20 February. Seattle, WA
I was sitting in a cafe in Seattle, WA, around 12pm, about to order a delicious food-item from the eclectic menu. Across from me was Alice, a friend from The Ohio State University, who I had met when she brought me in to talk to the incoming Resident Advisors in 2012. Now, 3 years later, she was living in Seattle and we were reconnecting for the first time since the event.
As I looked over the menu, wondering if I was in a pancake or French toast mood, I heard my name called from elsewhere in the restaurant. I looked up and immediately recognized the face (I’m good with faces, just not the names they go with) but couldn’t place who it was. A few seconds later, as she walked towards our table, I realized who it was and why I was a bit perplexed.
The tall, skinny blonde walking our way was Amie, a fellow improviser at The Magnet Theater in New York City, 2500 miles away.
“Drew! What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m here for a couple of trainings. What are YOU doing here?” I replied.
“I’m in town for the Seattle Improv Festival, in fact this whole group of people are in town for the event,” she responded, pointing to the boisterous group of people at the table behind her.
I should have known they were improvisers. They were a little bit louder than most of the other tables and having a great time. The few snippets of conversation I had overheard now registered as bits on bits on bits (aka lots of joking), a telltale sign you have Yes Anders in your environment.
Amie and I caught up for a few minutes when she revealed some exciting news.
“Yeah, these peeps are from all over,” she said, gesturing back towards the group behind her again. “In fact, that guy is from Italy.”
My eyes lit up. “Really, where in Italy?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I could ask him,” Amie replied.
“Can you? I’m going to be in Switzerland next month and I’ve never been to Italy,” I said.
“Well then let me introduce you,” she said excitedly.
We walked over to the guy who she introduced as Paolo, probably because that was his name. I learned that Paolo is an improviser from Turin, Italy, which I learned is only a 2-hour train ride from Milan, which I learned is only a 2-hour train ride from Geneva, Switzerland, where I’ll be going for my event next month.
“You should come to Torino [translation: Turin]. If you do, you can stay at my place and we can find some improv stuff you can do,” Paolo said in his Italian accent.
I added him on Facebook via my phone and told him I’d be in touch before returning to my seat to resume my meal with Alice. Given the excitement for a possible stay in Italy and being unsure of French-Italian relations, I ordered the pancakes instead of the French toast.
