The Lemon Life | online magazine offering a fresh perspective on post-grad life.

Words by: Tim Matson

Image by: MissTurner

The summer after I graduated from college, I went to work at a theatre in Michigan.  It’s one of those set-ups where a crew of college students and recent graduates handles jobs all over the theatre, from building sets and costumes, to cleaning toilets, to performing on stage.  To signaling cars where to park before performances.
The road past the theatre is a state highway in Michigan that roughly parallels Interstate 94.  In front of this theatre is a large field, which, every evening except for Mondays, becomes a giant parking lot for the patrons.  A team of guys wearing mustard-colored golf shirts directs each car where to park, leaving the lot just in time to jump into costume and be onstage for the opening number of Fiddler on the Roof.  Or Cats.  Or whatever the show is.
For ten weeks, I was one of those guys.
The work I did at the theatre was some of the hardest work I’ve ever done: everyday was at least a twelve to fourteen working hours; I worked in the shop building sets, painting sets, climbing ladders, hanging curtains; to top it off there were songs to learn and lines to memorize.  Most of us were there to be performers, but we spent our time with other duties for the chance to spend a couple of hours per night on stage.
But for an hour each day, all I did was flag the cars down as they entered the drive, and show them where to stop.  And watch other cars zip by on the highway.
At the end of August, I was driving one of those cars zipping past the theatre, heading elsewhere.  And I surprised myself by getting a little nostalgic about parking those cars.
I guess what I liked was the simplicity.  In any summer stock theatre, you’re putting up shows quickly, running around like crazy most of the time.  You’re constantly worrying about the new song you haven’t memorized, or the set that isn’t done, or whether or not the director hates you, because you keep getting chorus roles instead of speaking roles in the shows.  (I think all actors, consciously or subconsciously, have that going in the back of their minds, most of the time.)  But, that hour with the cars was a break from that.
Nowadays, I have credit card bills and student loans to worry about.  And whether or not my part-time job is going to make it or if I’ll have to look for something else.  And what I’m going to do next.
And I sometimes I wish I could just park some damn cars.
But, the other thing I liked about time on the lot was watching the other cars fly by, thinking about what adventures those folks were on.  And, not to sound to greeting-card-inspirational, but I figure I’m in one of those cars, on one of those adventures now.  Sure, I don’t really have the map yet, or maybe I haven’t found it.  But, I’m heading somewhere.
I sure miss the simplicity of parking cars. That’s a good memory from the summer at the theatre.
But as long as I’m on the road, I’d better enjoy the ride.

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