Day 12: Nicole's Worst Nightmare [Ultimate Extended Edition]

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 11-13, 2009 (USEDT)

Some of you will recall the more concise version of this tale, Status Updates and an eventual Facebook Note at the time somewhat covered the essentials:

From My Facebook Notes:
Nicole's Worst Nightmare
Saturday, June 13, 2009 at 10:59am

If you haven't read the Status Update, my venture from LA to NY has turned out like this:

2 hours sleep, hunger, whirlwind shuttle ride, nausea, no luggage trolley, 70 minute check-in line, delayed flight, missed connection, [met a celebrity, more later,] lack of assistance, 90 minute customer service line, starvation, thirst, lack of cash, crap customer service, lost luggage, no flights, no accommodation, strapped finances, more crap customer service, dodgy payphone [Camp America couldn't hear me], flight booked to Providence [near my Camp but couldn't contact camp], stupidly packed laptop power cord in lost luggage, no internet, expensive airport internet, found dodgy accommodation, shuttle to accommodation, expensive internet, phone not working, collapse into a puddle of tears, blubbering international call to sister, expensive internet prices, long shower, 11 hours sleep, breakfast finished 2 hours earlier than sign says...

Anyhow, have hung out at the hotel all day catching up on things. The up side is that my Camp are thoroughly wonderful and will pick me up at Providence airport Saturday morning. Phew.

So the blog is somewhat of a lost cause right now, sorry. Hoping for internet access at Fuller, but remember I currently have no power cord and so I'm at the mercy of others.

Wish me luck... still have to get my luggage found and transported from JFK airport to my camp... *sigh*

Truly my worst nightmare.

Honest to blog, this was actually and literally my worst nightmare prior to departing on my travels. I had genuine bad dreams about missing planes, losing luggage, etc etc.

So, for those that care, here's the Ultimate Extended Edition:

Tony was kind enough to get up and see me off at sparrowfart, I was kind enough to make him carry some of my luggage.

My shuttle driver was unfortunately and annoyingly chatty for 8am in the morning. While his friendly foreigner-enthusiastic endeavours at passing the heavy LA traffic unscenic airport drive by asking me every cliche Australian trivia question he could possibly come up with was somewhat appreciated, having gotten little to no sleep the night before (self-inflicted, I know), it certainly wasn't welcome.

Also unwelcome was LAX's Departures Terminal charging for the use of their luggage trolleys. How rude. Deciding that was a rip off, I opted to cut off my nose to spite my face and dragged my ample (though far less ample than most, I now know) luggage around. Lucky it wasn't far to the end of the 70-minute-long-wait Check-in line. Wahoo.

I sweated the entire 70 minutes that they were going to smack me with a huge fee for my extra luggage. I'd checked several times what United's domestic baggage allowances were, but the signs in the queue (NB: not a word Americans use, apparently, expect a blank stare and a "Huh?" if you use it) seemed to contradict my confidence that I wouldn't need to pay.

I almost had to until the guy at the counter said "Oh, you've flown in internationally?" checking my passport and Qantas ticket inside, "no problem, you're fine". So I guess being an international tourist gives you a free pass for copious luggage. Sweeeeet.

After the most inconvenient security check I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing, the highlight of this whole frightful nightmare took place. I had thrice perved on a hot young guy that had walked back and forwards from a couple that were obviously his parents before I realised that his face seemed familiar.

I probably hadn't noticed this sooner because, sitting as I was, my eye level was right in line with his absolutely smoking hot ass. Oh, he was wearing a hat too, I'm sure that contributed.

For the life of me though, I couldn't place his face (or his top notch butt). I had to assume he was probably a B-list celebrity of some description, 1) because I was in LA and 2) because he was decked out like a snazzy small-time star. i.e. flatteringly fitted camo pants, flatteringly fitted plain tee and a tipped newsboy cap with hair that, even covered by a stylish hat, was obviously well cut and coloured.

I later decided it was the haircut that threw me off, maybe with the added distraction of that ridiculously attractive set of buns. I spent the better part of my time at the gate trying to figure out who the heck this fella was.

It was upon feeling jealous of all the laptop nerds at my gate that I first realised I had thoughtlessly packed my laptop power cord in my checked baggage. Insert [several] expletives here. Bill Nighy's line in Love Actually springs to mind.


See 0:55 for referenced Billy Nighy's "Billy Mack" character line

Even so, I didn't necessarily think I'd be needing it much being that I was to fly out of LA momentarily and land in New York after a few short stopovers. No sweat... and no need for a laptop right?

My laptop battery is absolutely useless, so after half an hour of unsuccessfully attempting to pick up an unsecured wi-fi connection, I was almost out of charge. Reading was less fun than I usually find it, being squished into an uncomfortable seat in the overcrowded gate lounge. Miserable.

You can imagine then how truly thrilled I was to hear that my LA to San Francisco flight was delayed. Excellent. It was almost certain I would miss my connection from San Fran to Washington/Dulles, which basically guaranteed I would miss my Washington to New York connection too. Great. I approached the desk and explained this inevitable crisis and allowed my naivete to happily accept the United lady's instructions to board the flight and worry about my connection at the other end.

Big mistake. Big. HUGE.

I was momentarily distracted from my panic while finally boarding the aircraft: Hottie McNice-Ass and his company were directly in front of me. This allowed me to overhear his parents speaking in their obviously Australian accents and to see that Mr McNice-Ass was carrying a script. That narrowed down it down a bit: Australian actor with a small-time career in America.

