Audition Log 2/11/11 - The Opposite End of the Spectrum

Let me first say Congratulations to Egypt! You inspire and remind us all that not only do the people still have a voice, but that voice is stronger than any weapon.

Today's audition log is a bit of a downer, but with amazing things like Egypt's liberation happening in the world, how can one be sad?

Today's audition was for Sacramento Music Circus. I've been to Sacramento Music Circus auditions a few times already. In Sacramento, mind you, but I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what was going to happen; once I made it to the final round of cuts (with West Side Story choreography, no less), another I was cut immediately. In my mind Sacramento auditions went like this: we were going to sign in, there was going to be tons of people, we would all do a ballet combo then cuts were to be made, then a jazz combo, then more cuts, then perhaps another jazz combo or a tap combo or something specific to a particular show they were doing (this year they had Anything Goes so I was pretty sure they were going to have a tap combo), then more cuts, then maybe another round of dance, then they would thank everyone and ask a few people to sing. In my experience, that's how Sacramento Music Circus auditions went.

This was nothing like that. At all.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

I had heeded my own advice and taken a shower/shaved the night before, though I almost forgot. When I woke up in the morning, I was not surprised to find out once more that there was no hot water. So, I've come to the conclusion that the night before is my preparation time.

Speaking of, I prepared all of my music/headshot/resume stuff the day before the audition, not the night; I even packed my bag at a reasonable time. This saved me from having to stay up all night getting it ready. Er go, I got to sleep at a decent hour.

Sleep was, however, stilted (if not interrupted) by the odor of the kitchen wafting into my room. One of my roommates had made what was probably a delicious garlic mashed potato/vegetable medley dinner (they're really good cooks). Sometimes, though, they don't clean up right away (If you're my roommate and you're reading this, I'm sorry but it's true! Sometimes I'm even culpable) This odor was so strong that I could smell it in my room. I think that, plus the very early time of sleep, led me to lay there for awhile without actually achieving ReM. I don't know how this would be prevented, I surely can't ask my roommates to not cook on nights before I have auditions, but it's something to point out.

THE MORNING

I woke up at 6 am. The audition was at 10, I wanted to get there at 8, so I decided to wake up at 6. It wasn't hard, though. I was quite refreshed and raring to go when the alarm went off.

I had some plain oatmeal and added some raw sugar plus some chai tea with a little raw sugar in it, as well. This is a fine breakfast meal for me, especially during mornings when my nervousness could lead my stomach to jump in a million directions. The chai, however, did upset me for a good twenty. This was before I even left the place, and I feel it only irked my system because I had too much too fast, but nevertheless I think I'm going to portion the amount of non-water beverages for next time. Also, I was feeling a little hungry at around audition time, so I think I'm going to pack some protein bars, as well. Better safe than...not, I guess.

I like to take my time in the mornings. I think mornings are my favorite time of day; just you and a cup of tea or coffee, peaceful, its your time before the business of the day controls it. That being said, I don't like to rush them. I feel if you rush your mornings your whole day is going to feel rushed; the opposite is also the case. But, I think I might have had TOO much time this morning. I was just sitting there...after finishing all my morning routines. I guess too much time is better than none at all. I'll stick with this audition routine for awhile. See how it goes.

THE COMMUTE

No problems on the subway. Got there with enough time to catch the train I wanted to take. Probably 'cause I had so much time before.

This audition was held at Chelsea Studios, which is obviously in Chelsea. It took a little longer to get to than the previous audition (since that was in midtown), but not by much. It was still roughly 30 minutes.

After getting off the subway, I still had a few of blocks left to go. Of course I walked (what else was I supposed to do?) but I like walking. The weather was especially nice and brisk, so it wasn't a hassle at all. A joy, even.

