It's 5am in Edinburgh and I just woke up after a 15-hour nap. I arrived from Chicago yesterday morning and was greeted by Peter Scally, heretofore known as the world's most remarkable Jesuit.
Peter is my host during my stay in Edinburgh and did I mention he is remarkable? I cannot emphasize his remarkableness enough, because the first thing Peter did upon meeting and greeting me was to ask if I would like some breakfast, whereupon he then proceeded to make me bacon, eggs, the most delicious black pudding I've ever had -- not that I've had much black pudding mind you, it's not as big in Wilmette, Illinois, as it should be -- toast and French press coffee. To say I was moved by this gesture of hospitality is an understatement.
You see the only people who have ever made me breakfast (and I'm not talking your piddly pouring-of-contents-of-box- into-bowl breakfast here, I'm talking actually turning on a major appliance to heat meat thing going on) have also given birth to me. So I was overwhelmed by the generosity. Is this a Scottish thing?
The feelings of gratitude combined with the residual effects of an eight-hour cross-Atlantic journey did not make me the most intriguing of breakfast companions, but Peter was wonderfully kind and engaging. Somewhere in our conversation he asked if he could promote my show in the church bulletin and I told him my only concern was that the show might not appeal to the blue-haired set. At some point in the resulting dialogue, my show was referred to as "edgy," which made me laugh and cringe at the same time, as I find the term to be a set-up for disappointment. The only thing I can picture in my head when I think of "edgy Jesuit" is a priest in cassock wearing high top sneakers shooting hoops with the kids and reciting lyrics from Will Smith songs.
After the most extraordinary breakfast ever, I took a brief sojourn through the city to get the lay of the land as it were, and was delighted to find posters for my show plastered all over the window of Gryphon Venues at the Point Hotel, where my show will be going up. At that moment l realized that, yes, indeed I was here to perform a show. Dear God, I'm performing a show here!
I coped with this realization the way I cope with most other significant realizations in my life: I took a nap. I woke at some anonymous hour to hear fireworks outside of my window marking the start of the Edinburgh International Festival and thought, "Oh yes, this is something I will see," whereupon I proceeded to roll over and go back to sleep.
Fifteen hours later, here I am, the sole person awake in the community at an ungodly hour, ready to start my first full day at the Fringe.
Wish you were here! More later.