A really good picture of Beatrice on the bridge…
Now, on to this weekend’s report:
- Pretty much everything. This was, without a doubt, the finest opening weekend in memory. The weather, sunny and in the mid-70s, was more than we could have hoped for….some 20 to 25 degrees cooler than in recent years, which gave every performer much more energy, giving us the strength to make it through three days, maintaining a high level of performance for the patrons who attended.
- As a result, one of the best parts of the weekend for me was getting to see friends performing at the top of their game. Wonderful.
- The Courting Italians are a hit. Word spread quickly among the cast, and by mid-day on Saturday, we were being greeted and reverenced by all and sundry. Casanova’s routine with the ladies was so successful that it got back to me that patron women had been correcting the hand-kissing of the court gentlemen, insisting that they do it “the way Casanova does.” Awww yeah, baby. Giac-daddy in da hizzouse.
- The eldest daughter is working out at Festival this year, as the assistant to
in her shop. Minion, as she has been dubbed, had a blast, and I love the fact that this experience is something we can share.
- Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is a pleasure to work with….a sharp improvisational performer, and bawdy as all hell, while still maintaining a commanding regality. You can see everyone respond to her, and morale among her subjects is through the roof, which makes a palpable difference in the lanes.
- The whole place has taken a major step back towards how things used to be, and away from the recent “family entertainment” conservatism. Hooray for tits and beer! As
said, it’s like we’re channeling 1988 again. Lovely. in her courtesan outfit. Just sayin’. , and I were sitting on the bridge, singing some songs in three-part harmony (primarily to practice for the Last Huzzah, which we host). Who should walk by but the owner of the Festival….who stopped, watched us with a smile on his face, nodded and went on his way. Score!
- Last year, I felt like the fat old guy. A year later, about 60 pounds lighter, and some more flattering clothing, and that has been well and truly dispelled for me. The weekend was filled with blushing women, countless compliments, quite a few ass-pats, and even a “daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn.” It’s been quite a long time since I’ve felt this good about my looks. I have to admit — I like feeling like the “hawt guy” for a change.
- The former queen seems to think that she’s supposed to be “helping” me run the Last Huzzah. Sorry, I don’t think so. Got so bad that she was actually trying to tell me what songs we’d be doing. I think that I’m going to have to put a word in a certain ear on this topic, and get her be-ribboned gypsy ass back in line with the other musicians. ‘Cuz that’s how Giacomo rolls, yo.
- Getting slapped by a drunk bride. No, I’m not kidding. I did my Casanova routine for a newlywed couple, who were attending in costume, with the smell of wine wafting off from them in waves. They both responded very well, laughing and playing back….until the end of the schtick, when the bride says “Come here,” and grabs me by the lapels, pulling me down to her. At which point, she hauls off and literally bitch-slaps me — forward and backhand, in rapid succession. *whap-whap!* I could tell she was trying to be playful and do a stage-smack, but, being drunk, it was full-on. I stood back, and recovered with “good thing you’re married, signora….because I think I’m in LOVE.” They both laughed and walked on….at which point I turned to my fellow performers and said OW……
13 more days like these, please.