I still couldn't quite knuckle it down but figured it was likely he was "Neighbours" or "Home & Away" alumnus. Neither show have ever been much to my liking, but still, I couldn't ever recall there being anyone remotely that attractive on either soapie. It was driving me crazy!

It turned out we were in the same row of the tiny plane, the second to last row no less. Hottie and his olds took up the three seats on one side while I was in one of the other three seats opposite. As I tried in vain to find space to stow my carry-on where there was none, the mystery man obviously noticed my peril and said "there's still space further back up, let me take it for you", which he did.

When he finally managed to wedge his way back to our corner of the plane he explained where he had squeezed my bag to which I responded with acknowledgement and thanks: "Oh! You're Australian, great!" he says, followed by other typical 'So we're from the same country' cliches. He eventually says "It's great meeting you, I'm Ryan".

Kwanten. Right. Now I've got it.


The new and improved version of Ryan I met





I was on the money: "Home & Away" star who has found some minor fame in The States on a TV series called "Summerland".


The cast of "Summerland", including Ryan, Zac and Jesse

I never knew the name of the show until looking it up just now, but I vaguely recalled seeing an episode of it randomly on TV once upon a time and noting "Yo, there's that Aussie guy on an American version of "Home & Away" with Jesse McCartney and a young Zac Efron". Another funny coincidence in hindsight, he's currently making it big on "True Blood". That damn show is stalking me.

I was now baffled not only by what a thoroughly lovely individual Ryan was, but also how he could possibly make such an enormous departure from the Vinnie character I knew him for. I had always found him dopey and ridiculous in the role, never mind unremarkably unattractive.


Ryan as Vinnie on "Home & Away"

I'm not one for being starstruck, so after a short conversation acknowledging that his faced seemed familiar and asking about how he's doing finding work in Hollywood, I had concluded I wouldn't have any further contact with him. Partly because I'm paranoid about coming across as starstruck with people like him. I won't deny I was intrigued as to what script he was studying the entire flight, but that's just the self-confessed film geek in me.

So it was Ryan who continued our shortlived friendship. So sweet a guy is he that he took the initiative to retrieve my luggage from where he'd put it, chatted our way off the plane, found me again five minutes later when I was walking in circles evidently stumped for what to do next, helped me find an airport staff member who could point me in the right direction, insisted on wheeling my carry-on all the way to the United Help Desk in Departures, then checked half a dozen times that I would be OK before parting company.

Celebrity or not, by far one of the loveliest gentleman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Seriously, just exquisite. His parents didn't bother to hide their obvious pride in him either, who wouldn't.

Henceforth, I will now become an avid fan of "True Blood" despite my cynicism that it's riding on the fame coat tails of "Twilight", just because I wish Ryan so well in everything he does now and in the future.


Ryan in "True Blood"

Maybe being starstruck would have been a good thing at this point, it might have made my panicked, starved, parched, full-bladdered 90 minute wait in line slightly more bearable. One lucky break I caught was that the lady behind me in the line was one of the few sane, mature people enduring the same experience, so after a few shared expressions of exasperation towards the procession of wankers complaining themselves blue in the face, I asked her if she'd mind holding my place in line while I made an urgent trip to the loo and found food and water.

We agreed we'd scratch each other's backs. Phew.

Being an unusually level-headed person that doesn't stress or worry much, I think it was somewhat more alarming to experience the levels of panic that I began to reach when the United representative told me there were next to no suitable flight options for me and that they were not responsible for putting me up overnight because technically the delay was Air Traffic Control's fault, not theirs.

With Camp America administration expecting my arrival in New Jersey, a mini-bus driven by my new boss containing several other international camp staff awaiting me and little to no money to my name (due my car being unsold and my inheritance not yet cleared) on which to thrive on for days without access to internet banking, I was pretty much packin' it.

The only flights United could offer would land me in New York City long after the Camp Fuller bus had departed. That and the very few other options they had on offer would require me to stay at least one or two nights in San Francisco on my own dime, which I had next to no budget for being that I had planned to be fed and put up by Camp America then Camp Fuller for the night and months ahead respectively.

That Billy Mack line comes to mind again.

To really add insult to injury, before taking some time away from the desk to make my decision, I asked where my luggage might be recovered. Recovered! Ha! I might not have made it to JFK Airport, but my luggage already had! If you think that's a joke, how about their system that denies you opportunity to make a Lost Baggage Claim until you've reached your final destination.

Nope, you can't start your claim report application at the airport you're stuck in for God knows how long. And no, you can't fill that paperwork out in any of the three airports they're giving you no choice but to layover in. No, ladies and gentleman, you have to wait the several days until you finally get to where you're going before you begin the long and arduous task of expecting them to make an effort to return your belongings to you.

Unbelievable.

Despite being on the brink of a meltdown, I decided that a call to the Camp America headquarters in New Jersey might bring some much-needed comfort. Expending who-knows-how-many quarters on the interstate phone call was the biggest waste of time I could possibly have ever imagined. Apparently Dopey McNo-Brains couldn't hear/understand me so he decided hanging up on me three times was the best solution.

As camp was not yet in session and it was drawing near the close of business for the day anyhow, there was naturally no answer at Camp Fuller either.

It was after looking at the premium prices for airport internet that I decided now was a pretty good time to dissolve into a puddle of tears. So I did.

