Live...From New York!

Saturday Night Live (1990)

In 1990, wanting to open my brother and me to all types of culture, my parents decided to take the family to New York City on vacation. I was ecstatic; New York was the home of Woody Allen, Saturday Night Live and fake Rolexes. We stayed in a hotel on 11th Street, two blocks away from the theater where Cats was enjoying an extended run. Every night, I fell asleep to the heavenly calamity of Manhattan traffic.

While I was in the city that never sleeps, I was determined to see Saturday Night Live. I was a massive fan of the show, and would beg my dad to let me stay up late on Saturdays to see it, and religiously watch the reruns from the 1970s every Sunday night on one of our local stations.



Unfortunately, getting tickets was not as simple as we had hoped. In our naivety, we didn't realize one had to order tickets many months in advance if you wanted to be guaranteed entry. But...there was a plan B – The Hard Way. We decided to camp out overnight on the hard green marble floor of Rockefeller Center with many other hopefuls, with the final prize, a chance to get free tickets to that Saturday night's show. With all that's happened in this world since 1990, I'm not certain if they even allow this any longer, but it was the best chance we had at the time to see the show.

It was a long night, and Manhattan was unnaturally hot that March. We were tired, cranky, and sweltering. Sleep was impossible. Line mentality started around 2am and we all became fast friends. Out of everywhere in the world, we were lined up beside two guys from Medicine Hat, Alberta. We bonded with these fellow Canadians who had made the pilgrimage, and exchanged jokes and addresses.

Some played cards, some slept. I wrote everything I could on the small scraps of paper in my pockets for posterity. Around 9am, the NBC ushers hustled us into a makeshift line and we were confronted with what we had waited for all night–a shot at getting in. There was a choice to go to the dress rehearsal or the live show. The dress, as the "regulars" told us was more relaxed and creative, and after watching, you can go home and see what they decided to cut or leave in. You're more of a "test audience" in the dress, since your laughter determines whether a sketch will hit or miss. (Not sure if they still do this, either.)

We chose the live show, since I wanted to see everything as it happened.


Again with the blue glasses...and what's with my hair?

If you walk through Rockefeller Center and just loiter, you're bound to see some stars. I was very fortunate and met my hero at the time, Dana Carvey. He was very sweet and kind (even though in her excitement, my mother called him “Church Lady”(!) as she took this photo). I still remember the feel of his thin back and his silky black baseball jacket when I put my arm around him.

After receiving our makeshift blue square tickets, the four of us bid our line mates farewell and went back to the hotel to sleep. I fell into an instant coma and dreamt of standing in a neverending line, that stretched as far as I could see, waiting for what seemed like forever.

A short rest later, we ventured back into the NBC building for the daily tour. During the tour (which I recommend highly!) we got to see the SNL cast doing a run-through of that night’s show. The whole tour literally halted so people could press their noses against the large glass panel that looked into the studio to watch Dana Carvey rehearsing a sketch with a George Bush doll that had extremely large genitalia. When we went that night, the sketch had been cut. Behold the power of the dress rehearsal. Or the censors...


I only still have this ticket because one of our friends decided not to go. The black marks on the ticket are from magic marker ink bearing our number in line on the other side.

The evening of the show, we arrived at 30 Rock at six o’clock sharp. After we flashed our precious blue entry tickets, we were whisked quickly past the security guards. Written in bold print on the tickets was the warning that no one under sixteen years of age was allowed entry to the show. My younger brother John was not yet thirteen and small for his age. (He's since outgrown us all.) And I was still under the legal line at fifteen. As we dashed into the studio, one of the guards at the door called after us, "How old is that boy?" Without missing a beat, my mother hollered, "Sixteen!" at him and kept moving. And with that, we both became illegal SNL stowaways. (Sorry, Lorne!)

Our backs pressed against the 8H's far wall, we squeezed together, trying to get as comfortable as possible in the tight space. There was no other choice–these were the “nosebleed” tickets we mere spontaneous mortals were allowed. Right in front of us were the large, complicated control panels that put the chyron wording on all the television screens. We could tell what the next joke was according to the queued up chyron message. My dad got brave and asked for the program notes for that night's show, consisting of a rundown of all the sketches and the cues for lighting, sound effects and other technicals.

