I Should Have Known

Last night's rehearsal was scheduled at 7:00 pm at a downtown theater, on Geary near Union Square. That area seems to be the closest thing SF has to a theater district. The American Conservatory's home is a beautiful Victorian theater that dominates the block between Taylor and Mason. Down the road is the The Shelton Theatre, Jean Shelton Acting Lab and The SF Playhouse, that all share the same building. On the outskirts of Union Square is The Exit, home to SF Fringe. And around the corner from A.C.T. is The Phoenix. This is where I was to be rehearsing.

The theater is on the 6th floor of an office building, while the Annex, a nicely sized studio, is on the 4th. I was to meet the theater director, a colleague of mine from a playwriting group, outside the Annex. She was to let us in and show us around.

She never showed up. We waiting in the 4th floor lobby for half an hour before we decided to make good use of the time by rehearsing right there. We set up our basic props, and began a run-through, much to the chagrin of the fashion-conscious women behind an orange door that led to some sort of impressively hip-looking design studio. They had to pass through the lobby to get to the restroom, dodging our dance moves on the way.

At 8:15 we decided to give up. After a "you'll never believe this" explanation to the husband when he asked why I was home so early, I emailed the theater director to let her know I'd been there and waited. She replied. Turns out she forgot. About my rehearsal. We'd confirmed earlier in the day. But somehow she forgot.

I was warned by a co-worker in New York before I moved here: "you know, San Francisco is a flaky place to live. The people are all flakes." At the time, I thought he was just being judgmental. Turns out he was right.