Nobody seemed the least bit perturbed by my distress, thank goodness, I wouldn't want to be a burden on anyone. I wouldn't have wanted anyone to ask if I was OK, then they might have felt obligated to let me borrow their cell phone or to give me a few quarters to use. Swingin'!

Through streaming eyes I managed to find my way back to the overpriced internet stations, sit myself down, read the instructions, swipe my debit card, log in to my email and write an email copied to both Camp America and Camp Fuller explaining that neither would be seeing me any time soon.

Next I thanked my lucky stars that Big Sis had extensively educated me in The Ways Of Expedia and booked cheap accommodation at the San Francisco Airport Travelodge with a free airport shuttle.

This buoyed my confidence and helped me pull myself together. My usual strength and common sense followed and I was hit with an idea. My carefactor was zero that dozens of people in the help desk queue gave me the stinkeye as I directly approached my Case Manager at his counter, "OK, I need a flight direct to Providence". He didn't linger on his unhelpful, hindering attitude long after I stared him down and reiterated, "Providence is my only option, you cannot fly me to a city where I have no accommodation or transport to where I need to go, I will wait until you find a way to get me to Rhode Island".

And that he did.... while I hoped that Camp Fuller would be willing to come and pick me up when I finally made contact!

With my eyes and nose pink from crying, my flight booked, my tickets printed (yeah, there were three, one for each connection!) and pride in my heart, I marched my way out of Departures to the Arrivals terminal to find my free shuttle. Obviously you get what you pay for with cheap motels, the information on their site was incorrect, dialing #56 on the shuttle phone most definitely did not connect me with their Shuttle Request Line.

I was pretty much ready to deck somebody by the time I'd tried phoning five times, done four laps of Arrivals, walked up and down the shuttle bays and eventually found an indifferent shuttle marshall who told me booking was unnecessary, I just had to wait till one with "Travelodge" came along. I'm sure by that time I'd already missed four of the "Every 15 Minutes" opportunities.

The owner-manager of the motel was almost the lucky recipient of my desired decking when I discovered he not only wanted a bond in cash but also that their wi-fi was down. All I wanted to do at that point was lie down and not wake up again. I was broke, exhausted, scared, hungry, thirsty, hot and sticky and horribly lonely.


If I look sad, pathetic and lonely that's because I WAS!

My desperate desire to shower and sleep were outweighed by my desperate need to be comforted by my sister who I knew was regularly checking her email enough to know by that time that I was stranded and upset. After dumping my bag in my room and guzzling possibly a litre of water, I made the longest two hundred metre walk I've ever made to the nearby service station and procured a phone card.

Perhaps I should have called Jaime at Fuller prior to talking to my sister, because I pretty much fell apart the moment I heard Jenny's "Hi Cole". I had little credit to make both the call to Jenny and to Jaime, so the comfort was shortlived. We made arrangements to correspond via the overpriced internet in the motel foyer and I attempted to pull myself together enough to leave a voicemail at Fuller.

Jaime has never commented on the message I left, much to her credit. While I convinced myself at the time that I mostly covered my blubbering well during the hurried minute-long message, I highly doubt that was the case. I was a mess, I'm certain that was evident.

I think I managed to expel most of the necessary snot and tears by sobbing throughout my entire overlong shower. A dodgy cup of tea made with the crappy machine in my room and half an hour lying prostrate watching bad television was enough to get me back on my feet and around the corner to the semi-detached iHop behind the Travelodge office.

I officially now worship at the altar of iHop. It was there for me in my time of need. I completely understand the sentimentality featured in movies I've seen over the years:

It's a classic diner-type "meal-deal" family restaurant where the portions are oversized and the prices cheap.

As if I wasn't relieved enough to find an airconditioned, comfortable, uncrowded, quiet and homely place where I could buy a substantial amount of food for a low price, my waitress was like a Guardian Angel. The fact that her nametag told me her name was "Deb" wasn't the only reason she reminded me of my beloved faux-mum, short and squat and all warmth and kindness, I had to refrain from jumping up and giving her a hug.

She took better care of me than she needed to. Apart from being quick on the uptake and adding "sweetheart" to every sentence she addressed me with, she supplied me with ample conversation and kindness plus a free bottomless cup of tea despite it not being part of my four course dinner deal.

Four chapters of "Wuthering Heights" and $13.86 later I was full as a goog with food and drink to spare. Well fed and far more settled, I slept in as close to checkout as I possibly could with time to spare for a shower. I then spent my whole day hanging out in the Travelodge lobby, corresponding with Jaime and Jenny via expensive email, watching random television, finally properly getting into "Wuthering Heights" and demolishing over half of the puzzle book that I'm terribly grateful Steph put in my going-away package.

I appreciated another meal deal at iHop for dinner again and, starved for company as I was, had an extensive D&M with my favourite waitress. Upon discovered the details of my predicament, Deb confirmed she'd noticed how forlorn I was and that if she'd known my circumstances she'd have "taken me home with her for a homecooked meal and a comfy bed". So sweet!

Another free shuttle and a few more laps of San Fran airport and I was geekily hours too early for my plane. This didn't prevent me from jumpily checking and re-checking the flight board on more occasions than I'd wish to admit. My newbie senses were well worth it though, would you possibly believe that I was unlucky enough again that my gate changed without an announcement?