My mood was up and down all morning, so I decided to listen to some uptempo, dance music. And what better dance music than Michael Jackson; after the last glee episode, I was really into P.Y.T. (go ahead, commence with the judging stares. ... Okay, are we done? Can we get back to the story?). Didn't have that song for reason, though, so I put "Rock With You," which is perhaps my favorite all-time MJ song. And it did the trick. I was bopping and grooving down the street, my mood changed from nervous and reticent to confident and energetic. This is a no-brainer but lesson learned: always have good, upbeat music handy at an audition.

THE PRE-AUDITION

The audition was on the sixth floor, so I hit the elevator button and rode up. I rode up with a gentleman who went to the second floor and an architecture building. It's always nice to see other things and people in a building besides acting; it gives perspective.

The Chelsea Studios had a cleaner, open quality to it than the other studio (called the Nola Studios). Not to say the Nola Studios were dirty, but they felt very old-timey whereas the Chelsea Studios were almost space-agey (I'm using very precise dictionary-defined terms; you're welcome). The Nola Studios listed their studios on a chalk-board; the Chelsea had every room nicely labeled and an attendant to help with whatever you needed. And don't get me started on Chelsea's weird, contemporary desk...thing. Very cool, but I don't know how practical it is.

The holding area for the audition was four doors to the left of where I entered from (as told to me by the very helpful attendant working there). It was similar to the Nola studio except a little bit bigger. Not large, in my estimation, but large-ish. Medium large, if you'll take my very scientific measurements. Again, it had chairs lining three of the walls and two rows of chairs in the middle. It was a dance room dolled up to look like a waiting room. The time was only 8, but I still felt that, like last time, a fury of people were going to be there already.

1 person was there before me. Again, just like last time, the imagined crowd was not so much.

I feel this has more to do with the notion of equity versus non-equity. Equity can just show up whenever and they have to be seen; non-eq have to show up early to sign-in and even then they might not be seen that day. Again, it didn't matter that I was there early; I wanted to warm up.

The men's dressing room was a floor below us, so I took the stairs. Boy oh boy, these babies were steep! It felt a lot like Vertigo, save for the beautiful Kim Novak.

This men's dressing room was, in fact, a dressing room. Yes, it was still a supply closet, sink and all (male dancers never get any respect...), but it was bigger with a wall length bench to sit down and mirrors on either. Definitely more than one person could change in there, though I had the luxury of dressing by myself. Which is good; I still have this odd thing about showing my junk to strangers. Guess it has to do with my childhood or something.

When I got back about ten minutes later the room had filled to... 1 guy. There was still only 1 guy there. Again, I was fine with that since I didn't want to lose my spot on the sign-up sheet. Just to make sure, I asked him if there was one to be signed. He replied that there wasn't a sheet yet. Oh. But... doesn't somebody usually do that? Slap a piece of scratch paper on the table and scribble "unofficial non-equity list"? Should that someone be me? Uh...

I decided to leave well-enough alone, feeling that when it does show up I'll still retain my second place status, and even if I didn't get #2 I'd still be seen. Right?

I continued my warm ups, this time listening to more MJ and some glee tunes to pump me up (Round 2 of stares and glares may commence in 3, 2, 1...). I was going full out, but as more and more men came into the room (again, just like last audition, it was strictly an all-male call; the women went yesterday) less and less room was available to me (more science lessons!). Also, as more and more men came in, more and more did my confidence level drop. Not to the point of depression and the need for escape, but enough to notice the correlation between people in the room and the acid levels in my stomach. I saw my friend Mario there, which was a big boost of confidence. We said hugged, chatted for a tiny bit, and then he went to prepare himself as I continued to warmup.

Still more and more men came in, and it wasn't even 9:30 yet. Nobody noticed me; no imaginary snickers or looks. The crowd was too boisterous to see each other to notice me. They were, however, very loud. The calm, quiet dance room had exploded into a non-alcoholic bar/lounge. I turned up my headphones louder, but to no avail.