It was the St. Patrick's Day show, so we were treated to Rob Lowe as host and The Pogues as musical guests.

Dennis Miller did the warmup before the show and was pretty funny. I had a crush on him then, so I was in heaven. The show was really good (there was a classic “Church Lady” with Rob Lowe being beaten for his sins - “Thank you Church Lady, may I have another?”), a silly sketch about helmet head ("Soapy water...soapy water?!"), and even a "Dieter's Dance Party" sketch (in which The Trout was invented)! I was as happy as a little girrrrl. ;) You can even hear my dad's booming laugh during some of the sketches.

I wish I could find clips of the show online, but stupidfreakingNBC has decided to put a stranglehold on them, so you'll just have to take my word that it was awesome.


Check out my Blues Brothers shirt!

I met Mike Myers on the night we saw SNL. Things were crazy after the show, and all he could mumble was "hi," before my mom snapped the photo.



Mom also snapped pictures of A. Whitney Brown, who was just recovering from a broken leg during that show, G.E. Smith and others. Chevy Chase was a surprise guest at the end and was bombarded with people (and strangely, fur activists), so we just have a few shots of him far away.

After the show, at 2 a.m., we roamed the streets of Manhattan, hungry and elated, finding ourselves at an all-night pizza joint that was packed. As we ate, we reminisced about the show, an experience I will never forget.

Read more of my Adventures in Fandom meeting celebrities here:

Early Kids in the Hall adventures

David Cronenberg

Life, The Universe, and Just About Everything

I used to have the privilege of saying that Douglas Adams was my "favorite living writer" - most of the writers I favor died at least fifty years ago, if not longer. Sadly, in 2001, Douglas joined my favorites on the other side, and with his passing, there is still a large gap in the writing world to this day. On this, what would have been his 58th birthday, I wanted to share my memories of this amazing writer, who will always be one of my favorites.



Douglas Adams

The Book Company, Sherway Gardens, Mississauga, Ontario (Canada), 1990

The first time I met Douglas Adams was in a bookstore in Sherway Gardens, a mall just outside Mississauga in Etobicoke. It was probably the prettiest mall around - small and unassuming with lots of nooks and crannies in which to hide bookstores and gift shops. In one of these corners hid The Book Company - a lavish, decadent shrine to literature, swathed in dark, classy forest green. From the outside, it looked small, but much like Dr. Who's TARDIS, once you got inside, it was very deep and comforting, like being back in the womb. I frequented it for its good prices and its ability to stock the best in British literature and comedy Canada had to offer.



As I was skimming through the paper on a lazy Saturday morning, I came across an ad for a book signing at the store. Almost weekly, authors graced its presence to sign their books and meet their adoring fans. Just the week previously, Nick Bantok (of Griffin and Sabine fame) was there. Yet the signing this upcoming weekend was of special interest to me. Douglas Adams was coming! The man who had made me laugh and smile through his series of books, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was coming to our little bookstore!

I had to go. I was ready to beg my dad to take me to the mall on a school night and meet the legend whom I had adored for so long. To my delight, he instantly agreed. I knew I had to come prepared, but I only had second hand copies of the books (I was in highschool still!) with price tags that said “reduced” on the covers. I knew this wouldn’t look good that I had not bought a “new” book for Douglas to sign. His latest at the time was Last Chance to See, which I unfortunately had not yet read. I decided to carefully peel the price tag off my beloved copy of Life, The Universe and Everything (my personal fave in the HHG series) and hope for the best.

We got to the mall early, and there was a small line already formed. I was amazed more people hadn't shown up – this was DOUGLAS ADAMS for goodness sake! I soon realized I had gotten there at a perfect time. A line soon began snaking around the store and out into the mall itself. My mother, in all her resourcefulness, had borrowed a Polaroid camera from our local library in hopes of getting a few shots of me and Douglas together. My dad held it safely in his hands; I knew I would probably drop it.

