A kilometric good bye and thank you
Before I keep going back to earth and forget what I’ve just dreamt of. Before all the obvious things stop making sense. Before The Wonderland stops existing and it spreads over reality, before it turns opaque with the smoke of the cars, with the smoke of other parties, before it gets lost among the snow. Only because we kept walking.
I want to make a last spiritual trip to the pyramids of Teotihuacan (and get sunburned). I want to feel surrounded by Monarca butterflies, climb up The Tepozteco, visit the Virgin Guadalupe, walk thorough Coyoacan, get drunk in Xochimilco (and run out of gas). I want to have a different birthday party every week.
Before my mind travels to another place, I want to make one last tour.
I want to park behind the Auditorium, beside The Marte Field, and hope that the old lady or man doesn’t come for their payment, but no, there’s always someone there. So I give them twenty pesos, and walk or run to the office to sign in. Or I park at the Auditorium, or whenever I can park, since Reforma is closed. There must be a marathon or the Reyes Magos are passing.
Buenos días, buenas tardes, hey, hi, how are you?, good, great, tired, I have a stomach ache, I'm sleepy, dizzy, tipsy, I won’t make it today.
I arrive to Wardrobe and there is Gillian with that wonderful smile, or Debbie, always with a mysterious look, like she knows something. Brian brings the list and a long-winded speech begins. So, Lubalalo Sibindlana is out and Kenny Ingram/Cornelius Jones is on. Thabile Mtshali is out, Moya Angela/Kendra Moore is on. Marvette Williams is out, Christine Horn is on for Marvette and Moya Angela/Kendra Moore is on for Christine. Jindra Payne/Charlaine Katsuyoshi is out and Willia Montague/Shameika Hines is on. Angelo Rivera is out and José Silva is on. Clifton Oliver is out and Vusi Sondiyasi/Kehinde Hart is on. Geno Segers is out and Todd Kryger is on, Kenny is on for Todd. John Gardiner/Michael Dean Morgan is out and Joel Rainwater is on. Bob Amaral/Kevin Gray is out and Rod Thomas is on.
Take notes: TODAY'S SWITCHES. I change Lioness, Bird Ladies, Hyenas, Dashikis, Jungles, Mud Clothes, Fulani hats, Dashiki hats, Hyena legs, Hyena harnesses, shoes, and green bags.
I take the harnesses to the Front Of the House (FOH) and cross thorough the audience places. I hear the sound check, yes, no, a different song each time.
I preset the Lioness and the Bird Ladies, and wait for the half-hour call. Normally, Olympia and I hear the crazy stories that Cynthia has to tell us –and, I mean, she can’t help it–, or we talk about sex, while we see you going in and out of Makeup. So if you saw us smiling, the reason was the entertaining chat and not the marvelous view of each day. Furthermore, we almost ignore that exhibition of legs, buttocks and torsos in front of us.
Hola chicas. Hola Omari. Buenas noches. Hola Russel. Churriesss…
And, of course, waiting for the half hour call wouldn’t be the same without that spectacular walk of Bob… It is inevitable, we experience a transformation, as if he were our full moon, we howl and whistle with no control. ¿A dónde vas, flaquito?
Ladies and gentleman, this is the half-hour call. Half-hour call, ladies and gentleman. Nadia, César, Octavio and I get to put the grass skirts on the floor. Then I go back to sit till the parsimonious Mufasa shows up, followed by the very naked, but still serious Santgria, ready to dress up as a Birdman. That’s my five minute call.
So I pick up my eyes and go to the FOH. On my way, I find some kind of a freaky strange runway, lead by Jeremiah, and followed by any of the crazy people around, while others do like a techno rhythm with their mouth. You know: unza, unza, unza…
FOH. Russel arrives, reciting the last Spanish classes, and we have therapy. That means that if I’m sad, he hugs me and says nice things to me.
The conductor points out Gugwana, and she starts the show.
I go downstairs. Back on Stage Right (SR), there is Scar on his knees, waiting to go on stage.
Stage Left (SL). I have time to sit a moment before The Cirle of Life ends. There’s a tremendous rumble, and everyone gets ready to receive gazelles, elephants, giraffes, and antelope heads, while others help to put grass skirts on those arriving.
