I am so tired.
Like, two-show-day tired.
Like seventh-show-of-the-week tired.
Like, I literally prayed that God would help me get through the finale in today's last show because I was just so doggone tired.
I know, you get it; I'm tired. Like, please move on.
Geez, tough crowd tonight.
So after my tiring seventh show (sorry, it just came out), I went with a few friends to listen to one of the guys from the Rent cast play an acoustic set at a small venue by our hotel.
And when I say small, I mean your great-grandmother's living room of the 5th story walk up flat when she lived in the Bronx. You know, you'd visit her in your Sunday best and eat a tiny T.V. dinner in front of a tiny T.V. and live for Sundays when the Ed Sullivan show would air.
Oh, that wasn't you?
Well anyway, the venue was small.
Like, venue is to small as I am to tired. And I only mention me being tired once again because I know you got that already and thought maybe using an analogy will help with you now getting how small the venue really was.
But anyway, I am in this small venue, listening to this guy play his great acoustic set basically in a living room with a bar attached to it, and suddenly my bladder feels so full. I try holding it for a while but, yeah, you can't just hold it forever.
I. Have. To. Go.
I look around for a bathroom and realize with horror that it is through this tiny door that is right where everybody is listening to the set. Not really removed at all. Just perfect.
But holding it any longer is no longer an option, so I head into the tiny bathroom. And right when I do, the guy ends his song and just starts quietly tuning for the next song.
Of course he does.
For all I know, the tuning could go on forever and since I stepped into the bathroom my need to go has gotten even worse. I think the bladder is sort of like a horse in that the closer you get to the stables, the faster the horse will go. Ah, only swap the stable for a toilet. And cantering for really needing to pee. Oh whatever, you know what I mean, right? You've felt the urge to go grow stronger with each step towards the bathroom, too?
That's what I thought.
Anyway, it's totally embarrassing because I just know that everybody can hear my own personal Niagara Falls and I might as well go stand next to the guy tuning his guitar and do it there, it's so loud and in the middle of everything. And since I had to go so badly and had held it up till then, it took forever until I stopped. I probably could have learned the Japanese language while I was waiting for my bladder to empty itself.
And what do you know, but the guy started his next song right when I finally did finish? It's all in the timing, isn't it?
Great, great, great.
I didn't even flush, I was so embarrassed. And I didn't want to remind people of my presence in the bathroom with more noises from within. Oh and if you even begin to suggest that I simply turn the faucet on to drown out whatever noises I was making, don't you think I thought of that?
I did, believe me. But lucky for me, the faucet was outside of the room with the toilet, so no good at all. Well, other than for washing your hands, I guess. But the cleanliness of my hands was not exactly what I was so preoccupied with at the moment, believe it or not.
So that was that.
Whatever, it's real life.
And a really good thing that came out of the whole experience other than me relieving myself to the entertainment of the masses and hearing some good music was that Clyde and I booked a gig there for next Saturday night. He walked right up to the management and got it done and we are both psyched to play in Tokyo. Also, there is this shiny grand piano there that I am just itching to play...