and stripped of its gold plated glamour for a few days.

With this dry dock came a big change in crew as well, which can mean a major shift in morale and overall comfort.  As a crew member, regardless of company or ship, we generally do a 6-8 month contract in one stretch.  From Australia to Alaska, each crew member is separated from their family and friends.  Yes, we chose the life and job we have, but it’s still hard.  I’m the first to admit that I am not good with big change, and the first time I came onto a ship it was not only the first time I was living with a stranger, it was also the first time I had ever even seen a cruise ship, let alone lived on one.  Your schedule changes, eating habits are different, and you meet people from all over the world just by walking down a hallway.  You must learn to tolerate people who are not used to the words “excuse me” or “please”, and you must adapt to a class system that while not completely tragic, is startling when you’re used to eating or going where you want, when you want.

A 6 month contract can feel like forever when you are dealing with people you don’t always mesh with.  This is especially hard at sea, and different from any land job.  There is no escape here at sea, no secrets left locked up.  Work is your home, and vice versa.  A job on land brings the relief of neutral zones like the gym, a night out to the movies or your own home, but not the case on a ship.  Personal problems are hard to leave at the door, and it can become difficult to see the light at the end of the 6 month tunnel. 

Coming back from this dry dock started a very long 9 month journey for Adam and I.  We have decided to extend our time here on the ship to save up and keep working consistently.  To come back to a bright clean ship with fresh faces and a new exciting outlook on the job is a great way to start this long journey. 

So while the changes to the Island may not be apparent to those passengers who join us for a short time, the most important changes are those that have lifted morale and helped let a little bit of light through the tunnel that once seemed to just be a dead end.

Change, though sometimes scary, is good.   For now.

Here Comes The Sun

Being Canadian, most may think I am accustomed to tundra like conditions with 40 foot drifts of heavy snow, tunneling out of my igloo each morning to reach my Bombardier snowmobile to pick up maple syrup and poutine for dinner.  (I don't recommend combining the two.)  Fortunately, over the years my job has brought me from the sunny Mediterranean and back to the misty fjords of Alaska.  

Today however, was a heat that I have not felt in quite some time.  I believe it reached 103 if I read the five day forecast right, and for this Canuck, that's just not right.  I love sun, and I'm not complaining about my lovely afternoon by the pool, but when I can't even go from my deck chair to the pool without receiving third degree burns on my feet, it makes me wonder, who on earth would want to live here year round?  

Canadian summers are (for those southern folk who glance at this) very warm.  With humidity we also reach almost unbearable temperatures, but it's a different kind of heat that doesn't make you want to jump into a sewer grate hoping there is cool sludge below.  I do miss my winters though.  Christmas without snow isn't Christmas to me, be it a gentle dusting of flakes, or a cartoon like pile of snow that prevents you from seeing across the street, that's what winter is about for me.

West Afton Place mid January

Back deck in June...or December

So for the next few days I will press on through Mr. Sun's blinding triple digit glow, and welcome back winter with open arms in Mexico, where it will only be 93 degrees.  

Better find my toque!

Cause You've Got To Have Friends

I am not a good friend.

I realized this when my good friend TRICIA LACKEY pointed out that my blog page didn't contain a category about her or my other ex-Sheridan babe SARAH SLYWCHUK.  So not only will I create a category for them, (by simply adding them as a label) I will capslock their names.  That should start to bridge the gap and ease the pain. 

Sarrey & Loods

Sidenote: Why is the word capslock not in capitals on the key?

Anyhoo, just when I thought I had peaked on the friend meter, I realized I had neglected two very important and wonderful people in my life.  The ones who point out my flaws and remind me that there were two other people in my class who could belt a half step higher then me.  If that's not friendship, I don't know what is.  So to them I say, I am sorry, and that my category list is now even better since you have been added to it.

Dishz, Michael and Andrea

Oh, Laurie (sorry LAURIE) has also noted that she isn't a category.  Laurie was my roommate during my years at Sheridan, so she was a surrogate classmate as well.  Anyone who lets TOM DELBELLO (I beat him to it) sleep in our computer room on an air mattress deserves credit.  Street credit.

Tom realizing I have no pa-cha

Mini Boobs & Boobs

Not having them identified as categories at least made me realize they may be reading this blog, so that's a plus.  (Or Trish just reads my categories, which would be weird but wouldn't surprise me or MICHAEL HUGHES.  Well, he's already a category but I like the look of the big names, so I'll keep him in caps.)

