I was just sitting in the Royal Court Theatre bar one evening...

... sipping some strong shit, I mean orange juice, when Alan Rickman did NOT walk in, since he was and is reportedly in Canada. :9 If I hadn't been so worried about school I could have visited the theatre about 23 days earlier, in which case my report might have looked something like this. (My friend's friend was apparently there, and I read that report the day before my journey. :) )

But anyway, I went to London on April 30 to see My name is Rachel Corrie, since it was DIRECTED BY ALAN!!! :D

Before I visited London in 1999, everyone asked in jolly voices: "Oh! London! That's nice! First visit? Are you going to see any plays or musicals then? :D" I was an immensely cool 15-year-old... "Why the feck would I want to do that?"

I had never before seen a play on my own time - only on kindergarten/school time. I don't even remember what any of those were about. There are two fragments - something huge and pizza-like in Alice in Wonderland (1992) and a guy reportedly dying of a heart attack in a small fishing boat in some random Swedish play (2000)... Well, wasn't that INTERESTING!!! :D

The entire 24 hour trip in 2005 kicked arse, because *SPOILER* I got to see Alan's play, *END OF SPOILER* but also because I had never travelled completely alone outside of ole Sweden before. (Thank you Rickmaniacs for taking care of lil me last year. :D ) I only got a headache (due to dehydration/skipped caffeine dose), lost twice or thrice (though never far and only through faults of my own... Hey, a map wouldn't have been THAT heavy... But if I were a mugger, I'd zoom in on confused map people), possibly harrassed (it's a good thing I still have trouble with certain Cute Bri'ish Accents) and not mugged, raped or mutilated at all!

The fabness started when I popped into my hostel to check in. A guy behind the counter, he reminded me of Colin from Love actually btw, started the following cool conversation:
Colinguy: "Where are you from, sweetie?"
Yoze: "Me?! Sweden."
Colin: "Sverige?"
Yoze: "Eh?"
Colin: "Sverige?"
Yoze: "Oh... yup."
Colin: "What brings you here?"
Yoze: "I'm - SQUEE - gonna - SQUEE - see - SQUEE - a - SQUEE - play!"
Colin: "What play?"
Yoze: "My name is Rachel Corrie." (This was repeated in vain a few times.)
Colin: "Uhhh... *looks at coworker who shrugs* Never heard of it... Why did you come all the way from Sweden to see it?"
Yoze, seer of trendily unknown tiny artsy political plays: "One of my favourite actors is directing it, so..."
Colin: "Who is that, then?"
Yoze: "Alan Rickman! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" (Repeated ad nauseum (sp).)
Colin & Coworker: "WHO?!"
Yoze: *cannot believe londonpeople don't know about Him* "Seen Die Hard? Harry Potter? Ehehe?!"
Colin & Coworker: "Umm..." *shake heads* *mumble*
Coworker: "You know, Ewan McGregor works next door..."
Cool Yoze: "Oh, cool."

After throwing some crisp sheets onto my Ikea-ish bed and washing my sweaty red face and Rickmania-stinkin armpits I set off to battle the HUGE, HOT, PULSATING... city. (Yes, London was hot. Or maybe it was just me, thinking about the evening and mutilation.)

To avoid annoying Fate I went straight to the theatre and collected... my preciousss ticket! Then I looked around for the stage door. Just as the report had said, one was able to watch the entrance, bar door and stage door (which was in a dead-end-looking alley) from one street corner. Good to know in the future perhaps, hehe. But since I was 99% certain of Alan's distant whereabouts, I spent only 80% of the day watching the stage door alley. There was a great stone platform next to the theatre doorstep. Sunny side. Humongous Heathrow planes passing overhead. 700-page... geology... book... and... Slytherin... green... marker... pen... But the corner of my eye watched people passing into and out of the alley (er, bar door...).

With luck, I figured I might recognize the shape and colours and... *gasp*... smooth moves of an incredibly energetic man who would, I hoped, happily fly Canada-UK-Canada over one weekend to bless the final show of his play. I guess not. I guessed right. BOOHOO!!!

