Second Intermission:THE RETURN

After 12 years of absence it was exciting to think about my return to Canada…invited to direct Carmen in Ottawa…See old friends, work with new singers, exist here again, and prove to myself that I still love the country which has been so good to me for 14 years, my tenure in Montreal.

Canada where I directed my first Romeo, my first Adriane Lecouvreur,  my first Gioconda, my first  at least 20 other operas….Yes, of course, Carmen is no great novelty for me, but …but…

In any case, I was excited and looking forward to renew with my other life, my past in this country…

IT DID NOT START TOO WELL.

I explain myself:

As always, I am early everywhere, an old habit of mine...Not only out of respect for other people’s time but also my anguish of possibly missing something; the result of my youth when I had the feeling that people will not wait for me because they did not really want to be with me…so I leave my apartment in New York at noon for a flight at 3 30 pm from La Guardia.

The traffic in New York was horrendous, the driver did not stop swearing and screaming in a language unknown to me, perhaps a mix of Swahili and Javanese. He drives very fast abruptly slamming the brakes every 15 seconds projecting me against the window each time in the back seat; I try to tell him to be careful but he ignores me and continue to scream in Swahili.

I finally arrive at the airport one hour later but still 2 and half hours too early and the driver suddenly told me in a perfect English that I was his last customer after a long night and he could not wait to go home, he tells me that he cannot accept credit card because his machine is broken and requires cash… Already exhausted I do not argue and just to get rid of him and begin my RETURN more positively I give him fifty-five dollars while he throws my luggage on the sidewalk.

Carrying my big bag, my smaller one and my computer briefcase, I go thru a group of screaming adolescents disguised as vampires and monsters of all kind, and finally reach one of the machine to check in. I insert a credit card and of course after four attempts it is denied and the machine indicates that I have to go check at the Air Canada desk.

The lady, no a woman, at the desk looks at me with disdain, may be because I no longer look like a movie star anymore, and after 45 seconds of silence, she whispers: Yes?????

I tell her that I am going to Ottawa and she smiles and smiles, almost laughs. Politely, I wait and wait…

She smiles again and says: Your flight has been canceled, the next one is at 7 30 pm or you can take a flight to Toronto and then another one to Ottawa but you will arrive at the same time that the one leaving at 7 30 pm.

I look at her and she smiles, an ugly smile full of teeth of a huge mouth, with lips covered with purple lipstick.

I tell her I will take the 7 30 pm flight, she laughs and says: “have a good trip.”

After a leisurely 45 minutes on the security line, I reached the other side of civilization, the no man’s land of  the airport where everybody is either the phone or eating delicious fast food  for an army of Huns destroying the countryside of Europe.

I decide to spoil myself and buy a coffee…of course, it is from the night before and tastes like ink… I sit with the satisfaction of a man who had fulfilled his duties by accepting with resignation my canceled flight and followed all the rules of our organized society.

An old lady (older than me, really old) comes closer to me to whisper something in my ear and pours her burning tea on my pants. Those pants that I had saved for the journey, pants well ironed and straight from the cleaner, in order to give the impression to everybody waiting for me at the airport that all is in order, that I am fine, that I am in control of my life and destiny. The old lady mumbles something and tries to clean my pants with a shaking hand hurting my private parts while she spits on my face some leftovers of the sugary nectar she was drinking.

She is sorry, she is so sorry, I tell her not to worry and I get up and walk away.

I spend the next 7 hours away from anybody, playing with my phone, playing with my Ipad, playing with my computer, incapable of concentrating on anything useful, after all I am human and can sometimes blend into today’s world doing nothing most of the time.

We are now called for the boarding…I am in the plane, thank god, soon all will be over…

I see somebody sitting in my assigned seat…I check my ticket, I check the seat number, I am right, it is my seat…I tell the person in a very mild tone of voice that I believe he is in my seat, but the sitting giant does not answer, does not turn around and ignores me …Since I am a very calm, quiet and polite man, I bark that he is sitting in my seat...he still ignores me and closes his eyes ready to fall in a deep sleep since he believes he is right and I have to be just another crazy jerk. The flight attendant joins us at the speed of a cannon ball, checks the tickets, looks at me, looks at the giant and makes her choice…she declares that there is a mistake, but I should not worry, she will find another seat for me.

 Everybody passes by me, hurting me with bag packs, tennis rackets, or just potbellies…

I am still waiting.

And waiting.

Later…

Much later… everybody is sitting.

The flight attendant (when I was younger they were called “Hotesses de l’air”) comes to me, and with a big smile of relief since she found a seat, asks me to follow her and to a seat  in the last row near the toilets… There is no room for my luggage, so she tells me not to worry, she will take care of it and will have my luggage checked.

I sit exhausted, thinking about the little nap I am going to take, a little nap full of happy dreams… I am starting to doze off when the howling of a crying child makes me jump…in front of me, standing on his seat and screaming a three years old Enrico Caruso, looking at me with hatred and an air of revenge… He will scream for two hours while looking at me nonstop…

I am used to screaming in the opera world, so I close my eyes but suddenly the Captain announces turbulence and for the next hour I feel I am on a sinking ship in the Indian Ocean during a hurricane or a monsoon.

I arrive in Ottawa, Canada totally devastated and exhausted…. I go to the luggage carousel and look at all the lovely valises of my travelling companions… the last one is my red suitcase, but no sign of the one I gave to the smiling attendant on the plane… my carry on is not there…They will bring it tomorrow to my hotel.

I go to the office of the airline, fill 6 sheets of paperwork, give a detailed description of the piece of luggage… tell them what is inside, smile, and answer the phone to reassure the people who came to pick me up that I am

alive…

With my bag, I go through Immigration and they ask for my work permit, I explain to them that I do not need one. They are French Canadians and I think that if I address them in French, it would help the situation…huge mistake, they look at me now with mistrust and insist that I need a work permit…they go on a computer and check all the rules, how much money I am to make, how long I would stay in Canada, they discover that I last came in 2003 with a work permit and do not understand that this time I do not need one…after one hour of arguing with them aggressively but gently(of course) they decide to consult their superior…he tells them that I do not need a work permit, he stamps my passport and I leave.

The director of production is still waiting for me on the other side, it is now 11 30 pm, I left my apartment 12 hours ago for one hour and a half flight…He is extremely friendly and feels sorry for my misadventures and says that his car is only two minutes away and he will drive me to my hotel. We get to his car, I sit relieved, soon it will be all over, but…THE CAR DOES NOT START, and he tries many times, THE DAMN CAR DOES NOT START.

He is so sorry, he calls for a cab, gives me some cash, and I am on my way to the hotel.

Forty-five minutes later, I am in my bed wondering if my carry on would be here tomorrow, my score and all my working materials are in it… Since I am a man of peace, I fall asleep fast.

HOPING THAT THE NEXT 25 DAYS OF MY RETURN WILL BE BETTER.