7 March, 2008
I woke up several times during the night. I had gone to bed at 11, hoping to conk out until my alarm went off the next morning, but I was not granted the pleasure of blissful ignorance of night’s passing. I woke up at two in the morning, my alarm clock staring me in the face, and my pager charger on my head where it had fallen sometime during the few hours I had slept already. I thought I had heard it going off. I literally jumped out of bed, my heart pounding, and did a vigorous stretch in the cool air. I realized that the blaring chirrup my clock usually makes was only in my head, I muttered a few nasty insults at it, and burrowed back down further into my covers. I was in a cave of warmth in the cool dorm room I inhabit at KUA. I slept for about two more hours before the alarm clock in my head went off again. This time, remembering myself, I looked at the clock to make sure what time it was. Once again, I muttered at the clock, and went back to sleep again until about fifteen minutes before my real alarm went off. I was tired, but excited. I went through my suitcase again, deliberating on what to bring and what not to bring. I packed and unpacked several times, and after about the fifth time, I decided that I did not need half the stuff I wanted to bring, and so put the pile half away, and half remained on my bed to go with me to Vermont on the way back. I don’t know why I woke up so early, but I think it might have been better if I had slept until eight. At any rate, I would not have been able to sleep longer with the sun shining in my window. I went downstairs and woke up Tara by accident at 8 o’clock forgetting that we did not depart until 9:30. She was very good natured about it, but I felt horrible afterwards. I had parked my car up at the store the night before after getting pulled out by Chief Best and Greg and the Zamboni man, and cleaned it off of the frost that had accumulated overnight, but was already being melted off by the sun. I went back to my dorm and watched some episodes of LPTV (Linkin Park TV) on YouTube and did stuff on Facebook to kill some time. At 9 o’clock when the Dining Hall opened, I went downstairs once more to knock on Tara’s door. I offered to take her suitcase over to Flickinger because she wasn’t going to breakfast. She assented, and so I put her stuff in the trunk, went back up to my room to gather all my stuff up, and had an OCD moment. I was still trying to decide if I wanted to take my obnoxious KUA duffle bag that I could never miss on a luggage conveyor belt, and whether or not I had packed everything I would want and need. I sat there for about two minutes and finally decided that I did not need the two wooly sweaters that would ultimately decide my luggage choice, and laid them on my bed, awaiting my return. I lugged my stuff over to my car, Roxanne and put the lot in the trunk. Then I got in my car, started her up, and went over to Flickinger.

A bunch of people were there already, including Gracie, Maggie and Kay (Ms. McCabe). Our Fearless Leader (Mr. Stern) arrived moments later with his daughter, Rachel. After exchanging greetings and marveling about how this trip was actually happening, I dropped off Tara and my luggage and went over to get some food before we set off. There were my favorite scones for breakfast (chocolate chip!), which I took as a good sign. I got a cup of hot chocolate to accompany my three scones, and settled myself down at a table where I could see everyone come in. After a while, I was joined by Franklin, who made fun of me and my scones, and then Meghan, who thought that eating so much chocolate before a two hour bus ride was imprudent. I assured her that I had Dramamine enough in case I got carsick, and I would sit near the front. She snorted at my certainty, and went off to help pack luggage, Franklin in tow. Chris Woodburn stopped by for a moment, and then promptly left. I gobbled up the rest of my scones and hot chocolate, and hurried outside. The bus and van had arrived, and we were beginning to throw everything onto the back of the van and the bus. Half the cast had not shown up yet, but Mary, Jesus, Herod, Pilate Judas and Ciaphas were all there. We were still missing Simon (Catherine Chivers), and a group of girls who had slept over at Liv’s house, among other cast members. Some parents had come to see us off. Our Fearless Leader set about organizing baggage, and where it should go. The van was slowly getting filled, and the undersides of the bus were becoming increasingly full. We decided that I would load the back of the bus with the suitcases that would not fit under the bus or on the van. Everyone marveled at how little my suitcase was (I had military-packed everything, so everything was about the size of my fist), and they worried that I would not have enough stuff (as it turns out, I brought too much stuff…). The minutes were flying by, and departure time drew closer, and we were still not yet all there. Simon was still MIA, among other people. Finally, at about 9:25, when we were all getting on the bus and getting situated, the last stragglers showed up, and Catherine came as Mr. Creeger was doing roll-call. We all applauded, and not long after, we were on our way.

