Everything The Traffic Will Allow

I heart North Park Vaudeville. Why, Dear Readers? Let me count the ways.

1. Summer and Jeff (the owners) gave us roses on opening night and thank you cards (thank you cards! with a personal message!) after the last show.

2. The backstage is small, but there is a party in the alley behind the theater that goes on for three hours. I had heard about the popcorn, chips and soda--what I didn't expect were the homemade chocolate chip cookies and chocolate-frosted cupcakes. And champagne after!

3. My new best pal Alec told me I'm special and hugged me about 10 times an hour. Talk about feeling the love.

4. Every single one of my castmates seemed to be entirely freakin' awesome. We were hootin' and hollerin' like we'd known each other for years.

5. The stage has a real red velvet curtain that closes between scenes. While we're setting up back there, they play music that we get to choose. I picked out Barbra Streisand's version of "Luck Be A Lady." It was divine.

6. The front of the theater is a candy shoppe. Yes, the kind with the "e" and extra "p." Where they sell root beer barrels and Necco wafers during the intermission.

7. The 25 plays run in groups of 6 or 7 over four weekends. Jeff asked me if I was in the other weekends. When I said no, he said "Well, I sure wish you were."

8. Summer said to me, "You're a professional actress, right?" Um, no. But thanks for making my night.

9. The insane clown posse of John and James addressed me at each sighting as "Yo, Goldstein!"

10. One of the directors, Jayson, said to me, "You're very talented. Why haven't I heard of you? I'm very talented, too. Have you heard of me? Your number? Got it. Oh! That's me, calling you, in case you were wondering."

11. My director, Pat, came to see us three out of four performances. Her notes? "You guys were awesome. Keep having fun." I am so going to miss her.

12. Two people complimented me on my singing. After three lines of "Zippedy Doodah." The second guy grudgingly mumbled, "Yeah, and your acting's okay, too."

13. My house job (fitting, since I was dressed as a maid) was sweeping the lobby. Every night I asked if it was time to sweep. Every night Summer or Jeff said "Aww, it's okay, Sam. But thanks." But I like sweeping! Really!

14. How about they produce unpublished plays from all over the world, give interesting work to dozens of actors, provide theater opportunities of all kinds to developmentally challenged adults and genuinely care about every step of the process? I tell ya, the weekend was like opening a big pile of presents that just keep coming. I can't help gushing a little.

15. How about the raid on the massage parlor next door (they share stairs with the theater) on Friday night? Scantily clad women fleeing in SUVs, followed by two guys with badges and plaid shirts yelling "Did you see some diminutive Asian women run through here?" Meanwhile, they're squinting at us, some clad in pajamas and French maid costumes, loitering in the alley. "We're putting on a show, Officers." An hour later, one of the diminutive women tiptoed back up the steps in undies, a towel and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. When it was time for my entrance, I pushed past a large man receiving a hearty send-off on the landing. I remembered to say "Pardon me!"