47th Street between 9th and 9th, though, has lots of trees. I was enjoying the crisp October morning. For some reason, it felt like this was "home." I felt like I belonged here. Also, something big was happening to me. My show, THE LAST SESSION, was actually opening off-Broadway.
Suddenly, a big truck pulled up to the exact spot where I was standing. I jumped back, fearing it would hit me. Two burly guys jumped out of the cab, pulled opened the huge door in the back, and threw out a bundle of paper. Little booklets of some sort wrapped in bailing wire. They tossed it onto the sidewalk next to me. And, without a word, they piled back into the truck and drove off.
Puzzled, I looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then I walked over to the bundle, pulled away some of the packing paper and saw a flash of bright red and yellow. It was a Playbill.
And suddenly, it all became real.
I screamed out loud. "THE PLAYBILLS!! THEY'RE HERE!!"
Our show. Our names. New York City. Off-Broadway. Playbill. It was actually happening.
And now, it's going to be happening again.