The drive, it seemed, took both longer and shorter than it should have. There were parts that just flew by, and others, like Eastman, crawled by my window like a snail in the sun, lazily making its way. After a while, I was so bored, I asked if I could borrow someone’s iPod. David Soncrant kindly offered me his, and I accepted (this friendship did not last long—more on that later.). I began to recognize signs in Massachusetts leading to towns I had heard of from my friends or read about in history. We passed a sign for Methuen, where my friend Matt lives, among other places. Soon, we were under the overpass that leads to Storrow Dr., leading to Boston Logan Airport. I felt the excitement rising within me—this was really happening, and I was lucky enough to have been chosen to go! We entered the Delta terminal area, and began unloading, and schlepping everything inside. Some people made mad dashes for the WC while the rest of us got everything off. We were all required to take both our bag, and one bag that Our Fearless Leader packed. Lucky for me, I had a luggage set, so I immediately called dibs on Gimpy, my suitcase that had costumes, t-shirts and promotion posters in it. I pitied anyone else who had to deal with Gimpy—he tends to fall over a lot. Once we thought we were all set, Franklin remembered that he forgot his bag on the bus. So we had to call Mr. Cutts, our lovely driver, back to Logan to get Franklin his bag. Our Fearless Leader gave him the eagle eye, but was very good natured about it. I spotted the bus as it came into the terminal and flagged Mr. Cutts down, Franklin trailing behind me. Franklin got his bag, and I did a final sweep of the bus to make sure nobody else had left anything. It was clean except for my fleece that Franklin had knocked off the seat. We thanked Mr. Cutts, bid him a good holiday, and were back on our way to the ticketing counter. Ms. McCabe and Mr. Creeger were handing our passports. Everyone was demanding to see everyone else’s pictures. Mr. Creeger had mine. He look one look at it, and chuckled, “You were just a mere slip of a girl!” he told me, handing me my passport. “I was thirteen when that was taken,” I replied. He looked surprised, and said, “You’ve grown a lot.” Maddy reached for mine and suppressed a squeal. “OH! You look so young!” she said, looking back and forth between me at eighteen and me at thirteen. “It looks like you and it doesn’t look like you,” she said, handing it back to me. A few more people looked at it, and I looked at theirs, and finally we got in line for tickets and baggage. I schlepped Gimpy and Little Red, my other suitcase, along in the line. The woman at the counter called my name, giving me a disparaging look. Ms. McCabe hovered nearby. Our Fearless Leader was trying to get the hazers with the smoke machine and the mixer on the plane, and was haggling with another Delta employee. My dragon lady called me back to attention, “Your passport expires in three months. Are you aware of that?” she asked me, glaring over her spectacles at me. “Yes, ma’am. Quite aware,” I replied, looking at the passport, rather than glaring back. “You know, some countries would deny you passage into their countries with a passport like this,” she snapped it shut in front of my nose, and laid on the keyboard in front of her and started tapping away on it. “Josephine?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Yes,” I answered out of habit. She looked over her glasses at the screen for a moment. “How many bags are you checking?” she said. I imagined smoke coming out of her nose. “Two,” I managed, squelching my giggle. I know it’s rude to do such a thing, but she was rude to me. I felt bad for the person behind me—they had the cross-box. She handed me my ticket and told me which gate I was at. “Josie, go stand with the others that have gotten through; they are just beyond the flag at security.” Kay said. I looked up—the flag was a long way away. I looked at her, then at the flag, raising my eyebrows, “Ok, whatever,” I said, and walked in that general direction. Some of my friends were waiting just by a cluster for phones. They had gotten through but were waiting for more people. My friend Maggie, a first-time flyer, clung to me. Our group made its way to security. The line was long, but moved quickly. With every turn, we would pass more KUA students and faculty. Franklin and I would poke each other as we passed. Finally, we got to the conveyor belt. “Maggie, take off your jacket and shoes and put them in the bin, and put your carry ons on the belt,” I instructed. “Why?” she asked, looking at her shoes, apparently horrified at the idea. “You have to,” I said, and taking off my converse and jacket, and putting my bags on the belt. I don’t know if she took them off, but she didn’t get stopped—except