NINE-THIRTY

At thirty minutes till the audition, a man with a glasses and a handlebar mustache came into the room. He quieted us down and then, in a very booming, authoritative tone announced the steps to sign up. He never announced his name or title (I do plan on going to the site to get it, if possible) but I imagine he was the production coordinator and/or stage manager. Unlike the first production coordinator I encountered (who was very friendly to the point of jovial), this man was authoritative to the point of (but never actually reaching) rudeness. While at first it caught me off guard (if there was any large company I thought I understood, it was Sacramento Music Circus), I didn't think anything of it. He's got to command all these people while keeping everything on time. And, in all honesty, this was what I was expecting when coming to New York.

The production coordinator, as I shall call him for lack of a better title or name, pulled out a piece of paper and announced this was the official non-equity sign up sheet. He also said that the production team (Glen Casalle, artistic director; Mary West, associate choreographer; Eric Johnston at piano; and a few other names I didn't get, including the choreographer) might not see non-equity today; he just wasn't sure at this time.

Excuse me? You're not going to see non-equity? But... this is a dance call; you don't have to go individually. Don't we all go in together?

Apparently not. Seems that, with the number of attendees this high and the size of the room so small (though I never actually got to see inside that room, yet imagined it looked similar to the one I was in), they were going to bring people in as groups of 21, so that they could audition in groups of threes if you were wondering about the odd number of people in a group (why not 20?). If you weren't wondering, read on.

There were about 85+ equity people who attended (some who signed up earlier, some who just showed up right then and there), so there were a few groups who were going to go. I assumed the prod. team was going to teach the combo, see the combo, then make some decisions, then bring the second group in, teach the combo, see the combo, then make some decisions, rinse, repeat. This meant that it may have been awhile before I would even be seen (unlike last time, where we all went). The prod. coordinator just didn't know right off the bat. He did have us sign in, however, in case we were seen.

Remember that unofficial non-equity sign-in sheet that I talked about earlier? The one that wasn't there? The one where I thought I should start it but thought not to, just in case we "weren't supposed to" (I read that on a breakdown once).

Yeah, that thing would've come in handy right around now.

The non-equity people rushed the table. I went, then double-backed for a pen, and by the time I got to sign my name on the sheet I was the last in line. Wait, I think there were a few people behind me. I was the almost last in line. Eh, that doesn't have the same kick as before. I was the ABSOLUTE LAST in line! Now we're cooking...

Granted, there were 15 or so on the list, but it was still a little disheartening to come so early yet sign up so late. But, what could we do? (Note: please read in a pseudo-effeminate tone) "Um, please form a line in terms of when you got here, that is if you can remember who was immediately before you and immediately after. Honestly please, people!" (Continue as you were. Thank you.) No, we couldn't do that. So, I sat down to wait and learned for next time.

The prod. coordinator then named off the equity members who signed up ahead of time. After their name was called, each member announced their presence and took two forms from the table: a yellow form that was to be split in two and seems to be standard for equity auditions and a white form that was specific to the Music Circus auditions. It was a lot like a field trip.

For those equity members who didn't sign up ahead of time, there was a line forming to the left of the room. The prod. coordinator got through everyone on his list, he asked those in the aforementioned line to come down, grab the aforementioned forms, and fill them out, as aforementioned. Again, a lot like a field trip.

Those of us who weren't equity waited.

The prod. coordinator asked for the first 21 people's forms, headshots, and résumés. He then compiled them and left for the adjacent dancing room right across the hall.

Those of us who weren't equity waited.

THE AUDITION

At around 10:00, the prod. coordinator came into the room and announced that they would not be seeing non-equity today.

There was no audition. For me, at least.

He then said that usually out-of-town theaters who come to New York hire non-equity locally, which got me to think that maybe I need to start making a yearly trip back home right around the Music Circus' Sacramento auditions. You know, to see the family. The prod. coordinator also said that if non-equity wanted to they could drop off their headshots and résumés with him and advised us to follow up with a postcard. He even showed us a piece of paper with the address of the company on it so we may direct our mail in a similar direction. He told us that all companies had that piece of paper and to always look for it and follow up. While I lapped up his advice like an eager puppy for nourishment, I could tell that not all the non-equity weren't as fresh off the bus as I was and probably already knew. I tried to give my headshot and résumé to him personally, or to even find out his name, but he was busy, and I'm not the type to barge in. Not yet, at least.

