Mark Tardy Hopkins

Forgiveness is paramount!

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I'm often late for things. Despite the fact that I usually get away with it, it's a problem.

Last night, I headed up to birds & stone to check out Amber Lights (written/produced by Simone Saunders and directed by Jennifer Roberts!). The show started at 8:00, and I left the house around 7:48 because... why? I think I was playing Spider-Man: Web of Shadows (a game that runs at a crawl on my poor computer) and forgot to eat dinner, so when I noticed the time, I paused to shove something down my throat on the way out the door.

I leapt into my car, slammed it into reverse and backed out of my spot, just like I've done a hundred times before. Only, this time, the parking lot was covered in ice.

Usually, I can swing out of my spot with a comfortable space between my car and its opposite, parked on the other side of the lot. This time, however, my car just kept swinging around, right toward my neighbour's rear bumper. I slammed on the brakes, and we skidded in Hollywood-style slow motion, stopping a hair's breadth before impact.

Adrenaline freshly pumping, I headed for Memorial Drive.

En route, I somehow managed to tear my right thumbnail - nothing too dramatic, just a sliver that I would have later cut off anyway, but enough that it hurt. The sliver refused to relinquish its death-grip on my thumb, and so when I pulled up to birds & stone (at what my dashboard clock told me was 7:58 pm), I spent a couple minutes resolving my thumbnail issue.

Feeling much happier about life in general, with the digital clock screaming 8:00!!! at me, I hurried over to the birds & stone entrance... and it was locked.

I was puzzled. Had I misread the showtime? Was the run over?

I mused that perhaps they had decided to use the 1st St entrance, rather than the 16th Ave, so I moseyed over. That door was unlocked, so I headed down the stairs, where I encountered a locked door right outside of where the box office should be.

I shrugged and knocked. After a moment, a young woman opened the door.

"Um," she said. "We're about to start the show."

"Great!" I replied. "Can I come in?"

She paused. "Do you have a ticket?"

"No."

"Uh," she said, glancing anxiously over her shoulder toward the theatre. "Look, I gotta be on stage. I need to lock this door."

"Oh! Okay..."

"Sorry man!"

Slam.

Belatedly, realising that I had just inadvertently stressed out one of the actors, I thought about wishing her a good show. The newly locked door didn't offer any suggestions on how, so I headed back to my car, bemused at my predictability, and drove home to write a blog post about my proclivity for tardiness. Annnnd then I got distracted and never got around to it.

Tonight, after getting my "bad-ass" haircut at Swizzlesticks, I headed up to 16th Ave for a dinner/CYPT meeting with Mat. We wrapped up around 7:05, which left me with fifty-five minutes to kill before Amber Lights, attempt #2.

Normally, in such a situation, I would either head home or order another beer, then rush for the theatre just in time to snag a seat. But I decided, no. Today I will be early.

Showed up at 7:15. Had a nice chat with Simone and her brother. Returned Downstage's projection stand to storage. Ran into some other friends. Got a seat in the front row.

Compared to my normal routine, it was pretty relaxed.

I doubt this is any kind of turning point, and I fully suspect that I'll continue to squeal out of parking lots, hoping that whoever I'm meeting is later than me. But, wow, wouldn't life be way calmer if I could start being early?