Up until Thursday evening, my fiancée and I were in Russia, as beautifully described in earlier posts (as always). Our return was interesting, especially if you’re into transportation and infrastructure (as my fiancée is, more so than me): we took the night train from St Pete to Moscow just before midnight on Wednesday evening, arrived in Moscow just before 9am the next morning, jumped in the subway to get our last Russian breakfast on Red square in front of the Kremlin (yes, for those who didn’t know, Red square is right next to the Kremlin; there’s also a church nearby), took the subway back to Belorusskaya train station where we got into the Aeroexpress (express) train to the airport… and flew back home to Paris. Where it was 38°C in the shade, thank you very much.
On Friday, we got up early to sort out a new location for our August wedding party (long story, which may eventually be told on here) and a couple other exciting things like an accounting emergency with my company, you know, the kind of stuff you like doing fresh off the plane. Then, in the evening, we were off to the 6th Paris improv festival that was created by my improv friends and I therefore have to attend if I want to remain friends with them. Also, I don’t dislike improv, which somehow explains why I’ve seen so many of their shows over the years (I don’t just go for the warm Coke can afterwards).
Also, I was performing that year. Not improv, mind you (I would have told you), but storytelling. Which some of you might be surprised by, given that what I write on this blog is not necessarily of printing quality, except if that printing relates to the “Who wore what” section of US weekly’s exclusive swimsuit summer edition. Storytelling on stage is a pretty simple gig: the rule is to be as truthful as possible, whether or not it’s funny. Perfect.
In the end, the gig ended up being somewhat improvised: there were 3 of us storytellers (the other 2 actually being friends from the improv group, because some us can do 2 things), and we were supposed to be introduced by pro debaters to tie things up nicely. Only said debaters never showed up (they may have been stuck in the subway debating with a train door for all we know) and we were left to introduce the show ourselves. Or, more accurately, I was.
Which is my excuse for the set not being Seinfeld-level. My best excuse.