We waited and we waited, then suddenly, a huge shadow fell over the crowd. An enormous man in an even more enormous duffle coat shimmered quietly into the store. A smaller man helped the giant remove his coat and the man sat down at the small table, his long legs jutting out from underneath it. It was Douglas Adams.

When was my turn, I was so nervous and excited, I actually blurted out something really stupid that I can’t even remember. In the middle of signing my book, my father quickly asked Douglas to look in the direction of the camera and instructed both of us to “smile.” I felt a little embarrassed, but others in line were envious of my foresight to bring a camera. I still have that picture, tucked inside my autographed copy of the book, my conspicuous blue framed glasses hiding the elation in my eyes. The book (and the photo) are housed safely at my parents' house with my other copies of Mr. Adams’ masterworks.

And Last Chance to See? I did get around to reading it, and loved it. As I always say, I’ve never read a Douglas Adams book I didn’t like.


Harbourfront Centre, Toronto, Ontario (Canada), 1992

My second meeting with Douglas Adams happened in early 1992. My dad and I got tickets to see him read at the Harbourfront Reader’s Series in downtown Toronto.

I had written two pieces for my typing class, of all things, that were loosely based on his famous Hitchhiker’s Guide series. My teacher loved them so much, to this day, they are still used as examples with which students learn how to type. One was a menu, from Milliway’s, “The Restaurant at the End of the Universe”, and one was a mock front page of a newspaper, called “The Hitchhiker.” I brought copies of these pieces with me, with the small hope that I would get a chance to show them to my inspiration.

The reading was in a large convention hall in Harbourfront Centre in downtown Toronto. Dad and I got there early enough to be first in line and found ourselves seats right near the front. There were three writers reading – one from Australia, one from somewhere else, and Douglas. The three men filed in and sat down near the front.

I nudged my dad. “There he is!”
“That tall guy sitting at the front, on the right?"
I nodded vigorously.

We had about fifteen minutes to kill before the whole thing started, and I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce myself to one of my writing idols. I thought for sure I’d have to fight my way through the crowd, but although there were multitudes of eager fans there, they had no idea what Douglas Adams, their savior, their hero, creator of Marvin the Paranoid Android looked like! Perhaps it’s the curse of choosing writing as a profession – you’re never really "known" like an actor or a singer. I had met Douglas at a book signing not six months previously and also had the wherwithall to look at the back cover of one of his books, so I knew his face perfectly.

Two boys across the way approached us after they heard my excited outburst.
“That’s him?” they asked incredulously.
I nodded vigorously again, grinning proudly.

It was then that I took the opportunity to have my little moment in the sun. I will always thank my dad for making that night a little more special. He gave me the last pinch of courage I needed to go up and talk to one of my favorite writers. Dad reminded me gently that Douglas Adams was just another person and not some god, although in my mind then, it was only half-true.

Quietly, I approached Mr. Adams, hands shaking and said, "This is just a little something based on your work," and handed him those two pieces of writing done for my typing class. My last glimpse of Douglas as I beat a quick path back to my seat was a bemused look passing over his sharp features. (Hey, I was 17, I was shy, overweight and not a great conversationalist, especially when I had no idea what to say to the Douglas Adams!)

While we were waiting for the first Australian writer to come on, Douglas didn’t stick my pieces under his seat, he didn’t toss them aside or ignore them, he read them!!! I was aghast, I was in awe, I was honored! Douglas Adams was reading my writing!

As they were based on the Hitchhiker’s series, the short pieces were (at least I thought) rather humorous. And so did Douglas! Douglas Adams, one of my favorite writers, sat there, reading my pieces and laughing! He loved them! You could see the enjoyment on his face. I was so pleased, I was bursting! I had left my name and number on the back of both, but sadly, I never got a call. But honestly, having your work read and enjoyed by one of your absolute favorite writers is quite enough for me.

Even though there was a signing afterwards, (our two young men friends from previously had thought ahead and brought their towels for Douglas to sign), I didn’t bother to stay and get a signature, I had my prize for that night and for a lifetime.