So for those of you who wonder, "When will I get categorized?"  Just write me.  Let me know you're out there.  Make me feel guilty.  Works every time.

Oh, and TRISH...while I'm polishing my ear training award tonight, I'll be thinking of you.  In all caps.

 

Winter's on the Wing

As the Alaskan season comes to a close (with very uncharacteristic weather I might add, thank you 23 degrees or 403 for my US readers, in our final port!) I just wanted to update all three of my readers that I will soon be headed back to the movie-set like fictional town of Santa Clarita, CA for the next 10 days to learn a new show.  Nothing helps a sprained ankle like hours of choreography.  Ha ha.  I'm such a dancer.

Anyway, this last Alaskan run I was very lucky to have my brother Mike cruise, see and smell the salmon fight for their lives upstream, miss every opportunity to go dog sledding, and enjoy a few pints of Spruce Tip Ale at the Skagway Brewing company.  I also discovered a lovely café called the Stowaway Café in Skagway that had the most incredible sandwiches and service I've encountered on this route.  This itinerary is definetely about the food and internet if you're a crew member.  Alaska can feel somewhat sad at times, so while I appreciate the beauty that is the wilderness, I'll be happy to arrive on the 45 degree beaches of Cartagena, Colombia in a few weeks.

We will be doing 15 day runs through the Panama Canal between LA and Fort Lauderdale.  The canal is truly a marvel, and a great day to do laundry.  I know I may seem ungrateful, but if you work at Starbucks, their mocha-frappa-latté-steamer-chinos don't seem so glamorous after a while either.  Again I say, I am lucky to have the job I have, but at the end of the day, it's still a job.  I welcome this itinerary change though.  A little vitamin D will be good for all of us.  (And the likelihood of getting locked in a tanning bed like Adrian Zmed did in Skagway isn't as probable in the ports we'll be hitting.)

So long cloudy skies and and foggy passages.  It's been a slice, but I hope we don't meet up any time soon.  I've got a tan to work on.

Sprain Has Sprung

So yesterday in the spirit of all things Zmed, (Adrian Zmed that is) I sprained my ankle doing a full out pony during the 50’s section of his show.  I know my friend Sarah will like this, despite the outcome of me hurting myself.  She always loves a full out pony. 

For those of you who stopped watching television after 1987, Adrian Zmed is star of stage and screen with such hits as T.J. Hooker with William Shatner, and Dance Fever featuring spandex and mohawks.  Mr. Zmed is probably best known for his role as pseudo-Danny in the movie Grease 2, and for my music theatre junkies, he’s on the original cast album of Children of Eden, and has performed the role of Danny in Grease more then anyone else…ever.  All joking aside, he’s a lovely, humble and funny guy, and we are lucky to have him on our ship.  We are basically eye candy during his show and perform in about 60% of it.  In approximately 2% of that 60, I “dance”.  (Please note the use of quotes as I never have nor will ever claim to be a dancer.  Whenever a passenger says “Hey!  It’s one of the dancers!”  I quickly correct them and say that I am a singer.  Some may see this as diva-ish, but I cannot even attempt to do what our talented and very underpaid dancers do, so it’s out of respect I make sure people know my movement abilities are limited.) 

So there I was in my poodle skirt and 10 pound blonde wig trying to impress my Dance Captain with my pony and wham!  My ankle became jello-like and flopped into a position even Gumby himself wouldn’t attempt.  I have never sprained or broken anything, so this feeling of pain and shock was new to me.  I carried on, (like the true professional that I am contrary to what my Cruise Director thinks) and finished the show with little more than a wince. Mind over matter kicked in and I did the second show reassuring myself I was fine with every step. 

