It's week six from the end. The hardest week of tour. Because up until this point you're committed for four months. And the end is nowhere in sight. It's just this nebulous amount of time. And then you're six weeks out. And suddenly you can see the finish line. And the honeymoon is over. And you have to love people by willpower instead of feelings.
One day it comes to you all of the things you miss about being settled. Internet. Bubble baths. Tea. A library of books that couldn't fit in a tupperware. Featherbed and down comforters. Going anywhere without taking into consideration thirteen other people. Driving your own car. Web surfing. And on and on for all of week six.
The job is routine. Tear down goes easily. The show is old hat, and as you pass the 20 mark and near show 30 you struggle to find new motivation for stale lines (No one is ever going to laugh at "Well, it's the good book.") and wonder in passing how they ever did 5,000 performances of Fiddler. You wake up and realize you don't know where you are, and you've forgotten the names of the people who drove you home. You frantically search for mail to fill out the thank you card.
Team relationships solidify. By now they've seen you at your worst, and in week six you don't much love yourself (am I really that whiney?) or anyone else (are THEY really that whiney?). But you know about them. And their aunt with cancer. Their cousin in a coma. The friend they pray for every day. The girlfriend who doesn't believe. The boyfriend that just became more. Struggles with parents and money and growing up and moving out and where-does-God-fit-into-it-all. So even when you want to blow everyone off and go home you can't, and really don't want to when you stop and think about it.
And then we'll be through it and week five will be upon us, and by week three the end will be looming and there won't be enough time to spend with people who for a short time were your family and will all be going separate ways. And then it will be the lasts. Last show. Last drive. Last song. Last homestay. Last trip. Last packing. Last flight. And life will go back to normal. And you'll realize how much you miss it all.
But all that's still to come. We still have to survive week six.
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