A quick sprint to the opposite end of Departures and I shotgunned the last good seat. I was thoroughly pleased until the announcement that this flight would now be delayed too. Nope, I'm not kidding, do I sound amused to you?

At least I'd learned my lesson after the San Fran Help Desk had informed me that I should never have boarded the original plane in LA, that United would have had to find me a new flight from there and it probably would have been a more direct and quick one too. I was prepared this time and my luck was looking up with a super helpful rep behind this gate counter. At first he ensured me the half an hour delay wouldn't impact on my connection given the ninety minutes I had upon arrival in Washington/Dulles.

But minutes later he called me back up and said he'd changed my flight to a shorter and safer connecting route so I could be guaranteed no further trouble. Another sprint to yet another corner of the airport and I was on an undelayed flight with only one layover in Chicago. It almost sounds pleasant when I put it that way, like disembarking an overlong, uncomfortable, overnight flight in Chicago airport at 5am and nodding off in a rock-hard gate lounge seat for seventy minutes before boarding the most abominable aircraft you'll ever see is an enjoyable experience.

I also elected to starve to death as a result of the most disgustingly overpriced airport food and drink in existence was my only option.

I actually teared up when the hostess's voice chimed "Welcome To Providence". Welcome indeed. I nearly hugged my neighbour but she already looked freaked out enough by the unexplained look of sheer delight I was wearing.

That quickly wore off when I received the memo that we were almost an hour late in landing and that the carry-on luggage they had forced all passangers to check in had been sent to the wrong carousel. That and the fact that I couldn't find the well-hidden, out-of-the-way Baggage Claim Office saw to my desire for knocking someone's lights out rearing its ugly head again.

I must have cut at least nine laps of the Arrivals terminal running between the area where the office was supposed to be, the understaffed enquiries desk, the carousel where I was waiting for my bag to appear and the carousel where my Camp Fuller chauffeur was no doubt waiting for me to appear.

I must have passed poor Alex a dozen times whilst walking in circles hunting down and collecting my carry-on bag, getting directions from the enquiries desk, finding the Baggage Claim Office, making my report and eventually awkwardly making eye contact with the bearded young guy in a bright yellow shirt who appeared to have been stalking me for the entire time.

I blame Alex for not sporting something obviously "Camp Fuller" or waving a dorky sign with my name on it or something.

In his defence, Alex is also a noob at Fuller (i.e. no old Staff shirts to throw on) and got little to no notice of being sent on a chauffeur mission to wait for the hopeless Aussie that missed the bus she was supposed to be on in the first place. He explained that the bright yellow shirt was his way of standing out.

And at long last, my blog has finally arrived at my current destination: Camp Fuller, Rhode Island.

Next up, find out what greeted me at the end of the awkward car ride with two Fuller Noobs: one who wasn't aware for 95% of the trip that he was transporting a Key Staff Member and hence spoke to his passenger as if she were to be regular Counselor and the other who had lost her luggage and was completely shattered having just spent the better part of the last 48 hours on planes, panicked, stressed, tired, frightened and lonely.

P.S. If you'e surprised by the lack of the lack of photos in this post then you need to take a long hard look at the one photo I did take then ask yourself why.

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Day 11: Last Day LA

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 10, 2009 (USPDT)

So my final day in Los Angeles isn't exactly an editorial to get too excited about.

Mostly it was a day of getting organised and tying up loose ends. This basically meant: getting some much-needed washing done, making sure I have everything packed, making a list of things I might need, going out and about to get a few things that couldn't wait, hitting a few favourite spots, doule-checking my travel plans to Camp Fuller, triple-checking my flight details, packing my bags in a suitably airport-friendly way... and so on and so forth...

Washing was an adventure in and of itself. I had not yet learned that guests aren't allowed to use the washing machines prior to 3pm as the cleaning staff use them. Bugger. Had to hang about and stalk from afar later in the afternoon as time was creeping up on me and a nervous first-time traveller like me obviously wants to be packed several hours too early.

When I did get around to it later in the day, I felt like I was in a movie using coin slots and the suchlike in a communal area. Heeeheeee.

As far as real events for the day go...

I went back and settled on the white hi-top Nike shoes I mentioned previously and was thrilled to get such a great buy at such a cheap price, US$59 ladies and gentleman!

I picked up bits and pieces around the place and found at least thirty t-shirts I wanted to buy, vowing they'd get another look-in on my return to LA, prior to departing for Oz later in the year.

I swung by the Grauman's-Highlands district again for lunch and general shenanigans. Truly a favourite spot on the planet for me.


One last Hollywood Tourist shot (probably not THE last, let's face it)

I ran into a close friend of Nikki's while in the area:



While waiting for my bus I decided to grab an iced mocha from the McDonald's that always tempts me behind that bus stop. I loved that even the Macca's is Hollywoodified with movie star portraits, signs, lights and other random paraphernalia:





With all that and washing done, multiple checks of my luggage completed and necessary paperwork printed and ready, I booked an airport shuttle for 8am the next morning. All set.

Tony and his buddy Tarwin arrived back from San Francisco bringing with them Tarwin's friend Miki, who's a whole can of awesome. It was settled that we'd skip the hostel party and spend the evening in Santa Monica. Woot! I hadn't yet managed a proper trip to this much-desired spot yet.

A ridiculously long car ride and several silly magnetic word games with Tony later and we were sitting on Santa Monica Beach at twilight. Toooooo nice.