-Naomi, c’est toi? –That’s Omari.
-Oui.
-Merci.
-De rien.
And when everybody finally looks like walking grass, I go to hang up the Bird ladies. Geno starts humming.
SR. Mufasa and Simba just had their father and son moment and the grass skirts come out so we can take them off. Before that, like clockwork, Irela goes to SL, and a moment later Santgria crosses from SL to SR. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m having a déjà vu.
Sometimes, I didn’t know if I was having a déjà vu. Now, in contrast, I don’t know if all that is my mind playing tricks on me. But I still remember lifting my face, and looking at Octavio, who caught my eyes following Mr. Bello. I remember my friend smiling and telling me with his eyes: you don’t get tired of this, do you? I can remember me laughing, and that those laughs meant no.
The girls walk fast leaving the grass skirts on the floor. I take a couple of them to put them away, and I run to the female bunker.
There is Ahnjel, who says, almost singing:
-Naomi.
So I answer, almost singing:
-Ahnjel.
I button, close, hold, and zip. I think I made those movements hundreds of times. By the second day of work, I had this strange pain in my hands’ joints. Seriously.
I let the lioness go; I receive them again to see them go as hyenas. In the meantime, Jeremiah comes with the wildebeest suit hanging from his head or around his neck or some other crazy place. Sometimes, I listen to things like:
-Naomi, I’m not going out tonight.
That is Rema. That phrase, I think she said it one day, and the next day it was me saying it, and I’m really not sure if one of us followed those words literally.
-Naomi, I’m going straight to bed tonight.
Yep. I said that too. And then, for some reason, I ended up drinking cockroaches and muppets at Carisma, or at La Mezcalería.
Now I think I should, maybe, at least one day, pay attention to what Gillian said:
-Maybe you should go home.
-I can’t.
-You can’t?
-I can´t say no…
And, no, I was never able to.
Anyway, if you were wondering what was going on this whole time of dissertation, well, little Nala and little Simba were almost eaten, and, be prepared, Telly, Angelo, Santgria and Dion showed up. I have to say this. Thank god for those dancer hyena suits.
I walk from one stage to the other. I have this feeling that every place has its own stories, that each space has its own tours.
I sit, or read, or watch the screen. The great, parsimonious, Mufasa enters –I can’t believe that the same calm steps were dancing nights ago–, followed by the cute, tiny Fernanda; both with a charming smile.
The hyenas come back. I hang up harnesses. I hang up hyenas. I put away legs. I button, close, hold, and zip. I follow conversations.
Suddenly, to my right side, I hear some kind of high exhalation, uh, ah, as if someone were preparing himself for a hard exercise; I don’t know, maybe, the 100m dash, the vaulting pole jump, or even singing Hakuna Matata. Among the possibilities, I’m inclined to think that it’s John. I smile. I preset the Dashikis on the bench.
I unzip, open, and unbutton.
Intermission.
I strech, chat, read, or I stop playing hard to get and go to Repairs.
-David, these tears, there’s a problem with them.
I sit for a while before everything gets green and romantic.
I like this part, even though everyone gets a headache from dressing up as plants. It is almost a sadistic pleasure hanging up the jungle, and seeing Monica’s and Moya’s faces, sitting on the bench, looking at those huge, uncomfortable, and green –especially green– pods.
-Ok, Naomi, I’m ready.
They say it as if they were about to the gallows.
-Are you ready?
-Never.
But, anyway, the drama passes, the girls get dressed, I know that the clouds must clear and that the sun will shine. Lana and Simba meet again, they wrestle, I can see what’s happening. Angelo crosses behind the stage, he smiles, he lies down and sunbathes or pretends to, he makes really weird noises, really ugly faces. Once, we sang together. It was nice. Lana and Simba wrestle again, they fight.
-Enough, no more fighting. It’s the same thing with you, every day, oh my god …
Gaby is right. They don’t get tired of that.
-Fine!
We all get to run, for different reasons and causes. But, basically, we make the multiple jungles disappear and we prepare for the big finale.
Remember who you are.
Please don’t leave me.
I killed Mufasa.
Dashikis.
Mud clothes.
I button, close, hold, and zip.
And then again The Circle of Life, huge applause, several caravans, girls running to the bunker.
