Chicago.

The Metrics:

5         =   Total number of Greyhound buses boarded.
16       =   Minutes spent ironing JET interview clothes.
1.36    =   Ratio: Time spent in Chicago (for interview) vs. time traveling to & from.
3.89    =   Ratio: Time spent in Chicago (for conference) vs. time traveling to & from.
4         =   Number of alcoholic beverages consumed.  Preference: Amaretto Sour.
----------------------------------------

These last few weeks have been very busy for the RowStein house.  Dan had work, class (complete with Midterm exam), intense opera rehearsals for Lucia di Lammermoor, and several performances of the same.  I, instead, traveled twice to Chicago in a two week period.  Neither trip was for vacation, but both were enjoyable in their way.

Ahh, Chicago.  So very pretty.

The first trip (which gave me a mere 24.5 hours in Chicago) was for my official JET Program interview.  If you've never heard of the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program, you can visit their very cool website by clicking HERE.  The Program places native English speakers in a variety of teaching, coaching, and assistant positions, working alongside Japanese teachers (in Japan... obviously).  I've been a fan of the organization for years, having applied once before in the 2008-2009 season.  At that time, I was offered a position, but turned it down in order to move to the Twin Cities and... well, grow up a little more.  Now, I'm much more ready to take the leap, if they'll have me.

Here's one of the JET Program logos.  I dig the silhouettes.

The interview itself went well, I think.  I walked out of the Chicago consulate with a happy feeling in my gut that I continually dissected, picked-apart, and obsessed over in the weeks that followed until I felt like I'd completely bombed the interview.  Since that's exactly what I did the first time around (when I was offered a spot), I've decided to take it as a good sign.  I'll hear the results of the interview sometime in early April and, in the spirit of blogginess, I will most certainly be posting something.  Whether that's a celebratory post or a phonetic-typed rendition of my drunken weeping remains to be seen.

My second trip to Chicago was for the Mid-America Theatre Conference.  (You can check out their 2012 conference website by clicking HERE.)  I was a participating playwright both this year and last, with my original works being presented in the conference's signature "Friday Night Fringe Fest."  These plays are usually selected for their racy subject matter, their envelope-pushing, and... in the case of my works... leather corsets, slap-happy women, and glow in the dark dildos.  Hey, we all have to have a niche, right?

Posing by the digital faces in Millennium Park.

In all seriousness, though, the conference was a wonderful experience.  I met some fabulously talented playwrights and heard many new works, some polished and some still in progress.  I listened to the papers of brilliant scholars and theater professionals.  I had passionate, stimulating conversation over drinks and way too expensive food.  And, best of all, I remembered why I love working in the theatre.  I was reminded why I slave over my laptop every night.  I left Chicago inspired.  Rejuvenated.  Thrilled.

So, it's really a shame that my trip home was so soul-crushingly awful.  Now, to be totally honest, I've had a couple wonderful Greyhound experiences in the past.  Those buses were spacious, clean, the ride was smooth, the passengers were quiet and courteous, and the expense was minimal (which is an important factor for someone as poor as me).  So, they're not ALL bad.  However, my most recent trip... the overnight bus from Chicago to the Twin Cities... was so unbelievably horrible that it nearly erases all previous positivity. 

Here it is, in a chronological nutshell:
1.)  Man with no teeth, smelling of cheap booze, sits next to me and recites the entire Marley family tree, listing how each one relates to Bob Marley. 
2.)  Sneaky little twenty-something tries to smoke in the bathroom, causing bus to be jerked to the shoulder of the highway, while other passengers chant, "Someone gonna walk!  Someone gonna waaaaalk!"  (Note: He didn't actually walk, but he did have to get off the bus earlier than his final destination, sleeping in the Milwaukee Greyhound terminal as punishment.)
3.)  A loudly snoring man.  So... much... snoring.
4.)  A blue-toothed woman who insisted on talking on the phone.  At midnight.  And 1 am.  And 2 am. 
5.)  McDonald's.  Somewhere around 3 am.  Even though the guy keeps explaining that they're on the "limited night menu," which is IN HUGE PRINT, every single passenger in the line in front of me keeps ordering something that's not on it.  Then he has to explain AGAIN.  Every passenger.  I'm not kidding.
6.)  Now, it's quiet.  Everyone's asleep but me.  Well, me and the farmer man, in his dirty, over-sized overalls.  We're the only ones awake.  I can't sleep.  I can't sleep.  I watch him, idly.  What's he doing?  He's drinking orange juice straight from a half-gallon jug.  He's reading.  His mouth hangs wide open as he reads.  He looks like a fish.  In my sleep-addled state, it's making me giggle.  "Who reads like that?" I think.  Then I notice his overalls are moving.  They're moving.  That's weird.  "Does he have a breathing problem?" I think.  "He's looks kind of like he's-- OH MY GOD."
7.)  OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.
8.)  This is a public place!  Do I report him?  I mean, I was the one looking... OH GOD.  I'M A PERV.
9.)  Now, I stare out the dark window.  Staring.  Counting the minutes.  Not looking.  Not looking.  Trying my best not to be an accessory to pervishness.
10.)  5:40 am!  St. Paul station!  At last!  I grab my bags, run to my husband's waiting car, throw myself inside, and shout, "DRIVE!"

So.  There you have it.  Chicago x2.
Stay tuned for weekly RowStein updates!

Sincerely,
WR