You are missed, Douglas.

Happy Cronenberg Day!

In honour of director David Cronenberg's 70th birthday today, I wanted to share my experience with the man from all those years ago...



On a wintry February evening in 1992, three girls - Mellissa, Agnes, and myself headed down to TheatreBooks in downtown Toronto to meet the illustrious and mysterious Canadian director, David Cronenberg. Best known for helming such amazing horror films as Scanners, Shivers, Naked Lunch and my personal favorites, Videodrome, Dead Ringers, and Crash...then there's Rabid and The Brood, and...well, you get the picture. Cronenberg has recently branched out and done more "mainstream" work like Eastern Promises, but I'll always love his earlier stuff, and I've seen it all.

When I was about 15, I discovered Dead Ringers and then proceeded to go through Cronenberg's whole back catalogue, imbibing his flesh symbology and amazing visuals like a religion. He was my introduction to horror films, and I can't think of a better way to get one's toes wet in the genre. Cronenberg makes horror so chilling, and his situations are so possible, no matter how insane, that much like Clive Barker, he draws you into his intense world like a virus crawling through your bloodstream.

David was signing his then-new autobiography, Cronenberg on Cronenberg, which I believe came out in Canada first. All three of us girls had devoured the tome earlier and throughout the car ride down, we chattered about our favorite of Mr. C.'s films and what he might be like.

We arrived at Theatrebooks and all lined up, eager to meet him. Mellissa was first, and asked him his opinion on directing, since she was a budding director. Agnes had mostly come along for the ride and was the official photographer, but didn't have much interest in actually meeting the man.

Then it was my turn.

I'll admit it, I had a bit of a crush on the man. His work was just so amazing, and after reading the autobiography, we all agreed it felt like we all were able to get a bit of insight into his head and thought processes.

I can't remember what, if anything I said to him, but I was able to squeak out the correct spelling of my name and asked for a photo to capture this special moment. Agnes pointed the camera at us, and David very kindly said, "You should pop down a little, so you're in the picture better." I squeezed in a little closer and grinned as Agnes snapped the photo. (Note the gift at Mr. C.'s right hand - a small token of my fannish appreciation - pretty much everything I wanted to say folded neatly into a tiny gold box.)

After meeting THE David Cronenberg, we were all on a total high and wound up going to a late screening of Wayne's World. There is a line in this masterpiece (and I say that with all seriousness!) uttered by one of Wayne & Garth's crew:

"Have you guys ever seen that scene in Scanners where that dude's head blew up?"

to which we shrieked SO loudly in excitement over in the theater, I was afraid we'd be thrown out. But we were excited, and happy...and sixteen. Looking back, this picture makes me smile, because I realize my fangirling days have been happy and plentiful. Happy Birthday, Mr. C. Long live the not-so-new-yet-still-awesome flesh!

Having an Average Adolescence

Me and my favorite Kid, Bruce McCulloch. *sighs*

Elisa's Adventures at Kids in the Hall Tapings

I have to thank one television show for getting me through high school still sane. I remember the first inklings I heard of it in 1989. My friend Brenda's older brother worked as a stagehand on this new comedy show on the CBC, a large television station in Toronto. It was called Kids in the Hall. Brenda excitedly related the first episode (the hour-long pilot, which I hear is hardish to find now?) to me in full detail. Soon after, she loaned me the videotape, and I was hooked. We would recite the sketches verbatim down the greenish-grey halls of our high school, giggling at Bruce McCulloch trying to woo a senior (still one of my absolute favorite sketches) or Buddy's first appearance, or the amazing sketch with Dave and Mark where Dave comes out to his conservative dad.

But this was only the beginning...





I think I first found out about actually attending Kids shows from my friend Mai-Liis. With the sacred phone number in my hand, I dialed excitedly, leaving my name and number after an answering machine message with the voice of a bitchy Scottish lady who was in charge of audience relations. Every time after this first call, instead of saying we'd call for tickets, we'd say we were calling the Bitchy Scottish Lady, our secret code that we'd gotten Kids tickets. Not so surprisingly, it was amazingly easy to get tickets, and I ended up attending around nine tapings of the show over its 5 or so year run.