Just to add some colour there was a helicopter doing low circled laps of the water a ways out, which we were left to assume was some kind of search. A rather morbid form of entertainment, for our part, if it was indeed something emergent going on... *tugs at collar*

After a visit to the parking meter, Tarwin had picked up another friend and we were all seated in a flash at a super groovy restaurant in the middle of the main street. The food was great and the ambience even better. I did Karen proud by ordering one of their fancy beers: Leffe, check! I even tried a sip of Miki's weird chocolate beer. Thanks, but no thanks.

We toured down to the stunning Santa Monica Pier from there, a little late to see any of the really good stuff it offers, but it was beautiful nonetheless. I successfully made Tony like me a little less by choosing to drive while the others walked. Parking was a nightmare, Tony pretended he didn't mind.

Meandering about on Santa Monica Pier was a fairly perfect way to spend my final night in LA.

Highlights were the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company shop ("Forrest Gump" Fan For Life!), the enormous flapping fish a guy caught and let flap around on the deck a while and Miki harassing another fisherman until he offered to let her take a turn casting, only to get it caught and tangled and everything else she could possibly do wrong with a fishing rod. Hysterical.




Flappy fish! (You probably had to be there to feel any enthusiasm)

Another ridiculously long drive and some GPS navigation fun and we saw the rest of the night out at the hostel, then it was up at sparrowfart for me and off to the airport.

And y'all know what the next installment will be. Epic, you know it. Epic.

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Review: "Oleanna" At The Mark Taper Forum, Los Angeles

It should be said, not for commentary's sake but as an apt introduction, that just attempting to make a start on this blog has been a challenge in and of itself.

Having just typed but not yet published my previous post ("Day 10: From Johnny To Julia") about the day's events surrounding seeing "Oleanna", I was totally pumped to make an immediate start on reviewing the play itself.

I couldn't find anywhere to start.

I scanned the internet for amateur reviews that would remind me of the experience in the hopes of being inspired with a worthy opening to my review that would provoke an ongoing flow of editorial to do the play justice. Nope, that just got me more stuck. Every review I read seemed to not even touch on the greatness of the performance, never mind the brilliance of the plot.

I then tried the opposite avenue and read an array of proper critic reviews. This just frustrated me more because critics have their superior heads so far up their tight arses that nothing they had to say even remotely shed light on the wonder. All their reviews offered was a collection of verbal vomit made up of too many adjectives, empty philosophy, vague cynicism and an absence of any real original opinion in an apparent effort to display their own genius.

What these two attempts at inspiration did spawn was a passion to write a genuine from-the-heart commentary of a terrific piece of theatre with a mindblowingly provoking plot expertly and breathtakingly performed by two truly talented actors.

First but not obviously foremost, the set design and lighting was masterful. The Mark Taper Forum isn't exactly a big or fancy space. It's your typical and simple small theatre, nice but basic. The use of venetian blinds adjusted for each new scene backed by mood lighting was subtle but skilled.

Bill Pullman takes on the role of John, a professor anxiously waiting for the university to sign off on his tenure. He’s buying a house with his wife, who keeps phoning him with updates during his fraught meeting with Carol, a struggling student with a pressure-cooker temperament, played by Julia Stiles.



Most people would know Julia, "Ten Things I Hate About You", "Save The Last Dance", "The Prince & Me", the "Bourne" trilogy and a cascade of other popular movies credit her with widespread fame. Bill Pullman, for those that don't know, would be best known for smaller parts in "A League Of Their Own" and "Sleepless In Seattle" followed by bigger parts in "Independence Day" as the President, "Brokedown Palace" and "Titan A.E.".

Julia is actually reprising the role of Carol, having already starred in "Oleanna" on West End back in 2004.

Basic synopsis: "Oleanna" is a two character play about the power struggle between a college professor and one of his female students who accuses him of sexual harassment and, by doing so, ruins his entire career in one fell swoop. Whether or not the accusation is right or wrong is essentially the central theme of the story and is, of course, a matter of opinion.

I'll be presumptuous and speak on behalf of [what I believe to be] the sane majority and say that you initially feel the accusation is wrongful and that Carol is an evil little witch.

As the story presses on your mind involuntarily begins to change and you find yourself having slightly harder feelings towards the professor without necessarily growing in affection or sympathy for the malicious student.

By the conclusion of the play you're so gobsmacked by the events that take place that you can't help but pity Carol somewhat and find disgust in John's actions. At the same time his actions seem deserved and inevitable. The complete sprectrum and revolution of feelings that you experience throughout the show and especially at its closing is like nothing I could have anticipated or imagined. I was so blown away and provoked that I wanted to immediately either study philosophy and/or psychology or take up acting.



I was so jazzed and intrigued by not only the performance but the content discussed by the fictional characters that I had trouble sleeping that night.

For example, a central topic of conversation between the two characters as both a sidebar and an eventual relevant issue is "Higher Education is Hazing". While I would generally have felt, without ever having given it much thought, that this is an overzealous, cynical take on a subject not requiring much debate, the play really got me considering the ideas put forward by both the professor and his student.

* Hazing - for those that don't watch too much American entertainment and/or abuse popular American lanugage and/or are spending the better part of the year in the USA, the definition of hazing is: a ritualistic test and a task involving harassment, abuse or humiliation used as a way of initiating a person into a gang, club, military organization or other group (i.e. frequently used in the context of college fraternities and sororities and their initiations for joining).

