Performer embraces intimate Portland show

It was almost 8 in the evening, and I had just traveled from Medina, Ohio, to Portland, Maine. I was backstage in a small theater, pacing. The kind of pacing that tells you you’ve rehearsed enough and now your brain has decided to panic anyway.

Have you ever driven anywhere in Maine from Medina? It looks like a much shorter distance on a map. I hate to fly, so I drove. It took me nearly 16 hours, but I finally arrived the day of the show.

That night, I was supposed to perform an unlikely monologue I’d written, a story that somehow caught on and turned into a national tour. There had been press, local newspaper coverage, radio interviews. I even did NPR.

I mean, this was supposed to be one of those nights, the kind you imagine when setting out to make a creative impact on the world.

So, right as the clock hit 8, my stage manager walked over.

“Good news or bad news first?” she asked.

“Good news,” I said, already smiling. I was ready.

“The press coverage was incredible,” she said.

My heart jumped. Here we go.

Then she paused.

“Bad news. Only two people are here.”

Two people. In a 75-seat theater.

Apparently, the band Mumford and Sons was in town that night. And Portland, Maine, made a very reasonable choice.

My first instinct was to cancel, to spare myself the embarrassment, to pretend the night had never happened. But then I found out those two people, after hearing a profile on the radio earlier that week, had driven nearly three hours to be there.

Three hours. For my story.

They came because something in it connected with them.

So, I swallowed my pride, took a breath and walked out anyway. I joked about the empty seats. I made a few playful digs at Mumford and Sons for stealing my audience. And then I did the thing I came to do. I told the story like the room was full, like it mattered, like this was Madison Square Garden.

They laughed. They listened. They hugged me afterward.

They reminded me why I do this.

The next night was a sold-out house, the kind of night you tell people about.

But the truth is, that performance for two still sits higher than most. Because it wasn’t about the crowd.

It was about who showed up.