for her carry on. Maggie had the misfortune of getting the microphones and soundboard suitcase. Luckily, Mr. Creeger was waiting in case anything went amiss. Maggie looked terrified as a security member took the case off the belt and sternly addressed her, “Is this yours?” Maggie, new to this whole experience, merely nodded and managed a feeble, “Yes,” before the woman made away with it to a little table. Mr. Creeger recognized us, and casually walked over. “Is there a problem?” he asked politely. The woman glared at him, and then went back to work. “We just have to swab this for explosives,” she explained. Mr. Creeger nodded, hawking over her. Those microphones and the soundboard were worth upwards of $5000. I pulled Maggie to the side, giving them a little berth. Soon, everything was sorted out, thanks to Mr. Creeger being so reasonable and gentlemanly. We made our way to our gate, taking note of restaurants and stores that we might want to check out later. We got to our gate, and piled in among everyone else. Some people were filming, including Mr. Creeger, and taking pictures. Franklin and I went to go get some food, encountering Jesus and a bunch of other people en route. We ate, and then hurried back in time to hear the call for Zone 1 to board. After a few minutes, my zone was called. I sat next to Liv. Unfortunately for her, something rather emotional had just happened in my book, and I was sniffling. Finally, fed up with it, she said, “Do you want a tissue? I have some in my bag.” I was thoroughly embarrassed and mumbled a “No, no thanks,” to her, turning the next page. I overheard Maggie and her seatmate talking, and then I heard Maggie tell everyone that it was her first time on a plane. David Soncrant piped up, “The first time is always the best!” I snickered, and said, “That’s what she said.” Everyone laughed, and Maddy called from the back, “Um, Jo, I’m pretty sure it isn’t—I mean, not that I would know or anything!” she said. We all laughed again, and went back to what we were doing.

Three chapters later, we were landing at New York JFK LaGuardia Airport in New York. After that, time seemed to fly by. Maddy, Gracie, Mags and I went in search of food while Alix and someone else stayed with the bags and the already sleeping King Herod (Chris). After getting food, I got to talk to my friend Yao for a bit, and tell her about getting into Simmons, etc. I handed her off to Gracie, and then we went back to the seating area. Alix and whoever else went to get food while we stayed with the bags. We moved them down a row because there was more room. We didn’t want to wake Chris up to move, though. Shortly after we had finished eating, Maddy asked me if she could use my phone to try something. I was reading my book, and so agreed, not wanting to loose my place. “Hey Jo,” she said, “can your phone make international calls?” she asked. “I’ve no idea, sorry,” I answered. “I don’t think it can, but you can try,” I said. She plugged a number in my phone (which, actually, I am thankful for—more on that later), and then tried to call it. With no success, she then asked, “Can I go on the internet?” That caught my attention. “I really have no idea…I don’t know if I get coverage or whatever for it. Hmm….I don’t think so…” I pondered, Do I? So, she went on the internet, did her thing and handed me my phone fifteen minutes later. She showed me how to get on the internet (which is probably VERY bad!!!), and then we were assailed by the rest of the cast. Within a few minutes of their arrival, Chris woke up, and grumped at us, “Why did you move?” he asked. “Because there was more space,” Alix explained. He hobbled over to us, and resumed his napping. But before long, our flight was called. I looked at the windows, trying to ascertain if it was really evening already, it was still light outside, but then I remembered, in the springtime, it stays light longer. The prospect of spring made my stomach jump a little. We gathered up our belongings, and someone woke Chris up. On the plane, after much switching around, I was sitting next to Maggie, and Alix was in front of me. On every single flight we took, Alix sat alone, in the window seat, usually next to a male. This one in particular, according to Alix was, “a creeper.” During takeoff, I put my hands in the air like a roller coaster. I took a Dramamine after dinner, and promptly fell asleep, my mouth gaping open. Alix and Maggie took pictures of it. I woke up a few times during the flight, long enough to get a drink of water, and then to drink it, and fall asleep once more. I had finally found the blissful ignorance of slumber, and unbeknownst to me, the world flew by beneath my body, and when I woke to the sunrise in my window, a beautiful sight met my sleepy-dust encrusted eyes over Maggie’s shoulder.