"Oleanna" is often referred to as Mamet's "sexual harassment play" which is really an unfair and shallow label. Sure, there are allegations of sexual harrassment made within the play, but there are allegations of much more than that made within the play too. One valid contribution that the stuffy pro critics contributed was, in so many words, that the work is essentially dissecting how easily the American dream can be twisted into a personal nightmare.

In light of the fact that "Oleanna" was written on the heels of the Clarence Thomas Senate hearings regarding allegations made by Anita Hill, I think Mamet did an absolute killer job of unabashedly reflecting how damaging misplaced passion can be.

In a brief first act, John and Carol have an impromptu meeting in John's office. John is on the receiving end of a litany of phone calls from his wife about the new home he is attempting to close Escrow on. This constantly interrupts and disrupts the meeting and one can see Carol becomes increasingly frustrated as their discussion about her inability to understand his lectures rolls on. John, however, sees something familiar in Carol and one gets the impression that he feels, for the first time in many years, that he might actually be able to make a difference in the life of a student. He challenges her to think, to bust pre-conceived ideas and comforts her when it all becomes too much for her to bear.

The result of which is a second act that introduces Carol in a whole new light. The above-mentioned accusations have now taken place, plus reviews of the professor by the college's tenure board and the almost-loss of his beloved new house. Both John's cell phone and office line continue to hinder fluent conversation between the two as he tries in vain to get the now bold and confident Carol to see reason... to no avail.

The next several scenes all follow the same downward spiral, where Carol continues to evolve from her original fragmented self into a verbose monster of a feminist and John begins to visibly fall apart at the seams.

Pullman's John is full of uncertainty, about himself and others. He has a difficult time standing up to his wife and realtor in their unending phone calls. His halting speech and baffled nature end up being no match for Carol's streaming accusations, despite her own limited vocabulary. On the contrary, John is not the entitled elitist he is accused of being by Carol and her nefarious "group." He is someone who struggled to get where he his, is uncertain he even deserves it now and, despite statements to the contrary, feels it could all be wiped away at any moment.

And then it is.

He is a character to be pitied, even as he is difficult to identify with. I have never tried to picture Bill Pullman as a stage actor, but I was impressed with this interpretation of John and the neurotic vulnerability he wrapped the character up in.

Julia Stiles, while always having always been a favourite of mine, has often bugged me as a result of habitually delivering lines in a way that says "I'm so intelligent that I will only speak in monotone, but I will occasionally colour my performance with a cringe-worthy shriek to really make a point". And thus was frequently the case during the first act and some of the second act of her performance. Not that I'm necessarily criticising.



She really only seemed to break out of this pattern and assume a powerful character about midway through the second act, when the scene between Carol and John became quite heated and minor violence began to ensue. But when she got there it was something to behold and thoroughly worth waiting for.

Possibly one of the greatest theatrical moments I have had the privilege of witnessing came early in the final Act in the form of five words perfectly executed by Julia as the now Goliath figure of Carol:

After a scene where John attempts to restrain Carol to prevent her exiting the room, the two are again in another scene of tug-o-war in trying to make the other see their side of the sexual harassment allegations when John receives yet another phone call. It is clearly evident that John has received some alarmingly bad news. In complete shock and horror John puts down the phone and splutters something along the lines of "What... how... when... how could you? The police?"

Carol responds with "I thought you knew..." followed by a long and dramatic pause and "... you tried to rape me".

The reaction of the audience was visceral. My audible gasp was one among dozens, not to mention several verbal outcries followed by widespread whispering and murmuring. It was like being in a courtroom where some vital and damning evidence has just been revealed by a star witness. I think I actually had butterflies.

Rock on, Julia.

The final showdown between Carol and John is so shattering that it left the audience in stunned silence, even Julia seemed to have trouble shaking it off after the curtain call. I had actually wondered while reading the programme prior to the show why they needed a choreographer. I thought it was just something new and enlightening I was learning, that not just regular stage direction was necessary at such a professional level, but also expert choreography.

Nope, the closing scene made it infinitely clear why the production required a choreographer.

By this time John is so frazzled and messed up that his physical appearance has even deteriorated. His frustration is now entirely unhidden and his character unsympathetic and irrational. All this culminates in a literal and actual physical fight scene that ends with some colourful language, an actual attempt at rape and Julia thrown over furniture into a fetal position on the floor. One thing I wasn't quite prepared for was the use of the "unspeakable" swear word. As if the dialogue, the plot and the violence wasn't shocking enough, the c-word can usually make my heart skip a beat on a regular day!

The audience is worked up into a state of such righteous indignation that John's final outburst of physical violence is made to seem, if not justifiable, well, then, somehow understandable. But his exhilaration is brief, by getting John to beat her up, Carol has won by losing (the ultimate in female passive-aggressiveness): she has gotten him to seal his own doom. "Yes, that's right," are her - and the play's - final words.

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Sidenote: Change In My Life

So I was just having a massive D&M ("Deep & Meaningful") with my cabin full of teenage girls about everything from diversity to leadership to religion and, after a week of trying to get it out of my head, the song "Change In My Life" came gallavanting back into the sticky section of my brain as a result of Sonia unfortunately said those exact words.

Now, after an hour of having Hanson's awe-inspiring a capella version of it doing laps of my skull, I thought I'd give it some props since sometimes the brilliance of the lyrics and the depth of my affection for them can be forgotten amidst the overplaying it is involuntarily abused with.

