by Sarah Borer
There. I said it.
I’m not going to miss that dead animal stench that you could sometimes smell when you walked back to the bathrooms (it came from somewhere underneath the seats, I’m not sure what it is and I really don’t want to know). I’m not going to miss the lavender (or whatever color they had decided on for the month) stage. I’m not going to miss having to work around someone else’s schedule. I’m not going to miss the extremely hot summers. I’m not going to miss the stairs leading down into the basement that I am still surprised I never fell down. I’m not going to miss the corn stalks painted on the outside of the building (although it did make it easier to give directions). I’m not going to miss the brief moment of panic that I felt every night after locking up, thinking that I’d forgotten to turn off a light or restock the toilet paper or unplug the lightboard.
So what the hell am I going to miss?
It’s been over 3 years now since I first stepped into that theater as a stage manager. And I’ve spent way too much time in it since then – I know every inch of that space. I got used to the creaks, the smells, the green couch in the lobby. I’ve worked in other theaters, but the Cornservatory was always home.
And at the same time it wasn’t home. There were times when we were treated like family (the New Year’s Eve show won’t be quite the same without the Corn people), but other times we were simply treated like tenants – which is what we were. Which I had a tendency to forget, until we would inevitably get a stern talking to for forgetting something. Or when one of the improv groups would throw a chair at the wall and take a big chunk of plaster out.
I was comfortable there, but it wasn’t ours.
And now… Finally. FINALLY. We have our own space. Our own home. Chemically Imbalanced Theater.
I have to get used to a whole new set of creaks (no weird smells yet… there was something last night in the lobby, but I think that was just the remnants of a fart).
I have a new set of stairs down to the basement that I have to worry about, but I’ve always had issues with stairs.
And our light booth kinda sucks. But now that I think about it, I’ve only worked in one light booth that doesn’t (this may be its own blog… why theater companies hate the people in the booth).
And I will probably still have that brief moment of panic whenever I lock up, thinking that I’d forgotten to turn off a light or restock the toilet paper or unplug the lightboard. But that’s just me.
No more working around another company’s schedule. Or color scheme. We’ve got our own place with its own quirks. We’ve got our home.
That fart smell came from Dave W.