La Veta Loco
During the past two incarnations (2004 and 2006) of E.I.T.M, our director, Johnny Ashton, mentioned his desire to take it on the road to La Veta, Colorado. Each time it was mentioned we cast members would look towards the ceiling, or suddenly remember that we had forgotten to write something very important in our Blackberries. Anything to buy time for someone else to come up with an excuse to not be able to go.
Me: Oooh, uh, yeah, I’m probably going to be…um…shit, did I not right that down…? Excuse me.
Arp: I can’t. I’ll be in Taxidermy school.
Morgan: No can do. My neighbor is having my 4th child.
Casperson: La Veta? With this beard? Are you out of your mind?!
And alas, the prospect would fade away.
This go around, however, no one came up with a valid reason not to go. Which either makes a bold statement about our extremely poor lying-on-the-fly skills, or, as I choose to believe, we were meant to go at this point in time. For all intents and purposes, this third production was our last. Our little, bearded brotherhood was disbanding for good. And while other roles may have offered more “challenge” or “praise” for me individually, I can honestly say that in my 18 years as an actor, I have never enjoyed enjoyed my time with a cast more. What better way to turn the page on the final chapter of a journey that has supplied us with so many laughs and giggles than to take the show on the road.
Despite the fact that we were all confirmed to go on the trip, the situation of sleeping arrangments was kind of left up in the air, which for a group of actors (or maybe just me) is like flipping on a psychotic switch in their imaginations.
Here is a paraphrased version of the original sleeping explanation Ashton gave us:
Ashton: So…here’s how it’ll kind of work. ‘Dere are three bedrooms upstairs. We have an air mattress, and a small sofa. Of course there is also the floor.
This is the version processed through the actor’s imagination:
Ashton: Well, it looks like we’ll have a couple of prison cots upstairs. Bill and Heidi can take one. Just remember to bring a bunch of extra sheets because a handicapped woman was murdered with a butcher’s knife on the one you’ll being sleeping on, and it’s still covered with blood stains that the flies (more on that later) love to feast on even though it’s been over a week since the murder happened. Now Michael, I went and staked it out and I think you can sleep out in the alley in a sleeping bag. The dumpster next to the building should provide enough of a windbreak. You’ll just have to keep an eye out for the Kodiak bears that like to rummage through the trash during the pitch black of night. Arpy, I figured you could sleep in the tub, since it can’t be used due to the lack of plumbing. And Tupper, well, I just figured he could sleep wherever he fell. On a final note, I want to warn you about the La Veta serial killer…
Stupid actors.
Well, as you can see…the accommodations were quite the opposite of dank. Stooopid actors.
In fact, the Parkside was rather swank and quite comfortable. With the one exception being the upstairs bathroom which had a fly and stinkbug issue the likes of which haven’t been seen since THE AMITYVILLE HORROR.
My confusion about how such a colony of insects were surviving and propagating, despite the frigid winter temperatures, was alleviated when Jodi (the red-eyed demon pig who lives in the attic) explained to me while I was sitting on the toilet that it is only in the summer months that they steal the inhabitant’s souls. Whew!
I had high hopes of capturing the beautiful scenery of the Spanish Peaks and made my first journey towards the hills on my initial morning in town. I would have shot more were it not for the “Perfect Storm” type winds and the fact that Michael Morgan, through some type of Morgan-esque witchery, convinced me that scrambled eggs were a far more interesting subject to focus on.
And low and behold, by the time we arrived back at base camp, my lovely wife, Heidi, and newly crowned Chef, John Arp, were already hard at work crafting scrambled eggs and other breakfast paraphernalia.
I have to give credit where credit it due. Morgan was right.
Of course, any journey, long or short, exotic or just up the road is not so much measured by the locale itself, but even more importantly the quality of the folks you’re traveling with. On this account I was wealthy indeed.
Okay, enough for now. You get the picture.
