Thursday, April 24, 2003
Week 21
April 24, 2003
So I'm on my way to the Subway this morning and I'm walking down the street,
and I see this good looking girl approaching me and she's checking me out,
(I'm not sure why - I'd had four hours sleep - maybe it was the suit - I
wore a suit today - more on that later) so I smile back, and then she smiles
back even bigger, and I'm feeling pretty good because I'm wearing a suit and
thinking, hey, I must look pretty good for once and this lovely lass
actually noticed.
I do my best to play it cool. If all goes well, I say to myself, I may even
say something to her as I pass by.
Then her gaze shifts (she's checking out the entire package) and I can feel
her gaze go down to my shoes, my running shoes, which I'm wearing because if
I walked to work in my dress shoes my feet would turn purple. In my
defense, lots of people wear running shoes to walk to work.
But that's no excuse when you're trying to be cool. Sorry - wear the nine
inch heels and quit complaining. Coolness costs.
So by this time I'm pretty sure the shoes have killed it for me, but I see
she's still smiling, and I think I may just pull it off when I trip over a
crack in the sidewalk and come so close to falling on my face that I can
smell the concrete, my nose goes down so far - I mean, I was practically
horizontal. And I'm sure the stumble has definitely ruined my chances, but
I then I think, 'you know what? I pulled it out. I didn't actually fall -
that was a pretty remarkable recovery.'
So the shoes didn't kill it for me. And the stumble didn't really kill it
for me. But then my plastic bottle of orange juice and my cereal bars fell
out of my bag onto the sidewalk.
My God. What was I thinking?
Now, even at this juncture, I had a chance to salvage some dignity. But as
we know from the now infamous Starbucks application, I am not exactly a
paragon of self-resepect. If I had any pride at all, I would have not
looked back, and left the offending items exactly where they fell.
But I could not. My body commanded me to stop and
retrieve my items. I stopped, picked up my breakfast off the sidewalk, and
tied one of my loose shoelaces. Stupid Adidas.
When I looked up, of course, my little nymph had disappeared. I don't blame
her. In that moment, I don't think I would've talked to me either.
This is hilarious. I was just sitting here writing this and the phone rang.
I picked it up, and somebody said, by way of greeting, "My nigga."
Can you believe that? 'My nigga.' It just happened, ten seconds ago. You
think I would have learned my lesson! I could have said , 'Wassup?' or even
'Hello.' But, no, I said, 'This is David Stott speaking.'
The guy on the other end laughed and laughed. 'Obviously you don't fit my
description.'
On the cooler side of things (kids, it's an endless struggle) I had a
banner day today, despite my being white. Our first rehearsal for the
Halfway Show was this morning, and I found out I have two pieces in the
show, and I get to star in one of them. If you'll be anywhere near New
York Monday, April 28th at 7:30 p.m. I'll be making my NYC debut at Ensemble
Studio Theatre, 549 W. 52nd Street (between 10th and 11th).
I remind you of the other greats who have appeared on that stage, many moons
ago: Sarah Jessica Parker, Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgwick, John Turturro, Lev
Schreiber, Bill Murray, Terri Garr, Jerry Stiller, David Hyde Pierce,
Stanley Tucci.
With my luck and upbringing, on Monday I will trip and fall when I come
onstage, spilling bottles of juice and cereal bars all over the audience,
but at least it will be memorable. ¶ 5:31 PM
So I'm on my way to the Subway this morning and I'm walking down the street,
and I see this good looking girl approaching me and she's checking me out,
(I'm not sure why - I'd had four hours sleep - maybe it was the suit - I
wore a suit today - more on that later) so I smile back, and then she smiles
back even bigger, and I'm feeling pretty good because I'm wearing a suit and
thinking, hey, I must look pretty good for once and this lovely lass
actually noticed.
I do my best to play it cool. If all goes well, I say to myself, I may even
say something to her as I pass by.
Then her gaze shifts (she's checking out the entire package) and I can feel
her gaze go down to my shoes, my running shoes, which I'm wearing because if
I walked to work in my dress shoes my feet would turn purple. In my
defense, lots of people wear running shoes to walk to work.
But that's no excuse when you're trying to be cool. Sorry - wear the nine
inch heels and quit complaining. Coolness costs.
So by this time I'm pretty sure the shoes have killed it for me, but I see
she's still smiling, and I think I may just pull it off when I trip over a
crack in the sidewalk and come so close to falling on my face that I can
smell the concrete, my nose goes down so far - I mean, I was practically
horizontal. And I'm sure the stumble has definitely ruined my chances, but
I then I think, 'you know what? I pulled it out. I didn't actually fall -
that was a pretty remarkable recovery.'
So the shoes didn't kill it for me. And the stumble didn't really kill it
for me. But then my plastic bottle of orange juice and my cereal bars fell
out of my bag onto the sidewalk.
My God. What was I thinking?
Now, even at this juncture, I had a chance to salvage some dignity. But as
we know from the now infamous Starbucks application, I am not exactly a
paragon of self-resepect. If I had any pride at all, I would have not
looked back, and left the offending items exactly where they fell.
But I could not. My body commanded me to stop and
retrieve my items. I stopped, picked up my breakfast off the sidewalk, and
tied one of my loose shoelaces. Stupid Adidas.
When I looked up, of course, my little nymph had disappeared. I don't blame
her. In that moment, I don't think I would've talked to me either.
This is hilarious. I was just sitting here writing this and the phone rang.
I picked it up, and somebody said, by way of greeting, "My nigga."
Can you believe that? 'My nigga.' It just happened, ten seconds ago. You
think I would have learned my lesson! I could have said , 'Wassup?' or even
'Hello.' But, no, I said, 'This is David Stott speaking.'
The guy on the other end laughed and laughed. 'Obviously you don't fit my
description.'
On the cooler side of things (kids, it's an endless struggle) I had a
banner day today, despite my being white. Our first rehearsal for the
Halfway Show was this morning, and I found out I have two pieces in the
show, and I get to star in one of them. If you'll be anywhere near New
York Monday, April 28th at 7:30 p.m. I'll be making my NYC debut at Ensemble
Studio Theatre, 549 W. 52nd Street (between 10th and 11th).
I remind you of the other greats who have appeared on that stage, many moons
ago: Sarah Jessica Parker, Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgwick, John Turturro, Lev
Schreiber, Bill Murray, Terri Garr, Jerry Stiller, David Hyde Pierce,
Stanley Tucci.
With my luck and upbringing, on Monday I will trip and fall when I come
onstage, spilling bottles of juice and cereal bars all over the audience,
but at least it will be memorable. ¶ 5:31 PM
