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ONSTAGE & BACKSTAGE: Luxury Problems
By Seth Rudetsky
06 Aug 2007
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Lea (LEE-uh) DeLaria
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Have you heard the expression "luxury problem"?
Like the quandary Jerry Herman was in eight times a week during the mid-sixties: "Hmm…should I see the first act of my smash musical Hello, Dolly! and then catch the second act of my smash musical Mame? Or vice versa?" That was me and my boyfriend all last week. We went up to Provincetown to do some shows for "Family Week" because it was run by the rFamilyVacations people (who do the Rosie cruise). Essentially, we're both in the worst moods now because our vacation wasn’t perfect. So I know that's a luxury problem, but please allow me to vent. Firstly, we went to a restaurant that lured us in with a man standing in front of it holding a menu. I looked at it and decided that I wanted the delish lobster salad and thought the prices were A-OK. James and I sat down and (a) they then informed me that they no longer make lobster salad and (b) when we both opened our menu, we noticed that someone had meticulously put liquid paper on every price and raised it a dollar. But I guess the one menu they managed to miss was the one the man was holding outside. I'm sure that was just a coincidence.
Then James got food poisoning from said restaurant and had to start using the bathroom as often as a typical Christmas Carol at Madison Square Garden daily show schedule (believe me, that's a ton of times a day). Also, since I was doing my own show, the theatre gave me a great one-bedroom apartment. "Great," except for the fact that most of P-town has that Massachusetts attitude of, "Why would anyone possibly want air conditioning? This state was founded on hard work and deprivation. Sweating all night long is a badge of courage. Pass the chowder.” The whole first night was brutal. I tossed and turned because I felt like I was starring in Farah Fawcett Major's first dramatic turn ("The Burning Bed." Anybody?)
So, finally, the second night I had a complete breakdown from the heat and feeling bad for James with his upset stomach. And I couldn’t believe how extra hot the apartment was. The weird thing was that every time I went to the window to get some air, I felt even hotter. Could it be that hot outside? Finally, I bent down near the window pane to see why it was so boiling in that area, and my hand touched a scalding hot radiator. That's right, James' six-year-old daughter Juli had tried to put on the overhead light hours before and, by accident, turned the heat on — to 80 degrees! That was it for all of us. I grabbed everybody and booked us a room at "Christopher's by the Bay," which is a great guest house. Hmm…let me be honest, it is a great guest house, but quite frankly it could have been that crazy Saddam Hussein hole! The only thing we cared about was that it had air conditioning. We all traipsed over there at 11 PM and, even though I was getting free housing from the theatre, I paid for the next three nights because I don’t enjoy vacationing in a Dutch oven.
Anyhoo, while in P-town we all went to see that divine drag artist, Edie. Edie is really Christopher Kenny, a fiercely tall, beautiful ex-ballet dancer who I've done tons of benefits with and who was in the Threepenny Opera revival last year. Edie is a very sweet, adorable character and the show went over great with the guys and gals in the audience and the many children in attendance. Hmph. I never got to see shows like that when I was a kid. Although, I have mentioned before that my parents took me to the movie theatre when I was seven to see "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and Nurse Ratched is one inch away from a drag queen. She flat out looks like she's wearing a lace front (wig). Plus, Louise Fletcher later starred in the movie version of "Flowers in the Attic," a camp classic.
By the way, not only did six-year-old Juli love Edie, but so did ten-year-old Maggie…my dog. Before the show, we were all eating outside and ran into Lea DeLaria. She mentioned that Edie's show was starting, but I said I didn't have time to take Maggie home. She told us that she plays the same theatre, and it's dog friendly. I didn't really believe her, but the next thing I know, Lea walked us in and Maggie planted herself in the aisle…and she loved it. I always knew she had a campy sense of humor.
Also, here's a pronunciation lesson that should be taught in "Survey of Theatre" classes across the country. It's LAY-uh Salonga and LEE-uh DeLaria. James and I were sitting outside and heard some pretentious guy say to his circle, "Let me introduce you all to my good friend, Lay-uh DeLaria." That's like saying, "Let me introduce you to my good friend Wise Guys." It's Bounce, people! Bounce!
All right, here’s the part where the vacation plummeted. James, Juli and I went to "George's Pizza" and bought some pizza. As we were sitting at the table eating, I got up to get Juli a cup of water.
MAN BEHIND COUNTER: We sell bottles of water.
ME: Oh…I just want a paper cup of water.
MAN BEHIND COUNTER: We don’t do that.
ME: Plastic bottles are bad for the environment.
MAN BEHIND COUNTER: You can buy a paper cup…for $1.75. That’s the price of a bottle of water. ME: (Defiantly) Fine.
MAN BEHIND COUNTER: (Takes cup of water, puts ice in it, turns on faucet, fills it. Takes $1.75 from me.)
I was totally going to lead a Ragtime/"He wanted to say"/Emma Goldman-style protest of the restaurant…but it was way too hot to picket. So I just told the story to everybody I could, making me sound either like a folk hero or that crazy person on line at Fairway that you avoid by staring straight ahead. Continued...
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