I unzip, open, and unbutton.
Thank you, have a good night, have a good break, see you in the lobby…
You are very welcome. Thank you so much for everything. And good luck.
I want to make a last spiritual trip to the pyramids of Teotihuacan (and get sunburned). I want to feel surrounded by Monarca butterflies, climb up The Tepozteco, visit the Virgin Guadalupe, walk thorough Coyoacan, get drunk in Xochimilco (and run out of gas). I want to have a different birthday party every week.
Before my mind travels to another place, I want to make one last tour.
I want to park behind the Auditorium, beside The Marte Field, and hope that the old lady or man doesn’t come for their payment, but no, there’s always someone there. So I give them twenty pesos, and walk or run to the office to sign in. Or I park at the Auditorium, or whenever I can park, since Reforma is closed. There must be a marathon or the Reyes Magos are passing.
Buenos días, buenas tardes, hey, hi, how are you?, good, great, tired, I have a stomach ache, I'm sleepy, dizzy, tipsy, I won’t make it today.
I arrive to Wardrobe and there is Gillian with that wonderful smile, or Debbie, always with a mysterious look, like she knows something. Brian brings the list and a long-winded speech begins. So, Lubalalo Sibindlana is out and Kenny Ingram/Cornelius Jones is on. Thabile Mtshali is out, Moya Angela/Kendra Moore is on. Marvette Williams is out, Christine Horn is on for Marvette and Moya Angela/Kendra Moore is on for Christine. Jindra Payne/Charlaine Katsuyoshi is out and Willia Montague/Shameika Hines is on. Angelo Rivera is out and José Silva is on. Clifton Oliver is out and Vusi Sondiyasi/Kehinde Hart is on. Geno Segers is out and Todd Kryger is on, Kenny is on for Todd. John Gardiner/Michael Dean Morgan is out and Joel Rainwater is on. Bob Amaral/Kevin Gray is out and Rod Thomas is on.
Take notes: TODAY'S SWITCHES. I change Lioness, Bird Ladies, Hyenas, Dashikis, Jungles, Mud Clothes, Fulani hats, Dashiki hats, Hyena legs, Hyena harnesses, shoes, and green bags.
I take the harnesses to the Front Of the House (FOH) and cross thorough the audience places. I hear the sound check, yes, no, a different song each time.
I preset the Lioness and the Bird Ladies, and wait for the half-hour call. Normally, Olympia and I hear the crazy stories that Cynthia has to tell us –and, I mean, she can’t help it–, or we talk about sex, while we see you going in and out of Makeup. So if you saw us smiling, the reason was the entertaining chat and not the marvelous view of each day. Furthermore, we almost ignore that exhibition of legs, buttocks and torsos in front of us.
Hola chicas. Hola Omari. Buenas noches. Hola Russel. Churriesss…
And, of course, waiting for the half hour call wouldn’t be the same without that spectacular walk of Bob… It is inevitable, we experience a transformation, as if he were our full moon, we howl and whistle with no control. ¿A dónde vas, flaquito?
Ladies and gentleman, this is the half-hour call. Half-hour call, ladies and gentleman. Nadia, César, Octavio and I get to put the grass skirts on the floor. Then I go back to sit till the parsimonious Mufasa shows up, followed by the very naked, but still serious Santgria, ready to dress up as a Birdman. That’s my five minute call.
So I pick up my eyes and go to the FOH. On my way, I find some kind of a freaky strange runway, lead by Jeremiah, and followed by any of the crazy people around, while others do like a techno rhythm with their mouth. You know: unza, unza, unza…
FOH. Russel arrives, reciting the last Spanish classes, and we have therapy. That means that if I’m sad, he hugs me and says nice things to me.
The conductor points out Gugwana, and she starts the show.
I go downstairs. Back on Stage Right (SR), there is Scar on his knees, waiting to go on stage.
Stage Left (SL). I have time to sit a moment before The Cirle of Life ends. There’s a tremendous rumble, and everyone gets ready to receive gazelles, elephants, giraffes, and antelope heads, while others help to put grass skirts on those arriving.
-Naomi, c’est toi? –That’s Omari.
-Oui.
-Merci.
-De rien.
And when everybody finally looks like walking grass, I go to hang up the Bird ladies. Geno starts humming.