8 March, 2008
England lay below me, just waking up as I was. The coastline was stark with sand tinted pink with the dawn. The waves that crashed upon it were white like a snowy border to the twilight quilt of the ocean. The sunrise had dyed the sky a myriad of colors. Our plane turned away from the dawn, and my side of the plane was once again plunged into semi-darkness. The air hostess’ pleasant voice came across the P.A. system, not sounding tired at all, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our final descent into the London-Gatwick area. Please be sure all tray tables and seats are in their proper upright and locked positions, and that all carry-on items are properly stowed.” I yawned and looked out the window again. Green fields rippled in the breaking dawn, and I saw little white blobs that I assumed were sheep. I chuckled at the sight of them. The sunlight bathed everything in smilingly golden light. Cars and buildings looked like miniatures beneath me. Our descent was barely noticeable, and before I even registered it, the ground was shockingly close, and we were going to land any second. “Local time in London is 8 o’clock in the morning on March the eighth,” said the now oppressively awake and pleasant voice. We landed with a small thud and hardly any fuss—unlike other flights I had been on. We taxied for few minutes and then came to a creeping halt at our gate.

The airport itself was amazing; however, finding a bathroom was a bit of a challenge. A bunch of girls, Kay and I went on a WC quest. We found one after about ten minutes of searching. The men also found one, where Isaac managed to drop his iPod Touch into the toilet. The rest of us managed to “break” at least one toilet (by break I mean it wouldn’t flush right away and it was embarrassing), and to the best of my knowledge, nobody dropped anything else into the loo. We came out a few minutes later, another group of girls trailing behind us to find our fearless leader pacing back and forth. “Where’s the rest of you?” he asked, eyeing our small group. “They’re lagging behind. Rachel’s with them,” she added. Our Fearless Leader nodded and turned away, “Of course.” Most of us made our way to customs while Our Fearless Leader waited for them. We got in line, and waited for one of desks to open up. I spotted a man in a kilt and giggled excitedly. I love kilts. Then I noticed a rather exasperated voice saying in a British accent, “Ma’am, please approach the counter. Ma’am—,” I snapped to and hurried over to the counter that was almost as big as I am. The man behind it gave me a rather stern look as I handed him my passport. He flipped through it and marked a page with his thumb. Then he flipped to the front where the picture was. He looked from it to me, then me to it, and once again, as if he couldn’t associate a younger me with the present me. Apparently he decided that it was indeed me, and began to flip through it once more. “What is your purpose here?” he asked, “Touring with a show,” I replied. He looked through his eyebrows at me. “Very good,” he said sounding bored. He stamped my passport with some force and snapped it shut. He then handed it to me and nodded me through. I waited on the other side, and noticed the money changer that the other part of the group that had gotten through had gone to. I waited in line, feeling relieved that airport food had not eaten up all my money. I still had a good portion. My change purse bulged with American change. I handed the gnarled but cheerful old man my bills and began to empty out my change. He stopped me, “We don’t accept foreign change,” he informed me kindly. “Why?” I asked out of habit. He looked surprised that I would dare question. Others in the group piped up before the old man could explain to me, the stupid American tourist, why our change was not accepted there. Fifteen different answers assailed me at once, and all I basically got was that it was because the change wasn’t the same size or something. We waited for the rest of the group to come through. I feel like we were far too noisy for morning in London. We got many disapproving glances from other travelers who shared this opinion. We made our way down to the baggage claim area and there, our bags spewed out onto the conveyor belt. I immediately spotted poor Gimpy and Little Red trailing behind on the belt, and