|Newspaper stand, Broadway|
On Friday night, I had an Improv show at a youth hostel. Throughout the day leading up to the show, I kept thinking about the horror movie Hostel, and feeling twinges of nervousness about getting - you know - murdered or terrorized or something.
Strange, considering that I've never even seen the movie Hostel. But what I have done is spend 9 months working in an actual youth hostel, which was a very pleasant, wonderful, non-terrorizing experience. (There was that one stabbing crime that I unfortunately kinda witnessed and had to give a statement to the Dutch police about, but that was an isolated incident. Promise.) (Also, one time I had to help muck out the hostel's septic tank, one of the grossest and foulest-smelling experiences of my life. But again - an isolated incident. Really, most of my time there was perfectly lovely.)
So it was odd that my fears about our hostel performance should be founded more in fiction than real-life experience. Luckily (and quite obviously) there was nothing to be afraid of - the hostel was a cool place, everyone had a good time and no one got murdered.
Afterwards, my teammates and I walked a couple blocks to grab some pizza and discuss formica table tops, Israel, and the pitfalls of perfectionism. On our way out of the pizza place, we were struck with an idea for a video/sketch. We stood on the sidewalk for a while, brainstorming and scribbling notes into a moleskin, wondering where we could purchase shiny black leotards and neon pink belts for cheap (crucial for the success of the sketch).
Sometimes I wonder why I do Improv - why I keep choosing to invest time, money, and energy into this fleeting performance art. And then moments like Friday night happen, and I remember, "Oh, right." It's because Improv leads to some of the most random, fun times. (And rarely leads to murder.)