Less Than 24

Less than 24 hours now before rehearsals begin and I seem to spend more time writing about the experience than experiencing the experience. But that's about to change and I can't wait.
I got an email from my Stage Manager Andy over the weekend confirming our first rehearsal date and time and location and the availability of our scripts at the Winter Garden Theater. I was planning to try and pick up the script this afternoon at the theater, but when I finally spoke with Andy, I was informed that scripts had already been delivered to the rehearsal space. I guess I won't see it until tomorrow.
In the meantime, I did take advantage of my last morning as a "free man" - another one of those delusional anecdotes, otherwise known as "unemployed actor" - and played hockey. I play ice hockey a couple times a week and I must say, it is beyond therapeutic. It is cathartic. It is one of the most enjoyable moments of my week!
I play "Open Hockey" which means anyone with skates and a stick can join us, but it's usually the same group of 10-12 guys - Doug, our GM (general manager, because he tries to loosely organise the session), Scotty, our seasoned pro, Nick, Terry, Joe, Brian, Stan - your basic group of hockey crazed, middle aged men. And everyone's got a nickname - "Gigantor", "The Snow Ape", "The Ice Manatee", "Fuzzball", "Johnny Cakes". I'm lucky enough to have two nicknames - "Minut", after Minut Bol, the famous basketball player from the 1980's, and "The OC", short for "The Orange Cone". One day I was playing particularly slow and Scotty was critiquing my performance, saying that he was "skating around me like an orange cone on the ice." The name stuck.
I played hockey as a youth, until I was about 12 years old, but then I stopped, using the excuse that I had "bad knees". I hadn't played for nearly 30 years, taking it up again at the age of 40. My wife encouraged me. I think she regrets that encouragement now.
I love hockey because, like acting, it is an escape. An escape from the real world, an escape from life. But I've also discovered that it's a form of male camaraderie that I don't find anywhere else. It's a competitive camaraderie with a language all it's own. We curse at each other. We yell at each other. We use language that would make a truck driver blush and a nun run for the cloisters. But, and if any of them read this they're gonna call me more names than I can imagine, we love each other too, in a strange way. We support each other. We encourage each other. We respect each other. We don't really know much about each other, aside from the time we spend together on the ice, but these are friendships and times together that I cherish deeply and hope never end. My wife once suggested we have a "party" and invite my hockey buddies over, so she could meet some of the guys like "Studley" and "The Professor" and "The Weatherman." Now I love a good party, so I gave it some thought for a moment, and then said, quite vehemently, "No way! I don't want these guys knowing where I live!"
But more importantly, I don't want to break this sacred bond, this male bastion of communication and friendship. These are hockey buddies and what happens on the ice, stays on the ice.
But now I leave all that behind, at least for a short time, and I prepare for the show that lies ahead. I have no idea what to expect.
Well, I have a little idea, actually. Tomorrow we'll have what's commonly referred to as the "Meet and Greet", which is the first meeting of all involved. Everyone will probably go around the room and introduce themselves and what their function is with the show, be it actor, director, stage manager. Then we'll start musical rehearsals, where (even though we might think we know the music) we'll actually learn the music, including things like harmonies, of which I'm guessing there are plenty. We might also do some "table work", where we literally sit around the table and discuss the story of MAMMA MIA! and how each of our characters fits into the story and what each character wants, what it is that motivates them. This is always a great place to start, not only as an understanding of the story, but also as an introduction of the people, all of whom will be working together for the foreseeable future. By the end of the day there may be some staging or dancing, but that remains to be seen.
That's what I expect to happen, in any event.
And so, as my father would have said, "We're off in a cloud of dry turtle dust."