I packed my bags and left before the first group even got in.

Am I disappointed? Yeah, sure, why not? It's hard to wait around and not get seen.

Am I down? Sad? Hell no! I'm actually feeling pretty good. Not as ecstatic as my first audition, but confident. Here's why:

1) I knew this was going to happen, sooner or later. So, let it happen now. That way, it'll dull the blow next time it happens, and the time after that, and the time after that. I know what I got myself into. I'm happy there's no more anticipation; just experience.

2) I showed up. I did my job. I could've stayed in bed, slept until noon. But I didn't. I showed up, I warmed up, and I was prepared. If a company doesn't see me, so what? It's their loss. I held up my end of the bargain. They say that 80% of success is just showing up. If that's true, then I have an 80% success rate! And that's pretty damn good.

Audition Log 2/8/11 - The First One (Part 2)

Okay. Where were we?

That's right. Singing.

THE SINGING AUDITION

Now, singing is not my strong suit. I have taken extraordinary lessons in the past couple of years, lessons that have turned my voice around and made me able to sing, but I still don't identify as a singer. I'm a dancer, first and foremost, an actor second, a writer, an illustrator, a jellyfish, and THEN a singer. I thought we MIGHT sing, like a call back thing. But they wanted to hear us all. Crap.

So, remember that unofficial/official list I told you about earlier? That's usually, to my estimation, the order of how you're going to be seen for open calls (unless of course it's an eq/non-eq thing, but that's a whole 'nother beast). Well... apparently they mixed up our photos or something or didn't have the list, so they kinda just made a pile, drew 5 names from it, and called those to sing. I had written myself down on the list as #7, but through the magic of mistakes I turned out to be #4! Which didn't leave a lot of room for warming up, but also left almost no room to freak out about it. I'll take what I can get.

I quickly changed into my singing attire, which consisted of a maroon collared shirt that is 100% polyester so I can throw it in my bag and it won't get wrinkled (which is always a good thing when traveling), a white t-shirt underneath, jeans rolled up at the bottom, and converse with a crossword pattern (the last two of which so as to evoke a 50s/60s vibe, the former just to be presentable). A fine combination for a show such as this, if I do say so myself.

Again, there was no dressing room save for a supply closet and the restroom on that floor was closed. So, the only place to dress was a teeny tiny restroom on the floor below. Had two stalls but only enough room to support one. And EVERYONE wanted in to change. Next time, perhaps I will wear something that I can easily change into/out of in public so as to avoid this mess.

Once all five of us were changed and ready, Chris (the "production manager/coordinator") sat us down in order outside of the studio where we danced. It has now done a Transformers on us and has become a robot--I mean, a singing studio. I waited patiently and excitedly for my turn. Just three. No big deal, right?

Flipped through my book and made some small talk with a guy beside me. Normally I don't like to speak to other actors before or during an audition because that's time I can use to focus, but I felt the momentary conversation would be just distraction enough to calm my nerves.

You could dully hear the singers sing, which I don't know how I felt about that. On one hand, it's good to hear what's going on, figure out how the room is. On the other, no it's not! Some of these cats are good! (Duh, Jimmy...) Well, of course I heard greatness all around. But what I also heard was a second song.

A second song, excuse me? I believe you're mistaken. The breakdown said only one song. 16 bars, in fact.

Of course, I hadn't gotten my facts mixed up. They just asked. But I had planned for this eventuality. I had about five other songs I could sing at the drop of the hat, and I searched for the one I would if given the opportunity. And I was pretty sure I was going to since everyone in front of me sang twice. I had already accepted it as fact.