lunged for them. Others grabbed suitcases marked “Puppets” and “Scrim/Teaser.” Chris got stuck with the Hosanna poles in their blue ski bag. Once everyone had two pieces of luggage, one their own and then one theater bag, we were off. As we entered the terminal, a woman in a purple plaid skirt, a purple blouse and horn-rimmed glasses was holding a sign that read “Kimball High.” Our Fearless Leader quickly made his way over to her and introduced himself. The woman peered around him and sized up the group. She took in our relatively disheveled appearance except for Brooke (Billingsley), who had changed into a smart and equally purple jumper and vest (She had changed outfits three times in the process of getting to England alone). I could see her eyes widen as we all began to converge on her. There was a man standing beside her who we assumed was the bus driver. The purple lady, sensing our desire to depart, turned and held the ridiculous “Kimball High” sign above her head. I was amazed at how quickly she moved. We lugged along behind her, one large amoeba of Americans gawking around London-Gatwick Airport. We went outside, where it was cold and blustery, but distinctly springy. I felt more awake with the blast of cold air. We trekked towards the bus and began piling our stuff on. Mine was some of the first to go. I marveled at the driver’s seat being on the left side rather than the right and the door to get on the bus being on the right. It was all so fascinating. Maddy, who had just dyed her hair red, assured us of how well she would fit in here. As I looked out the window, a woman of advanced years had a head of hair (obviously dyed) about as red as Maddy’s. I think I took a picture of her. We all laughed, and Maddy cried, “See! See! I’d fit in here better than America!” We were all getting seated now. I had chosen a spot by Maddy, and I talked to her throughout the bus ride as I admired all the scenery. Everything was so green and alive, fresh with spring’s warm breath. There were daffodils everywhere in sight. It made me insanely happy to be somewhere that was having warmer weather than home. I took pictures of a lot of things, including people driving on the wrong side of the road, the little cars, and the verdant fields. It did not feel so much strange to me like I was actually in a “foreign” country, but strange in a sense of belonging. After a while, the surroundings began to change into a more urban setting.

We pulled into Earl’s Court and unloaded the bus. I cannot remember what time it was when we arrived. We all were paired in different rooms. I was with Tara and Maggie. We made our way up to our room and dropped off our stuff. We then went to lunch, after splitting up because we were such a large group. I went with Mr. Creeger and Doc, and we went and found a pub in a hotel to lunch at. The staff looked a little concerned at such a large group, but we proved to be a profitable adventure. I got pasta, to fortify myself for all the walking ahead. I also had several cups of tea. On the telly, there was a program called “10 Love Songs That Will Live Forever.” I guess it was love songs in Britain, because I had never heard of a good portion of them, except for Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You,” a song from Top Gun (“Take My Breath Away”), Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On,” and this country song, “You Say ‘Yes’ When You Say Nothing At All.” Creeger and Doc were both very, very tired. Creeger kept saying that he needed to lay down—Doc as well. I was amazed that they were not as rested as I was, but maybe that was the tea taking effect. After we all finished our meals and tea, we sat and watched some more of the show. “We have to see what’s number one!” Maddy said. Doc and Creeger assented, and so we stayed for another few minutes. Number one was not a song we knew, so it must have been love songs that in British opinion would go on forever. We left the pub and went back to the hotel. Maddy had been relatively frantic all day because her friend Craig was meeting her at the hotel before we went to the theater that evening. I waited with her for the most part, and then I went up to my room to freshen up. When I came down, Craig was there. Craig is a really tall Englishman with sparkling, mischievous blue eyes. He is in his middle twenties, maybe 26, and a