Standing cold and scared
On top of Blue Hill
There came one moment
When I lost my will
I prayed for mercy
Please, Lord, take me away
Give me sunshine
When I only see gray

The past had a hold on me
It can't be denied
And the changes don't come easily
Don't you know

I've been lonely
I've been cheated
Been misunderstood
I've been washed up
Put down
And told I'm no good
But with you I belong
'Cause you help me be strong
There's a change in my life
Since you came along

Woah, woah...
Woah, woah, yeah

Now, I don't mind working
So hard everyday
And I don't pay no mind
To what people say, no, no
Because after all
The pain I've been through
I'd give up everything
Just to love only you

All my life, I've held my
Head bent in shame
But now I've found you
And with you I remain
Don't you know

I've been lonely
I've been cheated
Been misunderstood
I've been washed up
Put down
And told I'm no good
But with you I belong
'Cause you help me be strong
There's a change in my life
Since you came along

Now, a man gets crazy
When his life is all wrong
And a heart gets weary
Where it doesn't belong
When the road gets rocky, Lord
You've got to keep on
Let the new light come
Shining on through
Don't you know

I've been lonely
I've been cheated
Been misunderstood
I've been washed up
Put down
And told I'm no good
But with you I belong
'Cause you help me be strong
There's a change in my life
Since you came along

Woah, woah...
Woah, woah, yeah
Woah, woah...
Woah, woah, yeah...

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Comment Problems: No More Word Verification

So I turned off the "Word Verification" security bizzo for Commenting in the hopes this might help with the problems people have been having.

Let me know on my Facebook if this doesn't fix anything.

Here's to hoping that turning off this anti-spam option doesn't bite me in the butt.

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Day 10: From Johnny To Julia

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 9, 2009 (USPDT)

So many of my Facebook Friends will recall that at this particular time I was agonising over how to spend one of my final nights in LA as I had gotten myself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Rock = Blink182 Rooftop Concert at Jimmy Kimmel Live that I had booked a ticket for days before

Hard Place = Julia Stiles' play "Oleanna"

I had been wanting to go to Jimmy Kimmel Live regardless but had been thrilled when I researched tickets and found he was having one of his rare rooftop specials. With Blink no less, a somewhat legendary band of our era and a band that had somewhat been on hiatus for some time prior to this regrouping. I'm not much of a Blink fan, never really was, but it sounded like a pretty fantastic opportunity. I was really looking forward to it.

But then, somehow I can't remember, I came across "Oleanna". I really can't recall how the play came to my attention, I feel like my sister had something to do with it, but by the time I knew about it my only options to see it were this Tuesday night or the Wednesday night.

As I was leaving Wednesday night open for other plans, I had no choice but to choose one or the other for this night.

Arriving back at my room from WB late on the Monday afternoon, I met my new group of roomies. First I met Lisa, 26, from England who was off to a Summer Camp in Massachusetts she had been working at for several years. Tops! We bonded over camp anticipation and sucky American deoderant. She was also impressed by my knowledge of the Hollywood turf and requested I help her out with some tourism.

Lisa exited to do some washing and minutes later the Aussie Fraser sisters entered. Also off to a Summer Camp on the East Coast, Felicity, Billie and Carissa also contributed some excellent bonding: add Twilight, Harry Potter and general cultish obsessions this time. They also expressed interest in my Hollywood experience.

Lisa returned and all five of us had our own little "Woohoo Camp!" party while making plans to tourist together the next day, as I said, with me at the helm!

The girls weighed in on my difficult choice: useless, it was a dead heat. 2 and 2. It was at this point that you Facebookers would have been casting your votes in response to my posted agony.

Which brings me to the events of this day's post: Tourist Tuesday.

We ate our free continental breakfast together down in the Tiki Garden and tried to convince Lisa to have some vegemite on toast while I made my final decision on how I would spend my Tuesday night: Julia had it.

After having received important votes from key people such as Nikki, Deb and Sister Jen, I opposed the shunning of the Blink fans and rationalised that I'd never have a chance to see Oleanna again, whereas not only would Jimmy and Blink still be there in the future, but I could probably watch it later on YouTube anyhow.

I phoned and booked a ticket with epic enthusiasm then hit the road with Camp Party.

As I had told the girls previously, there would be a movie filming right outside the hostel this day, as per a notice posted by the production on the hostel notice board. I've completely forgotten the name of this b-grade production, but we hung around as long as we possibly could without looking foolish. All we really saw was the catering tent and a heap of equipment, it was too early in the day to see any real action. I'm pretty sure they filmed at the little Thai restaurant though.

Then off to Tourist Central it was!

We strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, stopping in stores and snapping photos aplenty. I showed the girls all my favourite spots and pointed out Kyra's brand spanking new Star.

Eventually we landed in The Highlands block where I pointed out all the best Hands & Feet at Grauman's, bragged about seeing a movie there, showed them the best souvenir shop (where we spent a substantial amount of time obsessing), laughed at the characters dressed up, then headed into The Highlands shopping plaza itself.

One thing I had missed previously, the Star Trek square, I hadn't seen the sweet plaque and the sheer size of it on my other visits:

I was thrilled that my party were as hyped by Johnny Rockets as I was. We agreed to eat lunch there, much to my satisfaction. Choosing what to eat was an adventure in itself. We took ridiculous amounts of ridiculous photos and gratefully accepted silly hats from our waiter. A total hoot all in all!