SR. Mufasa and Simba just had their father and son moment and the grass skirts come out so we can take them off. Before that, like clockwork, Irela goes to SL, and a moment later Santgria crosses from SL to SR. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m having a déjà vu.
Sometimes, I didn’t know if I was having a déjà vu. Now, in contrast, I don’t know if all that is my mind playing tricks on me. But I still remember lifting my face, and looking at Octavio, who caught my eyes following Mr. Bello. I remember my friend smiling and telling me with his eyes: you don’t get tired of this, do you? I can remember me laughing, and that those laughs meant no.
The girls walk fast leaving the grass skirts on the floor. I take a couple of them to put them away, and I run to the female bunker.
There is Ahnjel, who says, almost singing:
-Naomi.
So I answer, almost singing:
-Ahnjel.
I button, close, hold, and zip. I think I made those movements hundreds of times. By the second day of work, I had this strange pain in my hands’ joints. Seriously.
I let the lioness go; I receive them again to see them go as hyenas. In the meantime, Jeremiah comes with the wildebeest suit hanging from his head or around his neck or some other crazy place. Sometimes, I listen to things like:
-Naomi, I’m not going out tonight.
That is Rema. That phrase, I think she said it one day, and the next day it was me saying it, and I’m really not sure if one of us followed those words literally.
-Naomi, I’m going straight to bed tonight.
Yep. I said that too. And then, for some reason, I ended up drinking cockroaches and muppets at Carisma, or at La Mezcalería.
Now I think I should, maybe, at least one day, pay attention to what Gillian said:
-Maybe you should go home.
-I can’t.
-You can’t?
-I can´t say no…
And, no, I was never able to.
Anyway, if you were wondering what was going on this whole time of dissertation, well, little Nala and little Simba were almost eaten, and, be prepared, Telly, Angelo, Santgria and Dion showed up. I have to say this. Thank god for those dancer hyena suits.
I walk from one stage to the other. I have this feeling that every place has its own stories, that each space has its own tours.
I sit, or read, or watch the screen. The great, parsimonious, Mufasa enters –I can’t believe that the same calm steps were dancing nights ago–, followed by the cute, tiny Fernanda; both with a charming smile.
The hyenas come back. I hang up harnesses. I hang up hyenas. I put away legs. I button, close, hold, and zip. I follow conversations.
Suddenly, to my right side, I hear some kind of high exhalation, uh, ah, as if someone were preparing himself for a hard exercise; I don’t know, maybe, the 100m dash, the vaulting pole jump, or even singing Hakuna Matata. Among the possibilities, I’m inclined to think that it’s John. I smile. I preset the Dashikis on the bench.
I unzip, open, and unbutton.
Intermission.
I strech, chat, read, or I stop playing hard to get and go to Repairs.
-David, these tears, there’s a problem with them.
I sit for a while before everything gets green and romantic.
I like this part, even though everyone gets a headache from dressing up as plants. It is almost a sadistic pleasure hanging up the jungle, and seeing Monica’s and Moya’s faces, sitting on the bench, looking at those huge, uncomfortable, and green –especially green– pods.
-Ok, Naomi, I’m ready.
They say it as if they were about to the gallows.
-Are you ready?
-Never.
But, anyway, the drama passes, the girls get dressed, I know that the clouds must clear and that the sun will shine. Lana and Simba meet again, they wrestle, I can see what’s happening. Angelo crosses behind the stage, he smiles, he lies down and sunbathes or pretends to, he makes really weird noises, really ugly faces. Once, we sang together. It was nice. Lana and Simba wrestle again, they fight.
-Enough, no more fighting. It’s the same thing with you, every day, oh my god …
Gaby is right. They don’t get tired of that.
-Fine!
We all get to run, for different reasons and causes. But, basically, we make the multiple jungles disappear and we prepare for the big finale.
Remember who you are.
Please don’t leave me.
I killed Mufasa.
Dashikis.
Mud clothes.
I button, close, hold, and zip.
And then again The Circle of Life, huge applause, several caravans, girls running to the bunker.
I unzip, open, and unbutton.
Thank you, have a good night, have a good break, see you in the lobby…
You are very welcome. Thank you so much for everything. And good luck.
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