Hope you can stomach another story about my tightfistedness, cause I ain’t tired of writing ‘em.I was in a play at a theater in Hollywood, which was next door to an expensive parking garage that graciously offered free parking for the first 90 minutes.
Every day during rehearsal, actors would one-by-one run next door, moving their cars every hour and a half. On opening night, I decided to attempt this trick in between scenes, and got caught behind California’s slowest moving minivan. When I finally pulled into a spot I took a moment to panic, then sprinted back inside (in full 19th century wardrobe) and arrived seconds before my entrance. I gracefully delivered my lines wheezing and drenched in flopsweat.
For the rest of the show’s run I happily shelled out the cash.