The third person finished, exited, and left the door open for me.

Okay. Here we go. My first ever singing audition in New York.

I opened up to that same studio where we danced. Unlike the dance call where the room was situated horizontally, the singing auditions had it vertically, with a table about two-thirds from the door in the center and three people (the producer, the choreographer, and the associate choreographer, in that order from L to R) seated behind it. The piano had come away from the wall and was beveled so that the music director's back was facing the door. When I sang, he was behind me. Pretty standard layout.

I opened the door and smiled, seeing if they were waiting for me. They weren't; they were busy discussing and looking over headshots (which was fine). I headed for the piano where the music director was and whispered hello. I gave him my music, which was in a binder instead of folded and taped (which is a point of discussion among some people; I like a binder and since it's only 16 bars the music director/accompanist/whoever is playing the piano doesn't have to turn pages anyway, which is the main reason for taping your sheets accordion fashion) and went over my music. Again, pretty standard fare.

I sang "(It's) Hairspray" from the show I was auditioning for. I had never sung it before, but I wasn't comfortable with my usual Rock song ("Cry for Me" from Jersey Boys) just yet, so I chose this one because, while it was a little low in my range, it still sounded high and powerful at the end. And, if nothing else, I could act my way out of it.

After I was done talking to the music director, I went out and stood in the center closer to the piano than the table, a place where I felt was generally the place they wanted us to stand. I stood there a moment and waited for them to finish discussing, smiling all the way. Once they did, the choreographer asked what I was going to sing. "Actually, I'm going to sing '(It's) Hairspray' from this very show, Hairspray," I said. "Wonderful choice." or "Perfect song." said the choreographer; I don't quite remember which one it was, it was just a good sign.

The music director gave me my (very!) short intro and off I went. I was singing.

I misplaced the first part of the first note of the song, but quickly fixed it. My voice sounded good and strong, powerful. I even effortless hit my highest note (which was a G, not really all that high but one that can devastate a guy who's didn't a chance to warm up save for dancing and who's auditioning), something I initially didn't think I was going to do when I prepared for it. And then I ended strong. Acted it well enough, too; I also chose this song because it was that (pardon the term) corny lothario thing that I enjoy mocking/playing. You know, all cheese and smiles. I love that! So I knew I wasn't going to have to force some circumstance. It was just going to be me. Only thing I didn't so much like about my audition was that I did a lot of random musical theatre arms that had nothing to do with anything. But then again, it is a presentational kind of song.

After I finished, the choreographer smiled and, "What? You're not gonna scat?" I'm sorry, they scat? I got this sheet music yesterday. There is scatting in the cd, but none on the sheet music. I sang what was directly on the sheet music (though I switched one phrase "I'm Corny Collins" with "forget the milkman" because I wasn't really going out for Corny). So I improved a short scat and made the team behind the table laugh and smile. I may sing this in the future, so I think I'll add the scat in.

Now for your second song. You ready, Jimmy?

"Thanks Jimmy. That's all we need from you."

"O--okay. Thanks. Thank you."

I smiled, thanked the music director as I took my binder, and left.

They didn't want a second song from me. It was the first weird moment of doubt I had since coming to the audition. They had asked everyone else to sing twice, why not me? Some of these kids were GOOD, so is that why not me? Was I not good enough?

I chalked it up to what they said. That was really all they needed. I left it behind for the most part.

POST AUDITION

I went back into the holding area, chatted with another of guy who had already sung (after an audition I feel fine with chatting to ease the stress of waiting. Just as long as it's not with someone who's about to audition). He didn't think he did so well so I told him that they didn't ask me to sing twice. He replied that it was probably because they liked me so much they didn't need to hear me again, which I understood but didn't whole-heartily agree. I asked the guy who went after me if he sang twice. He said he only sang once, but joked that since it was a long song it probably made up for two. I then sat and waited to hear if I was going to be called back.

