I know I shouldn’t complain. Most actors travel for work all the time. At least those of us lucky enough to be working. Some actors go months without seeing their significant others, but I miss my husband’s face. I haven’t seen it in almost nine months. And not because I haven’t seen him. I’ve been spending almost every second of the day with him as we’ve traveled the country performing on the Fiddler on the Roof national tour. I’ve missed my husband’s face because a giant ginger monster swallowed half of it! Though my husband’s hair is black, his beard grows red, and this giant red beard has covered his chiseled chin for the better part of a year. I’ve spent months anxiously awaiting the return of the chin, but now even though Fiddler is closed, the chin is still hidden. We just found out we’ll be traveling to Alaska for a month, and they want him to keep his beard. I supposed it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make to see Alaska, with my husband, but without his chin.
That being said, the tour is now at an end. We’ve performed Fiddler 220 times in more than 70 cities, traveled 50,000 miles on a blue bus, and I survived dammit. In honor of the end of my first national tour here is one of my favorite tour stories:
One night while I was performing on tour, I stayed behind at the theatre to help load the costumes back onto the truck. I was walking down the hall with our wardrobe mistress when we were stopped by two volunteers who were busy dumping batteries from our body mics. One of the women smiled and said with the sweetest southern accent, “I’m sorry, could I just ask, why do ya’ll put condams on your microphones?” (Please note condams is not a typo but rather a representation of how she said the word.)
Our wardrobe mistress answered with a smile while I tried not to giggle like the four-year-old I am. “Well, performers sometimes sweat quite a bit, and wrapping the mic packs in condoms is the fastest way to water proof them.” I smiled and we started to walk away.
“I’m sorry, I just have to ask… how do you get the lubricant off?” The woman asked in a timid voice.
Our wardrobe mistress answered again, “they actually make non-lubricated condoms, and we buy them in bulk for the show.”
The woman nodded thoughtfully. “You know, we used to have a rubber glove factory in town. They made condams, too. My girlfriend used to work at the factory, and when it shut down they gave her three plastic hand molds. She’s so proud of them. She’s got them hanging up in her living room. She told me she could have gotten three plastic penises, too, but she thought that would be too much.”