Today is a new day, and my ankle is a tad swollen and sore.  A ship has most of the amenities that are on land, but one thing that doesn’t change is the doctor’s office hours.  Obviously we do shows in the evening when the office is closed, so last night my medical attention was a bag of ice and a post-show beer provided by my husband.  I have to say they both helped.  The ice kept my beer cold, and the beer kept my mind at ease.  It’s amazing how often performers hurt themselves, some permanently, and so many push through the pain to perform another day.  Last night put some things into perspective.  I always remind myself I’m lucky to have the job I have, but with the quick twist of an ankle it can quickly cease.  I’ve seen dancers go down with bad knees, strained shoulders, broken legs and worse.  We put ourselves through years of training and dedication to have it taken away with one count of eight.  Singers lose their voices with overuse, abuse and illness potentially losing their voices permanently.  It’s not your average office job.  Our bodies are our bread and butter.  Our survival counts on our ability to push ourselves physically and mentally, over and over again for the audiences’ enjoyment.  I hope the audience enjoyed it.  A good amount of people showed their support by walking out or falling asleep, but I don’t take it personally.  A situation like this just makes me realize how fragile it all is, and how quickly something can be taken away or put at risk.

So I’m off to the doctors this afternoon for a misdiagnosis of Norovirus, but with the help of my Chiropractor from home via email, I have been assured that ice, rest and a lower heel on my shoe is my best road to recovery.

Lesson learned.  Don’t drink and jive.

Back To School

My family is laden with teachers.  I am the "one that got away" per say, and ventured into the unsavory world of the arts with it's lack of dental benefits and a pension, but at least I get to see the world.  Look out Skagway!  Here I come!  Anyway, in a family full of educators, the first day back to school is always an exciting one.  I am somewhat strategically not home to assist with bulletin board preparation or pencil sharpening, but I was around to help both of my brothers when they started teaching.  Ten years plus and I think they have all that down now.  My sister-in-law is currently on maternity leave, and Mike is taking a year off for reasons that deserve their own blog.  In short, I'm glad he is taking the time.  It's well deserved, and it gives me the chance to have him tape all of my favourite shows and send them to me.  (Hint hint, Mike!  When are you getting a DVR?!) 

I've gotten off topic and I haven't even started.  This September is especially exciting as my niece Émilie will be starting school for the first time.  She will be attending a French first-language school because she is smarter then, well, me.  While she only speaks French to my brother Dennis, and even then it's rare, the fact that she can speak two and half languages, (she insists she speaks Czech if you ask her.  My Dad speaks it to her and she understands most of it.) qualifies her as a genius to me.  She has an amazing sense of Dlouhy-sarcasm, and can sing almost every lyric of any Disney soundtrack she has heard.  She also does a mean version of Bad Romance by Lady GaGa, but that's just between her and I en route to Wal-mart.  Again, I've strayed from the focus.  I cannot believe that she will be hopping on a school bus in a mere 3 days and joining the world of education.  

I remember my first day of school.  All of them.  Pre-Kindergarten:  My Mom walked me there, and I remember walking in and seeing all of the activity centers.  That's really all I remember.  That kitchen set-up was amazing, and my size.  Oh, and I had a beautiful pink towel for nap time, and my Mom wrote my name on it in big block letters.  I remember looking back at the door and seeing my Mom's face, a big smile and wave, and then I was 14 and going to high school.  It goes by so fast.  I don't say that to sound wise, it really does.  I still remember what I wore the first day of grade 9.  Let's just say it was perhaps the best Smart Set had to offer that 1994 fall, but what was I thinking?  My first day of grade 10 was the most uncomfortable due to the torso hugging plastic back brace I had to wear for the first month thanks to my back surgery.  Nothing makes a teenager feel more confident then headgear and a back brace.  My first day at Sheridan is still crystal clear.  I walked into the G-wing at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement and was met by a lovely Asian looking girl running at me yelling "I'm Rochelle!  Are you in my class?!"  She then gave me a huge hug, and three years later we were graduating.

I hope Émilie has a blast on Tuesday.  I hope a lot of things for her.  I hope her teacher is kind and patient like the teachers in my family are.  I hope the kids realize she is the coolest kid ever, and they are lucky to have her in their class.  I hope she isn't shy and uses her Dlouhy charm on everyone.  I hope the bus ride doesn't scare her, and that she finds a buddy on the bus to chat with.  I hope she remembers how proud I am of her and how much I wish I could be there to pick her up and take her to Tim Hortons for a strawberry timbit.  Most of all I hope Dennis and Christi-Anne remember to write her name on all of her stuff for her and avoid putting peanuts in her lunch box.  We don't want any grandmothers complaining through a tracheotomy tube about anaphylactic shock.  (Long story.  Just trust me on this.)

So have fun E.  Tuesday begins a long journey for you.  But don't worry.  Soon enough you'll be looking back wondering where it all went, and trying to figure out how to pay for your next dental check-up.  Benefits are over rated.  Trust me.

