I had just gotten back from the U.K. I'd brought a show that I wrote and performed to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. What had brought my American audiences much laughter and then to their feet at the end had a less than earth-shattering effect on the Scots. In short, it didn't go over so good. To be fair, it's difficult to gauge the reaction of a crowd when their absence is more prevalent than their presence. I had some shows when the audience numbered in single digits. Nice.
It rained a lot while I was there and I was recently broken-hearted. The two go together well, like $10 Pinot Noir and episodes of 11 P.M. Law & Order. Edinburgh, for all its beauty, stomped on my already beaten-up heart and sent me home lonelier than I'd ever felt. Sadly, I like to think that I am my plays, and if they get praise, I get praise, and if they get hammered, well . . . (I am getting better at this.) Oh, and I didn't get laid either, which I thought was sort of a given circumstance of a summer in Europe. Nope, not for this Sad American Girl.
