It’s the day before a long trip and I just got a last minute request from this weekend’s client.

“Mark - you need a Covid test before Saturday’s show.”

A lot of times when I’m working it feels like people I work with seem to think they’re my only client. This show has been booked for two months and yet they’ve waited until today to ask for a negative test, which is a huge hassle on top of everything else I have to do.

I have the usual day-before-I-leave responsibilities: pick up the dry cleaning, pack my bags, dishes, laundry, reach out to all the clients for the next five days, double check my travel plans, etc. Now I have to add a Covid test to the mix, too.

I find a Walgreens with a free appointment. It’s 20 minutes away. I glance out the window. It’s mid-afternoon, early November, clear skies. “Hm, better plan on 40 minutes.”

I’m dead on with my ETA, a sort of spidey-sense for city traffic developed over years of gigs in the Chicago area.

The results are back within the hour and I forward them to the client. I don’t have Covid so I’m good to go. I don’t mention that I’ll be in three airports, two hotels, four cities, and a ton of restaurants before I get to their event and could easily get Covid in any of those places. They didn’t consider I might have other gigs to deal with so why bother correcting them?

I’m the first half of a double feature tonight, which means I’ll be sharing the stage with another performer. And also the dressing room.

Other performers only talk about themselves. I always forget how this goes. I’ll try to talk about art, new movies, writing, showmanship, creativity, theater, show ideas, or any of the dozens of things that fascinate me about this craft.

Most other performers don’t give a shit about that stuff. They only want to talk about themself. They love to posture and tell you all the hacks they’ve figured out about the business.

That’s what I’m dealing with now. I’m sitting in the dressing room and instead of talking about art or life or the new season of Succession, I’m having to listen to this guy tell me about how much money he saved on hotel rooms this trip.

“What do you use to research the best deal on flights?”

I explain that I don’t research flights. I tell him that I never wanted to be a businessman and that I prefer to spend my time writing, watching classic movies, and learning new things. He doesn’t get it.

“You need to be using such-and-such booking site…”

I’m so bored that I can’t even recall the site he mentioned to include it in this post. I’m not even listening, instead I scan the wall of posters of previous acts that have performed here. I try to envision Yo-Yo Ma or Jerry Seinfeld checking Hotwire or Travelocity for the best rates on their flights.

I glance back. Yep, he’s still talking. About himself.

Yawn.

“…and that’s how I saved over $50 on tonight’s hotel room. Where are you staying?”

I calmly explain that, just as with my flights, I prefer to stay with one brand, and I don’t mind the (potentially) more expensive prices because I prefer to accumulate points for end of year bonuses, rewards, etc. He looks at me, but he’s only thinking about the next thing he’s going to say. And, if I’m being honest, I’m only trying to play along because I’m trapped in this room for the next hour. But my heart isn’t in it. Nothing is less interesting to me than the mundane details of planning a trip.

The only way out of this is to take the stage and destroy this room. And I do. The audience goes crazy and I nail time - exactly 50 minutes - so I can take my props offstage and leave space for the next act.

Ordinarily I’d stay and chat a bit more after the show, but I’m done for tonight. Besides, he doesn’t want to talk to me, just anyone who will listen.

Oh well, back to my overpriced, super comfy, quiet hotel room.

More shows in more cities, come and go like ripples in a pond. Georgia, Nebraska, Texas, South Dakota, Michigan, Illinois. Finally, I’m back in Chicago and have a little time off for Thanksgiving.

Time to take a deep breath before the brutal December schedule begins. It’s been a long, exhausting few months on tour so far this fall, but for just a few days it feels good to be home.