Let Me Clear My Throat

Not only is this a "hit" song (according to my husband) from the late 90's, but it's a problem that most singers encounter.  As a singer, I seem to have a knack for catching any throat related virus, bacteria or controversy that circulates within 1000 yards of me.  I guess it's a gift.  Some people catch butterflies, I catch strep.  

This recent bout of throat-itis is puzzling.  My throat doesn't hurt per say, but I feel like my voice could go at any moment.  I don't know where my voice box would travel too, but it would surely leave me in a bind as it's the reason I'm employed at the moment.  I think it's every singers worst nightmare to lose their voice.  I need not bring up the Julie Andrews story.  Just goes to show that it could happen to anyone.

Living on a ship, the air conditions are less then lovely sometimes.  My room at one moment can smell like citrus and green tea, (thanks to my Febreeze flame-less candle) and then gasoline and bacon the next.  Paint fumes are my second favourite, and then the illusive mystery smell that emanates every once and a while.  I steer clear of the smoke soaked crew bar as much as possible, but living in such a confined environment creates for a serious bacteria pool that I don't want to think a lot about.  I'm actually surprised I don't have more problems then what I'm facing at the moment.

Regardless, I have enough herbal cough drops, throat syrups and sprays to start a store in my cabin, but this one issue doesn't want to seem to budge.  I am so immune to Buckley's cough syrup, I can actually take a shot of it in-between songs without wincing.  I attempted to douse my throat in garlic hummus yesterday, hoping it would if not kill the bacteria, create such a horrible smell my throat would have no choice but return to it's normal state of health out of disgust.  We'll see how it goes.  I've also tried my sister-in-laws favourite remedy- soaking my throat in beer.  But alas, no matter how hard I try I am still not at 100%.

So, let's hope that I get through tonight's shows without squeaking or cracking.  If anyone has any other remedies that can be accessed while in Alaska, I'm all ears.  Until then, it's back to beer, hummus and my paint fumes.

A Day In the Life

My beyond talented college friend Michael Hughes (check out his CD!) has put out a request that I not only write blogs more often because he’s so bored, (thank you Toronto theatre scene!) but to basically give a run down of my day-in-the-life as a cruise ship performer.  He himself is about to embark on an ocean liner for an extended period of time for the first time (to my knowledge), and perhaps I can impart some words of wisdom as he sees a rundown of the daily events of life onboard. 

I am fortunate to be able to wake up later than most 9-5 employees.  (Cue several of my family members rolling their eyes.)  Because the majority of our work takes place in the evening, as long as I'm up before breakfast ends upstairs, I'm good.  Adam & I usually brew a pot of coffee (currently we are blessed with Tim Hortons thanks to our home port of Vancouver) and watch an episode of Life, from the Planet Earth series.

The TV situation on ships is abysmal.  CNN, BBC & Headline News confiscate three of the channels, and we currently have ESPN, TCM,TNT, a cartoon sort of channel and TruTV, which are quite special.  Any and all of these stations can go out at a moments notice if the weather is bad, the ship is surrounded by mountains, or the cosmos are out of alignment.  It seems that just as the verdict on Law & Order is about to be announced, the screen goes black and  reads "No Signal".  Oddly enough, it comes back on in time for me to hear the closing theme.  We also have Princess TV, which are basically 6 or so channels filled with safety information, general promotions and other useless broadcasting that is on a continual 24 hour loop.  I never thought I would miss simple things like the Shopping Channel or infomercials, but I do.

So, lesson #1 Michael: Bring lots of DVD's, or even better, fill up an external hard drive to keep luggage light.

We then have breakfast, which this week has been one of three options.  The buffet upstairs actually does a decent breakfast, so we go there a few times a week, we have cereal or yogurt in our cabin, or we have recently taken to making pancakes and omelettes on our flat griddle.  The one bonus of being in Alaska is the access to grocery stores.  I currently have bacon, cream, cheese and egg beaters (thanks Eric) along with pancake mix and syrup.  It makes a huge difference being able to cook for yourself when you're away for this long.  So...

Lesson #2: Bring contraband electronic appliances into your cabin.  Just make sure you hide them for any inspections that may take place.  (Who doesn't have a hot pot, coffee make, popcorn maker, toaster oven or other things in their cabin anyway?)

