I Love Hamlet

First an update on Carmen, since many of you have asked.

She's almost good as new, thanks to Ron and his fabulous Auto Clinic. Ron replaced a number of parts, including the serpentine belt, which sounds like something one would wear to the Black Party but which is actually, according to Wikipedia, "a single, continuous belt used to drive multiple peripheral devices in an automotive engine, such as an alternator, power steering pump, water pump, A/C compressor, air pump, etc..."

Ron also vastly improved Carmen's air conditioning system, though he wants her back tomorrow to replace an additional part -- something called a cooling module -- so that the air conditioner doesn't turn itself off whenever the car idles. (Too complicated to explain in this space.)


Almost cool.

The one thing Ron couldn't do was get the radio to work. Since buying the car, I have learned more than I ever wanted to about Volkswagens and their infamous anti-theft radios. Why a factory-issue stock radio (with a cassette deck, no less) would require a security code worthy of a nuclear warhead is beyond me, but whatever the reason, until today the only thing that happened when I turned on the radio was that the word "SAFE" would appear. No music, no numbers, just "SAFE." Kris at Adams Autos had told me all I needed was a four-digit code, which I could easily get from any Volkswagen dealer.

LIES!

First of all, the VW dealer I called wanted $27 to look up the code -- with no guarantee that the radio was even functional.

Secondly, I learned after hours of Internet research that before you can even enter the code, you have to make the "SAFE" go away and turn into a blinking "1000." (Don't ask why -- there's no explanation that satisfies.)

Ron warned me that the radio was probably broken anyway, and I'd be better off just going to BestBuy and spending the $150 on a new one.

He obviously didn't know who he was dealing with.

I continued my Internet research, stumbling upon a site called justanswer.com. For a mere $9 I could get a so-called "Volkswagen Expert" to look up my code. If I were satisfied with the answer to my query, I would authorize the payment. (The catch is, if I'm not satisfied with the answer, the site keeps the $9 in my account, to be used toward a future query.)

I entered the radio's serial number and the car's VIN, and lo and behold, within 30 minutes, a VW expert named Christopher logged on and answered my question -- supplying me with what he said was my four-digit code. Of course, I had no idea whether it was the right code because I hadn't yet made the dreaded "SAFE" go away and the magic "1000" appear.

Back on the 'net, I found a consumer electronics site called forum.ecoustics.com on which thousands of aggrieved VW owners compared notes on the best ways to get to the "1000."

My salvation came in the form of a '97 Jetta owner named Tucker Wynn, who posted thusly:


I don't know who has what but this is a picture of my stereo on my stereo.


I got it to work for now.

1. "SAFE" appears on the display.
2. Press & hold "MODE" button.
3. Press & hold "SCAN" button.
4. "1000" appears on the display.
5. Release both buttons immediately.
6. There should be a number to the left of the "1000" This should represent how many times you have tried to enter the code.
7. Enter your 3 or 4 digit code with the following. If you have a 3 digit code, assume that the first digit is a zero or blank.
8. Press button 1 until your first digit is changed to the correct number. (zero or blank)
9. Press button 2 until your 2nd digit is correct.
10. Do the same with the 3rd and 4th digit.
11. When the digits are correct, press & hold the "MODE" button.
12. Press & hold the "SCAN" }button.
13. The word "SAFE" should show up again.
14. Release the buttons immediately and your radio should work.

I followed Tucker Wynn's initial instructions to the letter. Nothing happened. Still just that fucking "SAFE" word. Then it occurred to me that unlike the radio pictured above, my radio had two scan buttons -- a scan left and a scan right. Maybe I needed to press both of them, along with the mode button. I did so.

Suddenly the following appeared:

1000

I began to weep softly. I continued with Tucker's instructions, entering the four numbers Christopher from justanswer.com had given me. Then I completed the sequence, pressing both scan buttons and the mode button once again.

At top volume, Kanye West began to sing:

N- n- now th- that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
Cause i can't wait much longer

Sweeter words my ears have never heard.

***

Last night I auditioned for the sixth annual North Park Playwright Festival. Actually a festival of short plays (each no longer than 10 minutes), the festival is run by and presented in the North Park Vaudeville & Candy Shop. It's exactly what the name implies -- an actual candy shop connected to a tiny, 35-seat black box theater.


How cute is that?

The auditions were two-fold. First, we actors got up and delivered prepared monologues. Then, the directors present called certain people back up to read from the plays they were casting.

I was nervous as hell. I grew up doing theater, but the last time I had done a play was 1993. And though I've performed stand-up about a thousand times since then, it's not the same.

For one thing, there was the monologue. I had chosen a comic monologue from Paul Rudnick's "I Hate Hamlet." And while I was confident I could deliver it well -- the character is a neurotic actor kvetching about he bombed on-stage the night before -- memorizing it was another story.

I have a very good memory for words, especially song lyrics. But performing my own material all this time has made my mind lazy. I don't ever worry about delivering a bit the same way twice; in fact, I'm constantly changing it, adapting it.

You're not supposed to do that when you're performing someone else's words. You're supposed to "honor the work," as they say.

And try as I did, I just couldn't remember it verbatim.

I was most concerned about getting the Shakespeare soliloquy down:

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them.

Five lines from the most famous speech in all of literature; you'd think I could learn them. But no, each time I practiced, I said, "Or take arms" instead of "Or to take arms."

I almost considered taking the script up on-stage with me, but I discarded that idea when I saw that none of the other actors were doing so.

Taking a deep breath, I went up. "Hi, my name is Adam Sank. And I'm going to be performing a monologue that I've almost memorized..."

This got big laughs, and I relaxed.

It went well, though I did leave out entirely this section:

And I thought, okay, all my questions are answered -- I'm not Hamlet, I'm no actor, what am I doing here?

But at least I nailed the soliloquy. I was taken aback when the monologue's biggest laugh came from this line:

I just wanted to say, hey kid, I'm with you

Instead of the line immediately following it, which I had considered the punchline:

I can't stand this either!

It just goes to show you that play-acting can be as unpredictable as comedy.

Anyway, from there the night was a cake-walk. I was called up to read for virtually every director, and it was thrilling for me, after all these years, to be performing theatrical roles again. In the course of the four-hour audition, I got to play a zonked-out club kid, a British museum-goer, a diabolical spin doctor and, improbably, a lesbian named Samantha.

The feedback and energy I got from everyone was incredibly positive. One director pulled me aside and said, "I know you're going to get offered a lot of parts in this festival, but I want to tell you why mine is perfect for you..."

We find out tomorrow which play(s) we were cast in, and the festival takes place throughout the month of October.

Stay tuned.

Homo out on-stage. ♥