How this team worked was they would see 5 people, confer among themselves afterwards about who they wanted to callback, and then those 5 would know on the spot whether they were called back for tomorrow or not.

So, after a good five-ten minutes, Chris asked the five of us to come outside into the hall to hear who was going to be called back for tomorrow.

He named three names. I wasn't one of them.

I thanked Chris, packed up my stuff, and left the theatre.

I think I felt I should be bummed, maybe even tried to at first, but it just wasn't in me. I honestly do not think not being called back had any reflection on me. For one, I had a kick-ass audition. I danced extremely well, I sung well (or at least well enough), and I showed them who I was and what I was all about. Secondly, there's not a part for me in Hairspray. If it was another show I'd have my role highlighted and circled, itching to play it, but there's not much but ensemble in this show for me. And that's great! I'd love to be in the back and just dance, especially with this show.

So, they didn't call me back for Link or Seaweed or Tracy? Who cares! I'm not right for those parts and, more importantly, I felt incredibly good about my audition. My first audition here. What better reward is there than that?

The Step with the Steps

Getting up at 8 am (when previously for a month I've gotten up at noon), waking my roommate up, getting a U-Haul in Harlem, driving through Manhattan (again!), picking up a mattress and box-spring (and rolling frame!) finally, driving through Central Park, moving a mattress into our place, getting said mattress in our small elevator, getting a ticket just as we were about to move the U-Haul out of the way of a BROKEN (!) fire hydrant, Skyping with Mom with the first time, seeing how excited she was as I show her that my window looks out onto another window, making perhaps the best Star Wars video ever for my dad's birthday, Skyping and singing my own acoustic guitar version of "Happy Birthday" for my dad, going to Target in the Bronx with roomie to pick up bedsheets for new bed, picking up an awesome plaid button-up too, picking up a few nifty household objects (like a fan) as well, eating at Dave & Buster's with Jen and Cindy, missing out on the D&B arcade games as we race across town to make Inception in IMAX, missing Inception in IMAX since it was sold out, realizing that movies sell out here (and elsewhere apparently; not Fairfield, I'll tell you that!), vowing to ALWAYS use Fandango as we race up Third Ave. while trying to buy tickets for a non-IMAX but still exciting Inception, snagging a cab to reach the theatre in time, being a little afraid for our lives as the cab races up Third Ave. to reach the theatre in time, reaching the theatre in time, buying tickets for 10:20, INCEPTION!!!, knowing all the trials today were well worth seeing that movie tonight, taking three subway trains to reach our home, and finally...

...assembling a bed so that this room, apartment, and town might feel just a bit more like home.

Good. Bad.

Up. Down.

Back. Forth.

It's been a day.

Goodnight.

The Step with the Bed

Today I did something I thought I never, ever, was going to do in New York.

I drove a car.

More so, a uhaul. Not a big one; a car wagon. But I drove it, nonetheless. Through Midtown, even.

I have been sleeping on our couch for almost a month now (has it almost been a month?). I was going to get a bed eventually, but every time I got a day off I didn't want to waste it doing something benign and dull as looking for something to sleep in; I wanted to live! And since one of my roommates didn't have a bed either, it seemed okay.

That is, until she got one.

Since that slumber party was over, I decided to grab a bed myself. Went online to IKEA, Sears, even discount mattresses. All were too confusing or expensive or confusing and expensive. I just couldn't get a decent mattress for a relatively low price.

So I went to the next best thing: Craigslist. And within a matter of minutes I found two great deals. The one I pounced on was a full size Sealy Posturepedic mattress and boxspring in great condition for only $200. Perfect! Emailed him, told him I was coming for it on Friday, and what was done was done.

Well... not quite.

See, my roommates may have had to pay more for a bed, but theirs were delivered. Mine: not so much. I realized after that I still needed to get the mattress from there to here, and apparently Craigslist frowns on shipping. So... nothing to do but rent a uhaul and go for it!