On a show day (which is often) we usually are free until sound check.  I've been occupying my time recording videos for my niece Emilie, reading and I have also purchased a piano book to get back to playing.  Getting out of the cabin is essential to ones sanity so a mini lesson is to make sure you have a few projects going while you're onboard.  It helps a lot.

Sound check is usually 15-20 minutes long, and is just before dinner.  Princess does give us the pleasure of not doing tech runs on a show day.  Other companies make the cast run the entire show for technical purposes the morning of a show day, and it makes for a really long day.  Once sound check is over, I usually have something small to eat (again, thanks to my food cupboard filled with chips, granola bars and other delicacies) and then begin to get ready for the show.  45 minutes for hair and make-up, (Mike I hope you don't take as long!) and then we have a half hour call backstage to pre-set our costumes, and to get into "show mode".  Usually I'm doing a crossword puzzle, or butting in to help Eric with his.  Two shows later, I'm back home ready to either order room service or make something (again, God bless the person who invented the hot pot) and then perhaps enjoy a libation or two with Adam.

Lesson #3: Enjoy libations.  Find the crew bar.

So that's my day.  I hope it exceeded your expectations and answered and questions you may have had.  "Do I get to sleep in like a teenager?"  You sure do!  "Is the internet connection dial-up slow but twice the price of land charges?"  It sure is!   I know you'll have a blast. 

Just remember to pack your hot pot.

http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/michaelhughes

 

You Can't Always Get What You Want

Oh, it's been a tough day!  First, I went to Wal-mart and both the hummus, and nintendo wii remote attachments I was looking for were out of stock!  I then attempted to purchase an external hard drive at Costco...boom, unavailable.  Aren't these the two stores in the world that have everything you need and more at all times?!!  I guess not.

I was also hoping to have a small break during dry dock to go home, terrorize my niece and new nephew and then head back to the ship to commence the magic that is cruise ship singing.  But no, it appears I will be in the clutches of Princess' talons for the entire 12 days learning one show, no doubt spending more time at Chipotle then is humanly possible.  I do love that Barbacoa flavour, but I don't need 12 days of it!  (Somewhere, my brother is shaking his head is disagreement.)

When you are away from home, things like hummus and electronic devices keep you happy, keep you entertained and focused, and when these things become unavailable on your one shopping day a week, it is heart breaking.  I know, you are all thinking "come on Andrea, let's put it into perspective!"  But with only 4 weeks to go in Alaska, my perspective is this...I have no perspective.  It's too foggy and cold here to see clearly right now, but at the end of the day, I have to be thankful I have a job, and my husband with me. 

I have to keep reminding myself that everything happens for a reason, and so perhaps the hummus was rancid, the wii remotes are defective and laden with lead paint, and that Celine Dion is looking for a fierce petite brunette back up singer in LA from September 20th to the 2nd of October.

It could happen, right?

Head, Shoulders, Knees & Hip

Another quick one today from an uncharacteristically sunny Juneau, AK. 

Tomorrow morning, my Dad will be receiving a new hip.  (Cue all jokes involving how hip my Dad will be.)  I have been through surgery, and I'm still the record holder in my family for longest scar, and most stitches.  (Thank you Ben for adding to the already over 100 I had in my back.)  My Dad was boasting about coming out of his hip replacement with some 3 or 4 incher, and I merely laughed.  Nice try, but not even close.  Anyway, once again my job has taken me away from a family event that I would like to be around for.  

It's not a big secret, and a lot of people have this same feeling, but my Dad does not like hospitals at all, so this will not be easy for him in a lot of ways.  It has been difficult watching my Dad's hip deteriorate so rapidly the past year.  The wedding couldn't have been more perfectly timed last year, as we danced around in both Canada and England, and then he toured the Czech Republic with my Mom.  To see someone whose first love is walking not be able to do that, is beyond painful for all involved.  This surgery has been a long time coming, so we are all glad for it.

For someone who doesn't like hospitals, my Dad had to spend a good chunk of time in one when I had my surgery, and his main job was to keep a cool cloth on my face.  It think it was one of those moments that he felt a tad helpless around the tubes and machines,  so the least he could do was that, and I loved it.  It was as important for him to do that for me as it was for me to have him do it.  

