Bean There, Done That

This past weekend I was in BosTOWN (not home of the Boss, Bruce Springsteen, though an easy mistake. But rather a very lovely New Englandian place where leaves are more supermodeli-fresh in the Fall compared to leaves in other places and the subway is called the (Mr.) T and some people are intellectuals and some of them have a distinctive accent) for the Boston Improv Festival.

It was a smashing good time and not just because the ladies of Mythical Newsroom are some of the funnest jazzhands party people that I know.

Here is a glamour shot of the lady team. For more of ’em, check out our full photo shoot which we forced on a well-intentioned bystander (ahem, boyfriend) around 2 A.M. at a party (where we often do our best work) one fortuitous night:

From left: Honora, Jenny, Karin, Me.

I. Arrival & Upheaval

Anybeans, so. The trip. Everything started out pretty suspense film/action movie. I left for B-town on Friday morning. Weather? Rainy. Timing? Early. (Imagine this all being typed in the corner of the screen thriller-style).

No flight delays! This was more shocking than if there had been flight delays. I took a cab to my hotel and the driver added secret fees (which I naively paid because I’m a sucker for secret fees in cities I’ve only been to twice before)!

I got to the hotel WAY before the other ladies, way way before…they weren’t due for hours. I’m glad I got there earlier than them because there was an embarrassing incident during check-in (i.eeeee., they couldn’t find my reservation!!!) Several breathtaking moments later…

So it turned out they had my name filed backwards! So they thought Aparna was my last name! So mortifying! If you’d believe it, this exact same thing happened at the last hotel I stayed at so I’m learning to live with it. Luckily, the concierge gave me a fresh warm chocolate chip cookie to call it even. Well, actually she did this for all check-in guests but I chose to interpret it as a gesture of apologetic feeding.

When I got to my room, I got pretty excited as per the usual. So I made a small photo essay.





SOFA BED!!! THIS TOOK ME ONE HOUR TO MAKE!!! (called Boyfie for customer support)

I had so much time to spare, which meant mainly two things on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Neediness: NAP and SHOWER.

II. It’s Showtime (Plus More Behind-the-Scenes Hoopla)

Then I went downstairs to take the shuttle and there was the universe’s cutest and tiniest Puggle puppy being walked outside/aired out. This is important because the puppy was in that really hyper stage of life (in which after one rolls out of the womb and gets one’s bearings, one goes a little crazy with one’s newfound freedom). He was flipping and flopping and zooming and vrooming. The man who was walking him was actually the father of the owner (a mere boykid) so he was all, “Now JUST RELAX for a second, will ya?! You’re goin’ nuts!” as if the puppy responded to Baby Boomer verbiage.

PLUS they were shooting an episode of What Not To Wear in the hotel so people with TV crew headsets were running around everywhere so overall I would rate the entertainment factor a 5 out of 5 whilst waiting for the complimentary shuttle.

Also let me note that the complimentary shuttle dropped me off a 20 minute walk away from where I was actually supposed to be so I showed up later than all three other members of the group, one who had been suffering through a bus stuck in traffic and the other two who were caught all up in flight delays. And I slipped like three times. I feel like B-town needs to put up some yellow “Caution: Slippery” signs everywhere because yo, it was slick. Nothin’ smooth about me traversing those streets.

Our show was real fun. It was also a bit surreal as our venue was a Public Access TV studio. There were other crazy things too like you had to use a key to go to the bathroom BUT THEN you had to buzz back in through this other door to get back to the “stage.” A real debacle for performers and audience alike, not that anyone is answering a ring-a-ling from Nature in the middle of a Mythical show, but just pretend.

There were some partytimes at night. Involving the usual: texting, drinking, more texting, and shouting over noise. I got to hang out with my friend Nancy (who I haven’t seen in YEARSSSSSS) and her significant otro, which was absolutely more than I could ask for because they are both the best!!!

III. A Hard Day’s Play

The next day three out of four of us gals went to workshops. I was one of the three! One of the instructors, Joe Bill, a pretty biggie deal in the improv world thought I was somebody else that he had met before. That was exciting! To be confused with another female Indian improviser who is accomplished and attractive. I’ll take it.

The morning workshop was good, and then Karin went back to the hotel, but Honora and I also had signed up for an afternoon workshop full of bounce and verve with esteemed teachers Jesse Parent and Joe Kyle Rogan. Honora was a shining star of improv, but I got intimidated and therefore wanted my Mommy and a nap.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel room, Karin had nail painted herself into a corner. We literally had to rescue her using nail polish remover and a hotel card key, but she gave us Twizzlers as a reward. Then Karin and I watched Hoarders on A&E until I fell asleep out of fear/confusion and her eyes and ears continued intrepidly onward.

That night, I had a stand up gig at a fun club called Tommy’s Comedy Lounge, where the crowd grew in size throughout the night and everyone was real nice and I didn’t shame D.C. so, all in all, fist pump! Then I rode the T (for the first time) back to join the other ladies.

THEN MORE PARTYTIMES!!! Involving spontaneous dancing and eating two orders of nachos at a table, and not apologizing for it.

This is a picture I sent Boyfie to show how much I missed him. There was a theme of sending sad pictures via text over the weekend so it totally makes sense and I am not codependent, but thanks for reading too much into that.

IV. Funclusion

Then, in the early morning, I jumped in a cab and went back to the voluminous and sleek h’airport. Welcome to the good life.