The Bitch is Back: Safe At Home

Friday February 2 into Saturday February 3

The Barter theatre in Abingdon, VA is one of the oldest regional theatres in the country, and among the most famous tales from its quirky history is the story of how it got its name. When the theatre was started during the Depression, the founder decided to allow his patrons to barter food, liquor and even livestock in exchange for admission. I did not have an audition in Abingdon – the folks there, in the process of rehearsing two shows at once, were understandably too bogged down to squeeze me in – but I was going there to check out the theatre and see my good friend from Riverside days, Mary Lucy Bivins (who also happens to be the Associate Artistic Director) in the first preview of her new show.

I had been holding out a small hope that some time might be found during the day on Friday for me to come in and at least meet the casting director, or even just to have a meal with Mary Lucy, but it was not to be. While they were getting ready to open the new play THE QUILTMAKER this weekend, they were also in rehearsals for the next show, Noel Coward’s BLITHE SPIRIT. The Barter is a repertory company. Eventually, the runs of THE QUILTMAKER and BLITHE SPIRIT will coincide; they will share the stage, alternating performances from night to night.

Left with nothing to do on a day that was quite miserable with cold grey overcast skies and an unpleasant mixture of rain and snow, I decided to have a drive around town to explore a bit after checking out of my hotel room.

Abingdon’s historic district is a very pretty stretch of quaint Americana, the crown jewel of which is the theatre. The surprisingly large outlying areas boast the regular array of strip malls. I nipped into the Starving Artist Café for lunch and had a delicious sandwich, then went to the local movie house to see PAN’S LABYRINTH. I enjoyed the interplay between fantasy and “reality” and the imagery used to tell the story was quite beautiful. Throughout the movie, however, I felt antsy…shouldn’t I have found something more productive to do with my time while I was still on the road? Perhaps. Part of me had toyed with the idea of going over to the theatre and volunteering for the day. Surely, with two plays in production they could use a set of skilled hands. But I dismissed that idea because I thought it would be silly to do that (fear speaking? Maybe). I was alone at the end of my journey in a strange place with nowhere comfortable to be until later that night. The movie provided a decent distraction.

Afterwards I went over to a local coffee shop that had WiFi and checked my email before having a long conversation with my friend from college/big sister Kay Daly.

Heading over to the theatre, I stopped to get gas and discovered that the door to my gas tank had frozen shut! With no one else around to help, I couldn’t pull the lever to release it (which was under the driver’s seat) and push on the little door at the same time to help break the ice, so I drove to the theatre on the dregs of my gas.

Made it there just in time for the curtain. I sat next to Duke, Mary Lucy’s partner, who I hadn’t seen in years and who had just driven up that day from Charlotte, NC. He looked great and is seriously one of the nicest human beings on the planet.

The show was wonderful! Mary Lucy played the foul-mouthed grandmother of an Appalachian family, and she along with the rest of the cast deftly maneuvered the play’s turn-on-a-dime shifts from comedy to drama. It is always so hilarious to me to hear Mary Lucy swear onstage, since it is so anathema to her in normal life. She would regularly use the terms shazbut! and shootfire! instead of the other “sh” word. In addition to her incredible comic timing, MLB is a powerful dramatic actress as well, and this role offered her an opportunity to show off both aspects of her artist.

When the show was over, Duke helped me get my gas tank door open before we headed to the Barter’s café to grab some coffee with MLB when she was done getting notes. Eventually Mary Lucy arrived and we had a frantically quick conversation before closing down the place. We lingered as long as possible in the parking lot in the freezing cold, hating that our time together had to be so short on this visit. At length, we said our warm goodbyes in the chilly air and went our separate ways.

I filled up the gas tank and Maxwell’s Silver Hammer and I began our final journey together – the nine hour voyage home to New York City. It was midnight when I got on the highway.

Initially, I had planned to drive for about three hours, then sleep briefly before getting up to continue the trip. But once I was driving, spurred on by the powerful urge to be home, I kept challenging myself to go a little further, and eventually just made the decision to drive through the night.

I once again had beautiful nighttime views of the mountains lit up by the large glowing moon, and as I admired one such view I suddenly noticed that the mountain I was looking at had seemed to simply vanish into the night. I shortly discovered the reason for this effect, as I plowed headlong into a blizzard. The interstate was suddenly covered in snow and my visibility went down to nil. Still, Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, trusty steed, didn’t miss a step and guided me safely through this eerie experience.

The rest of the night continued without incident. From Virginia I passed into West Virginia, then Maryland, which became Philadelphia for what seemed like forever before New Jersey (where, driving East, the sun began to rise before me, filling the sky with a spectacular kaleidoscope of colors) and finally, crossing the lordly Hudson on the majestic George Washington Bridge just after 8 o’clock in the morning, I found myself home at last in Manhattan!

With the manic energy of the overexhausted, I had a very productive day. After hurriedly transferring his contents to my apartment, I bid farewell to Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, noting with indignation that the clerk at Alamo had described the car as a “grey” Toyota Corolla on my intake ticket. Grey. How dare you, Philistine! Grey. There is no magic left in the world.

I then had a cathartic trip to Whole Foods for groceries, and returned home where I spent the day cleaning my apartment, unpacking my bags and doing a few administrative organizational duties on my life.

I retrieved Faneuil (pronounced: Fanny), my original cello, from Peter Lewy’s apartment, and had a brief session introducing her to her new brother Homer, playing back and forth on each one and testing the quality of the sound. I will continue to experiment with each of them and am so excited by the presence of two cellos in my apartment.

And I spent oodles of quality time with my two cats, Lulu (AKA The Down and Dirty Diva, AKA Felein Sally Bowles, AKA Mona Lulu, AKA Aida, AKA Barbarella, AKA Droolcilla) and Carter, who were alternately relieved angry chastising and joyful at having me back.

It truly was wonderful to be home and I felt a huge sense of accomplishment at finally having completed the trip. I relaxed in the evening, ordered in pizza from a local spot and, eventually, slept.

And that, dear bitches, concludes the Tale of the Great Salty Roadtrip of ’07. Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me. My heartfelt love and gratitude goes out to all of you who have shown your support throughout this life altering endeavor.

But this salty, salty bitch is not finished having his say – there are many more Tales on the pursuit of La Vie Boheme to be told and the Salty Blog is far from done. Please continue to check in here, dear bitches, for your regular fix of salt and bitchery.