So my thoughts and prayers are with the surgeons, nurses, anesthesiologist & anyone else responsible for my Dad tomorrow.  I pray they all sleep well tonight, and that everything goes as planned tomorrow.  Most importantly, I hope that the cloths I sent to my Dad are waiting for him when he wakes up, cool & ready to make him feel a little more comfortable.

Start stretching Dad, we have a lot of tennis matches to catch up on.  The Tatranki open doesn't win itself!

Love & Marriage

Late July early August is an amazing time amongst my family.  Today for instance, is my in-laws 38th wedding anniversary.  Although my mother-in-law is quite ill, they are celebrating this amazing accomplishment a few days later at a lovely restaurant called The Boathouse, which hopefully will be someplace we will enjoy on our next visit to England!  The traditional gift for such an occasion is Beryl, which I have no idea what that is, so instead I hope they celebrate with a barrel of wine.  Cheers.

My parents will, as of this Sunday, be celebrating their 40th anniversary.  40 is traditionally gifted as ruby, which thankfully I do know what that is.  Now I cannot post what we have purchased for my parents as they will receive their offerings tomorrow, but they will not be disappointed.  My brothers are in charge of it all as I am obviously away currently, so hopefully things run smoothly.  I have faith in them, and in the fact that my Mom has probably prepared more food & excitement then is humanly possible for the guests they are hosting tomorrow.

Just a short post today to wish both sets of our parents a wonderful celebration of love, happiness and laughter.  Adam & I are lucky and blessed to have such great examples of the road to a happy marriage, and we only hope to set the same example as we approach our 15 month celebration next month! 

Which, after researching, I think the traditional gift for is popcorn.  Horray!

Oh, Brother!

July just became all the more exciting for the Dlouhy family of London, ON.  At approximately 2:50pm local time on July 12th, Liam Alexandre Dlouhy entered the world after only a few hours of coaxing.  Now, I wasn't there, but it seems everything went smoothly for both baby and Mom, Christi-Anne.

Emilie has now joined the elite of the elite and is a big sister.  I left her a message at home saying that only a few special people in our family have the honour of being a sister, and I am proud of her for taking on such a big responsibility.  Now, don't tell my brother's this, but I cherish the fact that I am their only sister, and even though I am younger, I feel a duty to protect them and ensure that no matter what, nothing comes between us and the strong relationship we have.  While I may have felt like I had three Dad's growing up, there is a great feeling of security knowing there are two larger males there for you at any time to intimidate those that may steal your lunch money or make fun of the fact you're 4 inches shorter than everyone else.  Having brothers also turned me into some what of a tomboy.  I love me some Barbies, but I do find it easier to have a relationship with the male persuasion vs. the female population.  As Dennis can attest to, I can take a softball of the chest plate without hesitation, and Mike knows that I can bounce off a homemade wrestling mat without a second thought.  I'd like to think some of my girlishness rubbed off on them, but those moments will stay between us.  (I'm no fool, they could still beat me up as well.)

Emilie will soon realize how great it is to be a sibling, and to be a sister.  But there's nothing like having a brother.  And Liam, know this now, that a Dlouhy sister (if I do say so myself) is one of the best things you can be treated to.

Just don't touch her Barbies.

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3

  

I have been on board the ship for just over two weeks now, and already I’ve been tested physically, mentally, and emotionally over and over again.  For those of my readers (all 2 of you I gather) NOT in the entertainment business, let me explain something to catch you up. 

 

 

Entertainers are crazy. 

Some goofy, some clinically.  It’s amazing when you put 16 crazy people together, they all somehow manage to join alliances, balance their crazy and make it all work.  There are times when the scales tip, unfortunately not in your favour, and a crazy person falls off the wagon and tries to bring everyone else down with them.  But there is always one person with their hand firmly on the wheel, merely dragging that poor person along kicking and screaming.  Eventually they will climb back on, and blend in again until the next round of disturbia comes along.  (Thank you Rhianna for that word.  I now know what it means.) 

I had about 38 crazy people in my Sheridan Music Theatre class, and somehow, we really did all manage to make crazy magic together for three solid years.    Yes, the odd person would run astray, myself included and get caught up in craziness, but we all knew where home base was and how safe it was to come back to that and enjoy it.

