The Long and Winding Road

Friday, April 3

After performing at Marr-Cook Elementary in the morning, we saw that the next call sheet was for a show at another elementary school, forty-five minutes away. So we hit the road, pushing through our lunch break, until we got to the school. I hopped out of the van, entered the front office, greeted the secretary with a big smile and said what I always say: "Hi, my name is Chris, and I'm with ArtReach, the group that is doing the show later today."

The secretary smiled back, but seemed puzzled. "A show...today?"

"Yes," I said, "and we just need to know where to load in." It's not uncommon for administrators not to know we are coming; I assume it's rather easy to forget about an assembly when there are hundreds of children's needs to worry about. So I didn't think much of the secretary's hesitation until she said:

"I believe we canceled that show."

My blood ran cold. Didn't the call sheet direct us here? And weren't we twenty minutes early? And then I remembered that our touring coordinator had mentioned a cancellation on Friday, and I rejoiced a little. Yes! We didn't have an afternoon show after all! It was a pity we had driven almost an hour to get here, but no harm done; let's just head back home!

Still, it never hurts to check. "Could you please double-check that for me?" I asked. "I'll call the office and confirm." She left, and I whipped out my phone.

While leaving a voicemail at the office, I heard the secretary talking with someone in a back room. She returned with a sad smile and said, "I'm sorry you made the trip, but we definitely canceled the show about a month back."

I thanked her and walked back out to the van, eager to share the good news with the rest of the group. I hopped in and said, "No show this afternoon! We're done. Let's go home."

But they weren't convinced, so we double-checked the calendar and saw, to our horror, that there was a different school listed than was on the call sheet. We skimmed through the binder and found no such sheet for that school. So Robbie used the GPS on his phone to get directions to the school (another forty-five minutes away, we learned) while I used my phone to contact the office.

I spoke with Kelly, and explained the situation. She said she would call the school and let them know we were running late. She added, though, that the show would have to be shortened to accomodate the bus schedule. Town Mouse, Country Mouse normally runs about fifty minutes or more, and then we take questions, so starting a show at 1:30 when the students are supposed to be boarding buses at 2:15 was cutting it close. As a group, we started thinking of how to tighten up the show, which bits could be shortened, which lines could be cut. And during the next half hour, we figured out a way to make the show itself a half hour; after all, we'd get to the school with less time to set up, and assuming we weren't able to start right at 1:30...well, we thought, it was going to be an adventure.

Little did we know.

For you see, as we made our way toward Russellville, OH, the road took us across some wide, open spaces. And we were on this road for almost twenty miles when Robbie (who was driving) suddenly said, "I don't like those orange signs."

Sure enough, a quarter-mile ahead, was an orange diamond by the side of the road which warned, in big, black letters: ROAD ENDS IN 1000 FT. We came around the bend, and lo and behold, where once a bridge stood, there now was construction. Men in hard hats, bulldozers, and a series of dirt blockades stopped us literally at the end of the road. Robbie turned the van around, and as we headed away from the construction site, we saw detour signs. (The logic escapes me.) I called the school and informed them that the road we were on suddenly disappeared.

"Oh," said the principal, "you must be on 68-South."

"That's right," I said, "except that now we're on a detour road. 774-South."

"Oh," said the principal, very grave, "I don't think you're going to make it." She re-explained the bus situation, and said that the road we had taken would take us too far out of the way. In short, she wanted to cancel the show. I told her that it wasn't my call to make--I'm only the road manager, and cancellations and schedule adjustments are beyond my limited authority--and that I would relay the message. Which I did.

Kelly OK'd the cancellation, and since we were within ten minutes of the school and it was only 1:35, we were a bit disheartened. Not only is it always a joy to perform, but it turns out that the booking was made at the last minute, and the school was anxious to have us. I can't help but feel a little guilty for not paying closer attention to the discrepancy between the call sheets and the calendar, but in a situation like this, everyone and no one is really to blame. All you can do is to try to be more vigilant in the future.

We had been running out of gas the entire trip, and so we stopped at a gas station and UDF nearby. While the van filled up with gas, I bought a double-dip (twisted turtle and some sort of almond flavor). And as we traveled "the long and winding road" back to Cincinnati, we played the Wicked soundtrack, and sang songs to pass the time.