If my blood boils and all my joints tense up whenever I drive through San Francisco in a small car, how was I going to drive through New York City in a uhaul?

My roommate Emily offered to help me move the mattress and boxspring. We were at different places in the morning, so when I went to pick up the uhaul she was already there waiting for me.

I went into the tiny uhaul to find the tiny uhaul office and an even tinier uhaul man. He wasn't small in size, mind you, just in mind. I reserved the cargo van at 2pm for 4 hours. When I met the man, the first thing out of his mouth was, "I close at six."

Great, good to meet you, too.

That's all he cared to inform me of. He closed at six, and if I don't bring it in by then I have to bring it in tomorrow. Yes, sir, I understand the concept that one day precedes the next. Perhaps you don't realize that 2 + 4 = 6, as in 6 pm. I rented the van for four hours, all the while preparing to return in back at six. And, honestly, how long was it going to take to get a mattress?

Long, apparently.

I got in, took perhaps too long to adjust ALL the mirrors, and started the van. And waited to go. And waited so more. And perhaps there was more waiting.

But after, I finally went. I was feeling confident, brave, in control of my own destiny. I was driving through New York City!

Correction: I was sitting in traffic through New York City.

All I had to do was go to 2nd Ave. and 47th. Problem was, I was on 36th and 10th Ave. Tenth. I chose to fire down one street, pass through each avenue, then come up to 47th. Yet, apparently the street I chose to "fire down" was more of a "simmer where you are" sort of street. Sad to say, but it took awhile.

Tight streets, stupid pedestrians (always walking! ALWAYS with the walking!), and several car honks later, we got there. We arrived! And with a lovely parking space right outside. But where was outside? I knew the cross streets, but he never did give me his actual address. He didn't even give me his number! All I had to go by was the cross streets, his name, and that he called it the elevator building (I'm sorry, what do you mean? Is there an elevator on the outside? Is it just one big elevator? Or do you not know that other buildings in New York have elevators. Hell, MY building has an elevator!). I did know this in advance, but he confirmed through email that I could pick it up on Friday. And it was Friday, and I wanted a bed.

So, my plan was to go to the buildings on the cross streets and see if the guy lived there. Problem was, it could be ANY of those buildings, either way. There were a lot of "elevator buildings". Unwary of the task but knew it had to be completed, I picked the closest building to us and went in.

AND IT WAS IT! BOOM!

Seriously. The first building I went into was this famed elevator building I heard so much about. I talked to the lobby attendant, told him I was here to pick up a bed, and he called up. Just like that. Just as if he was expecting me. Just as if I was expecting him.

I've made it. I drove through town, found the right building, and now am going to finally have a bed to sleep on! So...where's the bed? Hell, where's the guy I'm supposed to pick it up from?

Wasn't there. Attendant called twice and no answer. He even let us up to the floor to knock on his apartment. No luck. Had we really been all this way, taking such a great journey, to only be denied our sweet treasure in the end?

Apparently so.

I left him a note at the desk, and I offered to buy my roommate lunch for helping me with my phantom bed. We went to this little place called the Manchester Pub. It was small and a little smelly; just like a English pub ought to be. And the peppered-burger was simply divine. Divine? Seriously, Jimmy-typing-this? Seriously, Jimmy-reading-this.

As we went back to the van, we checked in one last time to see if maybe, by some stroke of luck, he had come back! But, no stroke of luck. Not even a faint wave. He wasn't there.

I drove the van through 5th Ave., right next to Macy's, and back to the garage. We hoofed it to the subway, thankful that we didn't have drive through that some more.

Do I despair that I didn't get my mattress? Somewhat. But what I'm more excited and proud for is the notion that I did the impossible today: I drove through New York! I tamed the beast and lived to tell the tale. What did it costs me? $40 dollars and lunch with a friend? Small price for a big victory.

P.S. After some more detailed conversations with this bed guy, I think I'm going to try this all again on Sunday. But this time, I'll be ready.