I've come to the conclusion that I am missing out on something. I've witnessed so many meltdowns lately, and I'm not sure I have ever had one. Weeks ago, I promised to tell you about "The Tuna Meltdown" one of my Yum Yum brothers had in Vancouver. I have failed you, gentle reader, but I will make it up to you now with, not one, but TWO meltdown stories.
On the second night of our trip to Canadia, the Yum Yum Brotherhood convened for sushi and cocktails and cocktails and cocktails. Marco asked several questions about the Red Tuna.
He ordered the Red Tuna.
They brought him the Red Tuna.
Immediately, Marco's panties started wadding up. "What is THIS?" he asked our baffled elegant Japanese server.
"That is tuna, sir," she answered.
"It looks different than HIS tuna," Marco said as he pointed at his partner's plate.
"His tuna is a different tuna. But you ordered RED tuna," she politely answered.
Apparently the red tuna wasn't as white as the other tuna. It was more, well, red.
Back and forth it went. Fifteen minutes of discussing tuna. I continued eating until Marco erupted, "I am trying to figure out why my tuna looks different and NOBODY AT THIS TABLE WILL HELP ME!!!"
I didn't know how to help him and told him so. I'm a vegetarian. I know only slightly more about tuna than Jessica Simpson does.
He continued ranting even after the waitress offered to bring him different tuna. We all ate and tried to change the subject. He kept talking about his Red tuna.
I am a very calm patient person by nature, but enough was enough.
"Marco," I said. "I love you, but if you don't shut up about the tuna I am going to kick your ass."
Problem solved. He laughed and made a valiant effort to recover from his tuna meltdown. I felt really strong and cool. Like a cross between Judge Judy and The Rock.
Last night at rehearsal for our late night show "Thrust", there was more drama than an episode of "The Real World". Our director, Sybil, informed us that we needed to have less sketch comedy and more real-life scenarios in our show. Her intent is to portray sexual situations in a way that is relevant, but not zany. We listened and agreed. Most of us did.
The Ex-Con went into a tirade about the change of direction. The new material wasn't going to be funny or interesting. It would be boring. Nobody would want to come see the show.
I suggested that maybe we should write some new material, taking Sybil's new direction, and see if it works or not. Then we could critique the work once it has been written.
"I'm allowed to fucking say whatever I want," he screamed at me. "Sybil asked if everyone was happy, and I'm not fucking happy!"
Wow, I can't wait until the Ex-Con and I play lovers in the show we're doing later this summer. It will be so reminiscent of my happy days with my ex, CT.
Since I didn't know what to say in reply to the Ex-Con's fury, I didn't say anything. I felt embarrassed for him, but I know he has a right to express his opinion in whatever way he chooses.
Sybil didn't feel the same way, apparently. She started yelling back at him. I was waiting for someone to flip over the coffee table and storm out. We took a break so everyone could calm down, and I sat there aghast.
I don't understand meltdowns. Don't people realize how silly they look when they are losing their temper over food? Or theatre productions?
On the other hand, having a meltdown could be kind of fun. You get to rant and scream like you are on Melrose Place, except your "audience" doesn't get a commercial break. We can't change the channel.
But we CAN go to Cleveland and get away from it all for a few days.