So, people, this long boring report is not going to lead up to any heavenly glimpse of Alan, if that's why you're still reading. :B *points and laughs evilly*

There didn't seem to be any fun shops in the area, so when I had lost enough Sprite and fangirly hope I found my way into the theatre's cool but cosy dungeon bar and tried to dream up which one of their white wines Alan had on April 7. :) Sadly I hate wine, so I asked for the orange juice mentioned in line #1 and sat and stared at the stairs, wrapping my head around the events from which I was separated by only... 23 days... and whatever distance Earth had travelled through space since then and whatnot, but I touched a lot of banisters that day.

I can't find the damn page in my old Bio-Potions book where it said (importantly...) how many protein molecules there are in a thumbprint, but it's dream-worthy number for a wee Rickmaniac risking infections from dirty old banisters.

And then I ascended the stairs described in the premiere report... The play was of course wonderfully directed! :D Though I tried to concentrate on the directing, I enjoyed the play itself more than I thought I would, since I also enjoy total political ignorance. And I suffer cruelly from lack of artistic insight on directing, hehe.

Anyway, Corrie was a great writer, and *cough* someone else *cough* is a great editor! (Hmm... I lack insight on editing too... Ah, what the hell! The result was cool.) Well acted, and funny where funniness was not, like, inappropriate. The room itself was quite tiny... (My god, if it had been Alan doing a monologue 4 m away for 1.5 hours... I wouldn't have noticed any mutilation. And I would have fought my fear of looking into people's eyes. :D ) The crowd was attentive, laughed easily and occasionally someone threw in "Oh!?" Awww...

According to the premiere report, no one coughed or moved during the first show. Hmm. I bet no one would have coughed here either if the guy next to me hadn't had a genuine cold. Weee. When the play ended, there was a long little silence studded with sobs. (Not from me... DAMN MY INSENSITIVITY!!! Hey Alan, I think you need to direct Black Beauty or something...) Then the crowd clapped their hands off (oops... mutilation theme resurfacing) for eons and Megan Dodds had to run back in twice.

The show must have been sold out too, because earlier I had overheard numerous desperate people asking to get in the line for unlikely return tix. In the theatre, it took a while before they managed to find seats (which were unnumbered) for everyone there. GO ALAN!!! :D

I wonder why exactly the gang of about three teenagers, one of them wearing a green dress, green socks and loads of black eye shadow, had come. (:B

I alley-lurked for a little while afterwards so that no new smart thought would hit me after I'd gone to bed, basically meaning "Of course Alan must have been there, because..." This never happened. Phew...

A while after I had gone to bed, unmutilated and fuzzy, some of my anonymous hostel roomies stormed in, hit the lights and rumbled about. I lay awake and thought "Ooooohhh yes... Please keep rumbling about so I can stay awake and thus think some more of how I'VE SEEN ALAN'S PLAY TONIGHT!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIH!!! FUZZZZZZZZZ!!!"

When my folks picked my up at the airport back home, Dad went "I read up on this Rachel Corrie, she was a lot like you I think!"
Yoze: "Ohhh! You think? *does not think often*"
Dad: "YES!!! She too wrote a lot of diaries and made lists of everything! Cool huh?"
Yoze: "..."
And I wear hoodies. And there's a baaaaad girl living in my room.

I also know frustration *rip tug arrrgh*, just like Corrie, and once in a while I get my arse off the wagon and become a "doer" in some way, but BLOODY 'ELL - she was a true doer, and in any case I don't do heroic things like bulldozer-wrestling, nor have I made burning speeches on poverty... especially not at age 10. Sniff.

So what have I done?
Written diaries. Worn hoodies.
1993: Read book about 50 things kiddies can do to save Earth and took it to my heart. The book will possibly save Earth.
2000: Read article on the consequences of education on overpopulation, etc. Education will possibly save Earth.
2003: Went closet vegan (as am paranoid I'm a lousy scary representative most days). Veganism will possibly save Earth.
2004: Heard Alan do a radio ad about Link Community Development and I thought it sounded like a good education-related organisation. Now I support them. Education will... hmm, you already know. Go Alan!
2004: Entered the Ranger Program at uni. Rangers (not always the Aragorn kind, exactly) will possibly save Earth.

However, I'm still horrible and none of the above required any guts. (THERE GO YOUR EXCUSES, PEOPLE.) Even if they will possibly save a piece of Earth, which is always nice.

Rickmania: Thinking about what you would have to do before Alan directs a play about your cool cool life. :9