It’s the crazies that can’t find home base that you need to look out for.  They are pot stirrers.  They are the people that cannot find happiness in themselves, but they try to find it in the miseries of others, tearing people down and reverting to pure evilness to obtain whatever goal they set their sights on at that time.  They are your friends, they are your neighbours, they are the wolf in sheeps clothing.  You cannot reason with crazy, you can only recognize who they are, and go on from there, gritting your teeth, holding your tongue, and realizing that no matter how crazy you think you might be, you are stronger, better and more confident then they are.

I love me some crazy entertainers.  Crazy talent, crazy voice, crazy costumes, but for those of us who are just here for the love of the art, please Crazy, just leave me alone, and let me do my job.

Beyoncé has the kind of crazy I like.  Crazy In Love.  And that’s what I’m focused on.  Us. It’s what keeps me sane.

There's No Place Like Home...

I have had the fortune of traveling to some lovely places on this earth.  Top three for sure are Paris, France Santorini, Greece and Victoria, B.C.  No matter where I've been there is something about landing in Canada, anywhere in Canada that makes me heave a sigh of relief. 
I love traveling, and I especially love many of the stores Canada has yet to adopt, (HELLO, TARGET!)  but after my flight today from L.A. I basically ran to get a poutine, a Tim Hortons coffee, some Life brand items at Shopper's Drug Mart, and some necessary items at La Senza.  (No details here.  Let's keep this G-rated.)  I've heard of comfort food, but sometimes for me it's comfort shopping. 

Tomorrow morning at the glorious hour of 6am (which for Christi-Anne is the third hour of her productive day) I will sign onto the Island Princess, and finally reunite with Adam after almost three months.  It is such a great feeling to know that every second Monday of the month I will step off into Vancouver, a little slice of home, and feel at ease with my surroundings.  While the glaciers and snow capped mountains of Alaska are beautiful, I can't find my favourite face wash at the Skagway pharmacy.  It's the little things that make the time away from home bearable.  For so many, traveling is a lifetime dream come true, but for me, a simple reminder of Canada can literally make me have goosebumps.  I know I've written several blogs about patriotism, but it never dies down for me.  There's something about that leaf and those two red bars that just makes me feel like I'm home no matter where in the world I am.

So once again for me, it's Bon Voyage until December, but no matter where I go, I'm never too far from home.  Now then, who is going to make me some poutine???

Another Day Another Doddler

I have a few pet peeves, but a big one is people being late, or people causing me to be late.  I am good at showing up on time.  I'm not that person who does the "excuse me" past you in a movie theatre when the movie is already ten minutes in, and I am certainly not the obnoxious passenger who halfway through a live show decides the only desirable seat is in the front row of the theatre, disturbing the show.  

There are times however when being late is inevitable.  Still annoying, but unavoidable.  For instance, yesterday the battery in our car died.  (I won't point fingers here, but Tim, when I ask if you left the lights on overnight, before you answer no, make sure the dial is turned to the off position to support your lie.  Thank you.)  Anyway, we took all necessary steps to remedy the situation as quickly as a person in a foreign environment can do, (this included the rental company arriving to boost us, then realizing he forgot the jumper cables.  Thank you Enterprise, another customer satisfied and ready for a refund!) and arrived a half hour late to work.  Let's just say the instructor was not impressed, and spoke to us in a less than condescending tone.  I was peeved.  I stayed silent, took the speech seriously and went on with the day, but was very upset that I was now viewed as a "late-comer".  I'm not, and especially when it's not my fault, or an accident, I don't like to be labeled as such.  

I can't blame the choreographer for being upset.  We wasted his time, or rather Bob from Enterprise wasted his time, but for the record, if you're going to leave the lights on in your car overnight, make sure you have a backup plan, like a number for a cab company, or at least a better excuse then the one we had.  

Now then, where's my bus schedule?

On The Street Where You Live

I witnessed something for the very first time yesterday, and I have to say it was disturbing and amazing at the same time.  

While stopped at a red light near my parents home, en route from picking up the best sushi I've had in London (Conception Sushi on Wellington Rd. check your local yellow pages!) I witnessed two hillbillies beat the tar out of each other on their front lawn while their aged peek-a-poo-chi-jack-russel-teacup-yippy dog ran around them in a panic.  It was quite a sight.  Older man, younger man, punch punch, fall to the ground, followed by woman running out of the house cursing "you F&#)@! deserve that!" 