firefighter. After introductions, we struck up a conversation about firefighting. He seemed impressed (either that or minutely shocked) that I was a firefighter as well. We sat and talked until it was time to get ready for the theater that evening. I began in a dress, but thought better of it, and went back upstairs to change into a skirt and oxford. I came down once more to find the number in the lobby had doubled while I had speedily changed. Our Fearless Leader, Kay, Creeger and Doc were there as well, waiting for everyone so they could hand out tickets. There would be two groups. One was going with Our Fearless Leader and Creeger to the theatre, and Kay and Doc would be going to a dance performance. I was in the theatre group with Maddy and a bunch of my other friends. Craig, sensing that it was time to go, bid us adieu, and left. After a lot of unnecessary confusion, we set off, one group to the theatre, the other to the dance concert. I linked arms with Mr. Creeger, teetering precariously on my high heels. As we walked along the street, we looked for a place to eat. We poked our heads in a few places, including a small restaurant that looked like it was closed, but once the owner caught sight of us (well after Our Fearless Leader had dubbed it a “No”), he practically ran to the door and asked, “How many?” Creeger and I apologized, and kept walking. After a while, we came upon the tube station where Our Fearless Leader haggled with the woman at the ticket counter. When Mr. Stern doesn’t get what he wants, he has these little mini tantrums. They are scary. After haggling with the woman for about ten minutes, we got our passes, and made our way through the gate things and down to the platform. I think a few people got stuck. We got there just as the train arrived in whoosh, making me feel like I was flying past the train. It was a feeling that made me want to fall over. We got onto the tube, and went merrily jolting on our way to the theater. When we got there, it was lightly drizzling. We were still looking for a place to eat dinner, and so went exploring. Mr. Stern, Our Fearless Leader, took off, all of us trailing behind him. He would go into a restaurant, and we would hover outside, and then he’d come out, put out, but not completely discouraged. He would then set off for the next restaurant. We went into several different restaurants, all to the same effect. After about six restaurants, we found a rather posh, four-star type restaurant to eat at. Mr. Stern came out, with a manic gleam in his eye, “They will seat us!” he declared. We went into the restaurant, half of us in dress-code at least, some in our finery, and Soncrant looking like a hobo in a t-shirt and sweat pants. The rather attractive waiter brought us to an out of the way table tucked in a back corner of the restaurant. There were not enough plates at the table. I sat on the end with Brooke Billingsley and a few other people. We were given our menus with much decorum. We were so obviously Americans that we didn’t wait for the waiter to place the menu in front of us, but took it from his hand. We were not as voluble as usual, but we were still one of the loudest groups of diners. There was a family of four across the way from me. It looked like just a mother and her three children, unless it was a nanny and her employer’s three children. I puzzled at why someone would bring children to such a fancy restaurant. It not only seemed imprudent but flirting with danger. There were glass cups on the table among a myriad of other rather breakable looking things. After waiting forever, and with much turning around and glaring by Our Fearless Leader, our food finally arrived. I had broccoli soup that had too much pepper in it, and made me cough. There was a lot of awkwardness during the meal. Brooke, or Bill Ingsley, added to that awkwardness when I asked a question about the portions. She gave me an answer that plainly said, "Haven't you ever been to a fancy restaurant?" and when I replied that I had never had the privilege to go to such a fancy restaurant she looked like a fish out of water, and then promptly closed her mouth. I got all depressed because I felt my "social class" weighing down on me. But as soon as the food arrived, the feeling dissipated.

We all gobbled up our food, having only minutes to spare before the performance began.