Sometimes You Just Have to Say "Fuck It"

Fuck it. I’m going to New York.

Exactly one year ago, I remember having a chat with a fellow almost 30-something friend.  She was telling me how she was going to go to New Orleans to celebrate her new decade in this world.  I thought that was a great idea! And I wanted to do something like that, but with New York.

Can you believe I have been involved in the Theatre industry for over half my life and yet I have never been to the mecca that is Broadway?  At the time of my birthday, I was working in Ottawa and didn’t think I could get the time off work or find the money to go.  A few months later, a group of friends was driving down to see Jerusalem before it closed.  At this point, I was an out-of-work Fringe performer who had just dropped a lot of money on acting classes in Montreal & Toronto, so once again, I bailed.  Every single person that went said they were incredibly moved and inspired by the production and I regretted not having gone.  Today, I got another email informing me that friends would be making another trek down, this time to see Philip Seymour Hoffman in Death of a Salesman.  I’m still broke, but money issues aren’t as bad as they used to be.  I’ve got free train travel, so I can meet up with the group in Ottawa, have an awesome road trip down to New York, maybe catch The Book of Mormon (because “sold out” is just a suggestion when it comes to me), see Times Square for the very first time, and then see an actor that I admire very much in one of the first plays I ever studied in high school.

Why? For the same reason my roommate and I decided to go visit Niagara Falls one day – because I want to be able to say that I was there.  And I’ll be doing it just before my next birthday too, so let’s call this a late birthday present to me.

 

Fuck it. I’m going to New York.