Am I on COPS?  God I hope not.  I am still hoping my television debut will be on Glee or at least Real Housewives of some county, but it was amazing to witness two adult humans resort to raw violence at 6pm on a busy city street.  I'm assuming one of them took the last helping of turkey and mashed potatoes, because that gets me pretty mad, but really?  Punching another human square in the face?  I swear I saw a tooth fly to the northwest corner and land on the neighbours porch.  I felt a civic duty to call the cops, after my shrimp tempura roll.  I kid, I called when I got home because I was hoping no kids were involved, and maybe that dog needed a therapist after the stress of it all.  I have seen other "fights".  I have two older brothers and we got in our share of scraps, and attending a high school with a rough reputation brought about a few shoving matches between students, but I wasn't expecting a front row ticket to yokel UFC on Adelaide St.  I'm still shocked that in this world, this happens on a pretty regular basis, just down the street from our comfortable, love and respect filled homes.  

It certainly makes me think twice about things.  Like, is turkey really worth that?  Should I get a small dog or is that too stressful?

Oh, and the shrimp tempura was amazing.  Almost as good as Cabo San Lucas.  Seriously Londoners, check it out.

My Kind of Town...

Chicago is.

This weekend I had a whirlwind adventure in the windy city, Chicago, IL.  My dear friend and bridesmaid Ioana moved there over five years ago after marrying her husband John, and this visit has been promised since then.  I owed them a visit, and decided to drag my one brother Mike along for the ride.

We started off our 7.5 hour drive from London and after an unnecessary border delay (and actually meeting my first pleasant US customs official) we were en route to Chi-town.  Now, I had a lot of firsts this weekend and one was walking through the doors of a Big Boy restaurant.  We stopped in Michigan just before the Indiana border to dull our hunger pains.  My brother and I always have to laugh that the minute you cross into the states from any angle, all vowel pronunciation changes.  Yes, I know, we Canadians have our "aboots" and "sowrees" but can a gateway really be the cause of such a drastic change?  "Hiya hahn, welcome tah Big Boy. You wanna buuth?"  We sure did.  Anyway, we had to laugh.

With the help of Randy, our GPS guide, an empty Skyway and a few toll booths, we found Ioana & John's place on the edge of the city.  The skyline greeted us with a wink, and there we were.  It was great.  In short, I got to see many historic sites like Wrigley Field, (Cubs came from behind to win 4-3) Buckingham Fountain, (as featured in the opening credits of Married With Children) great shops, and many gorgeous buildings (the view from the top of the Hancock building rivals the Empire State Building).  But one memory truly sticks out.  Enjoy.

So, our Saturday night started with an amazing dinner at ... (a mexican place that I cannot remember the name of...this will be updated with the name once I speak with Ioana) and then off we went to The Second City!  The first great thing was a talented comedienne that I worked with on the NCL Gem was in the cast, and the second thing was Ioana running over with a defaced ticket explaining that Kevin James of King of Queens "fame" was there!  She met him, professed her undying fandome and got his autograph.  Whilst she is explaining this chance encounter, who brushes past me to take his seat but the one and only Vince Vaughn.  I did the old act natural and then freak out when he is past  me so not to cause a scene.  Chicagoans are courteous, and let Mr. Vaughn enjoy his night, sending the occasional drink that remained untouched and requesting photos which he politely declined.  Now here's the kicker.  My lovely friend Ioana is a school teacher, and during the 11 o'clock show had a hard time keeping her peepers open, so when the free improv session after the show came up, she was beat, and requested we skip the final skit.  So, we left, went home, and I wrote my friend Allison a congratulations email closing with a PS. Did you know Vince Vaughn was in the audience?  This was her response back to me...

Hi! Oh my god, I wish you would've stuck around. Vince, Kevin James, Faizon Love, and Greg Olsen, this football player came backstage to meet us, and we convinced them all to play the set with us. It was a super fun set & the audience went insane. Thanks for your message!

Needless to say, the "I can't believe we got to see Vince Vaughn and others do improv...oh, I guess not" jokes lasted the rest of the trip.  Who knows, maybe I'll bump into one of them again and we'll be able to do our own one act in the grocery aisle.  Then it won't seem like such a loss.

My point is...I had a great time in an amazing city, Vince or no Vince.  It was my first, but certainly not my last visit to Chicago, and it truly is a toddelin' town.  Whatever that means.

Thanks Ioana & John.  Good times.