Chicago

 I teach at a high school in Littleton, Colorado. It is not a high school in Littleton in which there was a shooting. I have to tell people that all the time when I travel.
  "Where do you teach?"
   "Littleton, Colorado."
    They freeze, afraid to ask but dying to know. Depending on how annoyed I am I will wait several seconds. "There are several high schools and two districts in Littleton. It's not like there are only the two high schools that everyone knows. I teach at one of the several." I'm only six years into my teaching career, and I suspect I won't make it six more. It's turned ugly, principals behave like Brian Dennehey in Silverado--which is a simile I use on a regular basis, and people think I'm older because of it. Didn't everyone's dad love Silverado and make them watch it once a year? When I use that allusion, I imagine that all teachers are Kevin Kline, torn between survival and doing the right thing. Beyond that, I don't know that the comparison makes sense, although I've met a few theatre teachers who are Kevin Costner, "Jake", just trying to have fun and have the nerve to be surprised when they end up in trouble. AP's are Jeff Goldblum, playing both sides....OK, I guess I could make this work, turns out I have thought about this.
     Sometimes I just want to talk to another educator without having the conversation turn to gun laws and school lock downs. I just want to relax and talk about literature, new books, the ridiculousness of a literature approval procedure and where is good to eat in the city we are visiting.
      This week it is  Chicago. Our training coincided with the gathering of post secondary teachers, some of which work at community colleges. My new best friend is teaching at a CC in Kansas City. She has two kids under the age of five and her husband is an electrician. She and I have been planning our future city adventures once we're done with our respective meetings tonight. I'm waiting for her at the hotel bar.
      There is a new work opening at Steppenwolf this weekend, I'm dying to go. I read the description online and it is described as an "international farce". I'm a sucker for new work, and I usually attend theatres alone. However my new friend did theatre in high school and loved it and she wants to see the show. I have discovered that without fail, if you mention theatre at an educational training event, everyone will tell you they took theatre in high school and loved it. None of these people went into theatre, nor to they teach theatre, but they all took a class and loved it.
     The bartender knows me from my previous post class evenings and sets a bottle of Fat Tire in front of me. You know you aren't in Colorado any more when there are no local brews on the tap.  She asks what I'm up to tonight.
      "We're going to Steppenwolf," I say, not expecting her to really care.
      "Doppleganger? It opens tonight, you got tickets to opening night?"
      "I bought them online two months ago, I knew I'd be here." I had purchased two, as is my habit, always hopeful I will meet a fellow thespian.
       "John Malkovich still stays here when he's in town," the bartender ventures. I crease my brow at her, as she can't be old enough to bartend, let alone know the history of Steppenwolf. She laughs at my expression "I know, but I'm a Chicago native, and my mom's a theatre teacher. So I probably know more about Steppenwolf than most." She pauses and leans on the bar "Did you make it to Second City?"
        I shake my head. "I only have tonight free, unfortunately, I had to choose between the two."
       "Come back and do Second City. You won't be sorry."
       "Are you in school...or an actor....?" I step lightly as it's rude to assume a bartender is anything besides a bartender, and God Knows I've offended many in my life by asking what else they do. Except in New York. In New York if you ask your waiter what else they do, they give you a resume. She just seems to light up at the topic, as opposed to standard bartender chatty knowledge.
        "I go to CIA, I'm a painter. But I do improv classes too and I love the whole scene. This town is always alive with art stuff, you know? The weather keeps a lot of people away, but those of us who stay, man, we're hard core. We know each other, we support each other. Is it like that in Denver? I've never been there."
        "If Chicago is where art comes to grow and thrive, Denver is where it goes to die."
        "Damn. Harsh."
        I shrug. "The truth hurts. The theatre teachers in my district all train their kids to leave Colorado. After this visit, I'm going to encourage them to come here. It vibrates here. There's theatre everywhere, and you people support it. I see everything from Steppenwolf's original plays, to the previews for the musical Pretty Woman, to small hole in the walls, storefronts and Second City. And it's all packed."
