I Missed the Bus

It happened again. I missed the bus. I knew when the bus was leaving. My e-ticket clearly said which corner to be at, to be there 15 minutes, and to have my reservation number in hand. Somehow I found myself running to the wrong corner hoping the bus was running late, only to find an empty sidewalk devoid of fellow travelers and no sign of the Megabus. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be? Perhaps God was keeping me from some hidden dangers in North Central PA or teaching me a lesson about following directions. Or maybe I am just late everywhere I go? Yesterday, it was my intention to visit my former castmates at the Millbrook Playhouse to check out their current production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Instead, I spent most of the day in my room watching movies. Perhaps my current movie-binge has turned into a real addiction, trapping in my house and separating me from human contact. I'm going to go see a movie tonight (with a friend, in a theater!). This could be a real problem. So, friends and family at the Millbrook Playhouse, I apologize I teased you with a surprise visit. Looks like we will have to wait until you all return to New York or I return next summer for more work. My first missed Megabus experience when my dear friend Matthew and I attempted a venture to Chicago during Spring Break (we eventually made it). At least that time we saw the bus pulling away. I was really looking forward to that bus ride too! I had my book, ready to finish, a magazine, and a play. Having actually made it on the bus once (Aaron and Boston, you are very lucky!), I was planning to take full advantage of their unlimited Wi-Fi and outlets. Instead, I finished my book on the exercise bike at the gym this morning and hauled my backpack and pillow to Midtown for nothing. It's one thing to miss your bus, it's another displeasure to haul your crap to and from Midtown during morning rush hour. Pillow and backpack, I found myself a sweaty, hair-gelled mess as the sun was rising. On my shameful walk back to the subway, I managed to pass two lines of homeless, getting their morning rations from the local churches. I returned home ashamed and afraid. This afternoon I watched The Accused with Jodie Foster and knew exactly how that poor girl felt. So, now I am in New York, the hour not long past when I would returned theatre-d and hungover from Pennsylvania, my phone and camera full of drunken inspired tech-bites. "Well maybe, next year." "Send in the Clown" indeed.