I was again ecstatic that my company appreciated Hot Topic as much as I did. The girls weighed in again: I purchased the coveted Transformers tank. Sweeeeeet!

Our shopping and touristing was extensive. A totally great day had by all.

Lisa left us to meet a friend and us Aussies crossed the road to Disney's Soda Fountain. I entered with my girls back home close to my heart. In spite of not being much of a Disney enthusiast myself, I had a blast looking at all the merchandise and taking photos to show my Disney Fan girls. I wanted to buy them all three of everything.

I had to leave my party behind at this point and head back to get ready for my much-anticipated Julia play.

Metro.Net didn't fail me, I managed to walk-bus-walk my way to Downtown LA's "Walt Disney Music Center", to the "Mark Taper Forum" specifically.

The plaza encased by the Mark Taper Forum and the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was a beautiful place to sit and chill while waiting for the show to start:

Watching my budget closely, I gave the fancy al fresco cafe a miss and just grabbed a quick bite from the little snack shop. I sat myself on a pretty little park bench nearby the valet parking and watched all the rich people arrive at the fancy Music Center. I listened to a table of middle-aged women gripe about their overpaid husbands and exhausting lives of parties and cotilions. One of these women was currently facing a terrible difference of opinion with her spouse: to use the seventh bedroom in their brand new custom home as a study or a second guest room. Oh peril!

After the copious amounts of heavy food we'd put away at lunch, my iced tea and apple were not in the least bit disappointing. A detox, I'd go as far as to say. What I wasn't prepared for was for my beverage to karma harassing me. I look down at my glass bottle at one point only to find it shouting at me "For good karma, recycle!".

So abrupt! If I wanted a karma bashing or an environmental lecture I'd have asked, thanks.

The inanimate object redeemed itself with the trivia under the lid though. We all know I love any variety of good fart humour, well, my lid informed me of the origin of the term "Bronx Cheer". A term I'd previously learned from the print on Whoopee Cushions but never truly understood. Love it.

Another highlight of the evening was the saxophone busker. He stood there and played his heart out like there was no tomorrow. I was completely captivated by him. I was thinking of you Deb.

Finally, it was almost showtime. I managed to snap some illegal photos of the stage, a-teehee!

While I will save a specific review of the play for its own post, I wonder if words can describe how absolutely phenomenal this experience was for me and how unbelievably brilliant this performance was. By far a highlight of my entire trip as a whole, I don't doubt.

For now I'll just say: wow, kudos Julia and Bill.

I'll also continue not to hold back the depth of my dorkishness and confess to what a thrill it was to see such a talented celebrity in the flesh. To see her but a number of metres away, doing what she does best.... just, wow. It was a buzz I can't articulate. And that's saying something! LOL.

I decided to go all out with my obsesso-geek tourism and go round to the stage door afterwards. Expecting the typical spectacle of such a thing, I was confounded that nobody was back there waiting. Sure, plenty of you are just thinking "yes, that's because you're a loser Nicole", but I care not. I've done this sort of thing before, I literally cannot believe nobody was interested.

Eventually a teenage guy and his parents joined me and I overheard their conversation about the boy going to school with Bill Pullman's son and that Bill had invited them along during their sons' graduation the night before. Sure enough, Bill came out a short while later and welcomed them inside.

Yep, you're damn right I grabbed an autograph and photo. He was lovely and incredibly warm. Handsome too, for an old fella. Haha.

I asked the lady inside the stage door if Julia would be coming out soon. She said she should be and that she'd let her know she had a visitor. I didn't care at all that I looked like a loser, I was going to get to meet one of my favourite actors.

I literally cannot believe my bad luck: a while later the stage door lady came back out and apologised that Julia must have already left through the side door. She told me that this never happens, Julia often stays around to hang out backstage and that she had only left in a hurry because she had "commitments".

The next part just rubbed salt in the wound, Stage Door Lady told me that Julia never has people wait at the door for her and that she knows Julia would have been thrilled and most definitely would have come out to chat and take a photo. I would have much preferred to hear that Julia always rushes off quickly and that she most likely wouldn't have bothered to come out anyway.

The whole thing was clarified the next day too: Chris told me that he'd seen Julia on the TV on an early morning breakfast show giving an interview about "Oleanna".

What are the odds?! Dang and bollocks. Big, BIG bollocks!

But still, I'm just happy to have had the chance to see such a profound work of art and to have such a great story to tell in the future. Not to mention that Jen is an even bigger fan of Julia than me so I'm glad to give her the experience vicariously through me!

As a sidenote: I am super proud of myself for finding my way around LA. I won't deny that walking around Downtown LA late at night to find my return bus and walking from the bus to the hostel was a wee bit on the freaky side, but I did it... without getting lost or even going for a bumsteer. I have not only conquered public transport, but foreign navigation too!

I couldn't have done it without the sheer luck of a second unit filming crew being on the sidewalk filming pacing shots. Not only did they help point me in the right direction, but one of them was also an Aussie guy that grew up in the Blue Mountains. Small world.

The gathering of cats behind the bus stop was a tad on the freaky side too.

So standby for my next post, dedicated solely to raving about my awesome celebrity theatre expeience and the wonders of Julia Stiles.

P.S. As usual, extra pics in my Flickr for the enthusiasts (of the Disney kind especially).

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