        "It's not like this there?"
         I shake my head and drink my beer. "Pot and craft beer do well. We do have a couple of college kids who thought to combine, they do Shakespare in a pub."
         "We have that here, but it's not craft beer, clearly. Just small pubs willing to have theatre happen. I've done two of those, they're so much fun. They don't pay us, but we drink for free. Makes for an interesting production."
         My new best friend arrives and plops on the stool next to me. "Do I have time for a drink before we go down?"
            I look at my phone for the time, "Yep. Wanna uber over?"
            "Cab's cheaper," the bartender chimes in."Not by much, but still."
            My friend orders her beer. "God that was a waste of my time."
           "Which class was today?"
           "It was the last one, so we had to do group exercises creating a poster explaining all that we covered, blah blah blah...."
            "I hate that shit. Stop pulling the same crap we pull on kids on us. We're teachers for a reason, I have no interest in doing group work." We clink glasses in agreement.
            "So what are we seeing? Someone asked me during class today, I couldn't remember the title."
           "Doppelganger. It's an 'international  farce' according to the website. 'Dwight' from The Office is in it."
           "Oh, cool, I'll know an actor! I love that, I love seeing someone I've seen on TV on stage. We don't get that in Kansas."
           "We don't get it in Denver, either."
           "Does he live here?"
           "Who?" I ask
           "Dwight."
            "His name is Rainn Wilson."
            "He must live here if he's doing the show, right?"
            I shrug, "Maybe. It's an original piece, so I assume he's been here workshopping for a while."
            "If it's opening and original, doesn't that mean they can still change the script?"
            I nod, but the bartender answers. "Yep, that's part of what is so exciting. You're seeing a show before it's been finalized! Is there a talkback after?"
            "Yes, it was listed on the website."
            "Then you get to give your input on the show. There will probably be several people with yellow pads taking notes as well, that's the creative team. I have a friend doing that tonight. She's on audience reactions, tracking where the laughs and groans are."
            "You sound like you'd like to see it."
            "They sold out fast the first two weekends, my friend is getting me in later."
            I look at my friend "Do you want to stay after?"
            "Let's see how good the show is. I do not want to stay if it sucks, what will I say?"
            "Fair," I finish my beer as she swallows the last of hers. "Cabs are lined up outside, there will be alcohol at the theatre. Ready?"
             My new best friend's phone rings. She holds up her finger for me to wait.
             "Her husband is struggling," I say to the bartender. "They're going to die without her I think. Kids have high fevers or won't go to bed or ran away or Timmy fell down a well or something.Good thing she's going back tomorrow."
             The bartender smiles "You have kids?"
             "God no."
              "Me either, they're the worst."
              "Right? Every horror movie or action movie, ever, it's the dumb ass kids that ruin everything."
             My new best friend waves at me to follow her to the cab. I hope she ends the conversation before curtain.
             The bartender smiles and shrugs as we move toward the cab, my  new best friend still on her phone.
             We are about to get into the cab when my new best  friend stops cold. "Ok, look, I'll call, maybe I can get on stand by."
              I wave off the cab and turn back to the bar, my new annoying friend trailing behind, waving her arms and rolling her eyes. She looks at me "I'm sorry, I need to try and go back sooner, I have to call the airport."
             "Did Timmy fall down a well?" I ask, because I know she isn't listening. I was right, she's on the elevator redialing the airport. I wave lamely "'kay, 'bye."
             I turn to get a cab for myself, and then at the last minute I return to the bar. The bartender had said earlier that she was filling in for the after convention rush, but it has quieted down considerably.
            "Hey, can you get off?" I ask, trying not to sound creepy. "I mean, my friend bailed and I have that extra ticket----" before I can finish, she has ripped off her apron and is around the bar. "Cool! Let's go!"
             And that is the story of how I met my New new best friend, my real best friend.