My Diploma from Second City

The day from hell has passed and in my hands is the diploma from Second City. It’s hard to believe that it was a year ago that I enrolled in the school at Second City. Man, how time flies. As happy as I am about finishing the course, I still feel very sad that I will no longer be attending the Tuesday night class with my good friends and classmates.

Today didn’t start this morning, it started yesterday morning. I’ve now been awake for well over 36 hours. This is the price you pay for working in the arts. Let this be a lesson to those who happen to read these words. You will never stop paying the dues. Never.

I knew what lay ahead of me was going to be a massive strain on the mind and body.

First, I'm up at 6:30 am Friday morning and I had a whole day of audio production and show prep. I spend all of the morning and afternoon producing new music beds for my shift at WLUP. It seems that my trusty old assortment of odd movie themes and instrumentals doesn’t fit the classic rock sound of The Loop. In between productions I scanned the local newspapers and online sources for anything that could work as content for the broadcast.

At 10:00 pm Friday Night I took an hour long drive into downtown Chicago. Next, a 7 hour live broadcast starting at 12:00 am Saturday morning. I was back on the road by 7:30 am and taking the long drive back to my house in the suburbs. I’ve been officially awake for over 24 hours and I’m not done yet

Home by 8:30 am. Boy, was my wife worried, I looked like the walking dead. I took a joyous hot shower, changed into my dress clothes for my final class performance at Second City. I even had a few minutes to lie on the bed and try and trick my body into thinking I was waking up. Didn’t work.

10:15 am Saturday morning. I loaded up the wife and mother-in-law into the SUV and started the hour drive back downtown to Second City.

11:15 am Saturday morning. We arrived at Second City. I kissed the wife goodbye and joined my classmates for a pre-show warm up and review of our set. The whole class was super excited and full of all that great energy that can only come from this type of work. I was awake, but the sleep depravation blanketed my thought process like a bottle full of Prozac.

12:00 Saturday afternoon. The class and I make our way to the Second City etc. stage. Family and friends are waiting outside the entrance anticipating the upcoming show. Backstage is cluttered with the bazaar odds and ends that you would expect to find in some theater basement. Wigs, Hats, graffiti, a small dorm room fridge, and even an old couch make the backstage area seem more like a party hut than a theater. It feels cool to be there. Everyone is super excited. A crappy tv allows the backstage area to monitor the onstage happenings in black and white. It looks like a public access tv show.

12:15 Our fabulous teacher and all around cool guy Brian Posen gives us some words of wisdom and heads off to start the show. We could hear the talking of the crowd in the theater. Everyone’s nervous energy is causing some seriously bad jokes to fly around as we wait for the final cue. My good friend Chris takes the moment to tell everyone how much he has enjoyed taking the class with them. He’s a great guy. We all feel the same way.

12:30 The music starts, the lights flash, and we head out to the stage. For the next 45 minutes we put our skills on the line and try our best. I was so impressed with everyone’s performance.

1:30 We meet outside the theater where a huge crowd has gathered to talk to the performers. Lots of smiles and pats on the back. Most of my classmates decide to meet across the street for one last beer. Unfortunately, I have to drive back to the burbs in order to pick up my wife’s son from the babysitter. There is no time for one last goodbye. I meet my classmate Patrick walking down the street towards the bar. He did a fantastic job and I tell him so. He asks if I will be trying out for the conservatory program in November.

1:45 Were back in the SUV and driving towards the highway down crowded North Avenue. Some jackass in a small black Honda rear ends us a block from the entrance ramp. I could hear the crunch as the truck shook. The vein in my wife’s forehead reaches epic proportions as it pumps enough blood to power a nuclear generator. Nice. Luckily for us, the dork’s ultra low ride hit us square in the small trailer hitch under the bumper, driving a perfectly square hole through his front bumper and hood. We didn’t even chip paint.

2:00 Back in the car and heading twords home.

3:00 We hit mcdonalds so I can get a nutritious meal, the first time I have eaten in almost 20 hours. We picked up the boy and headed back to the house to unwind.

5:38 pm Saturday October 8, 2005 I’m sitting in my downstairs production studio in a ripped up pair of jeans and an old blue Nike hooded sweatshirt. Upstairs my wife is spending the last hour with her mom before we have to drive her to O’Hair Airport in order to catch her flight back to South Africa.

I’ve been awake now for over 36 hours. I did a 7 hour live radio broadcast and an hour long Second City Improv show. I drove several hundred miles and I’m still not done yet. I have a folded dollar bill in old black wallet and a few quarters in my jeans pocket. I’m broke as shit. This is the reality of show business. I love it.

Facing me on my desk is the diploma from Second City. On my other computer monitor is a grainy color picture I took of all my classmates with my cell phone camera. This has been a great day. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.