There were usually two tapings - an early and a late one. We usually attended the earlier one at around 7:30pm and the first time, I went with my family. Outside the small CBC building in downtown Toronto, my mom, dad, brother, and I joined the anxious line of fans standing outside in the freezing cold. From behind a wrought iron gate, we could catch glimpses of the cast.

"Hey, there's Mark McKinney and he's...smoking!" someone whispered.

A gasp ran through the line. It was a big deal to see that even Mark, a near-god, had a bad habit. We filed into the small studio, a herd of excited cattle and I ran for the front, taking my place on the hard wooden bleachers. I knew I wanted to be as close as possible to the action. As we sat waiting for the show to start, the Kids mingled around, chatting with the audience. That's the odd, but wonderful thing about Canadian stars. We, the public treat them like normal people because they act like normal people. There is no strange aura of celebrity glowing around them. They merely have the job of working on television. There may have been a bit of awe about them, but it soon dissipated into friendly, almost comfortable joviality.

Take our first experience with the Kids. Sitting on an end of the uncomfortable wooden bleachers, my dad came face to face with Bruce McCulloch.

"Hi!" said Bruce jauntily, "My name's Bruce, what's yours?"

A simple twist of fate brought the perfect comic answer. My dad's name is Bruce.

"Oh, you're a Bruce, too?" Mr. McCulloch said excitedly. "You look like you need a hug."

And he embraced my startled, mostly-homophobic father warmly. To this day, this is one of my dad's favorite anecdotes. He's still proud to be hugged by "the other Bruce."

As soon as the show began, our ears were assaulted with a live band. It was Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet. The band stood on a small, precarious scaffolding that acted as a makeshift stage. After the familiar theme song was played ("Having An Average Weekend") we were treated to over two hours of Kids mayhem. Much of what we saw ended up as sketches that spanned several shows. Some of the sketches taped were never seen on television.

After this first taping, I went with my friends every other time. I went several times with my friend Mai-Liis and took people along with me subsequent times. The maximum amount of tickets you could get at one time was 4, so we always did any combination that included me and then friends, or whomever wanted to go. Kids was still underground, still unknown. We felt like we were part of this cool, fresh experience that was just gaining speed. Like we were part of a private society. And it was wonderful.

Below are some small anecdotes I can remember from my attendances:



• I once held a brief conversation with Scott Thompson while he was only wearing a towel. Can't remember what sketch it was for, but he came right into the audience and sat down, casual as could be. (Again, no "glittery stardom" in Canada, we're all just people.)



• My friend Mai-Liis made a photo mug for Dave Foley. Said mug is featured in one of Dave's monologue sketches. (Can't remember which.) It has a photo of Dave, his wife, and their then new baby on it.

• As I mentioned previously, there is a shot of the audience shouting, "Show 18!" in the "Touch Paul Bellini contest" sketch (Canadian version). I am in the bottom left corner with the silly hat on. (I thought I looked cool back then). For some reason, they use another version of this sketch for American television. It's cut poorly and not so funny.

• The studio where Kids taped was dingy and old and very, very tiny. It actually was rumored to have been torn down after they finished taping there. I'm not certain if it actually was though.

• Some sketches we saw taped never made it to air. I think a Sir Simon Milligan (that was hella funny) never did, unfortunately.



• The Kids in dresses shirt you see me wearing in some of the photos is signed by all the Kids and hangs in my closet back home. They sold both the Kids in dresses shirt and the Kids with guns shirt at the show (I think!) and they also gave out free buttons, like the one on my jean jacket above. I hear they're rather rare...

• We had to stand outside in the freezing Canadian winter before we were herded into the tiny CBC studio. It was so worth the near-frostbite.


Mark said, "Let's all look away from the camera." The result. XD That's me on the left (eek!) and my hot friend Lynda on the right.

• I embarrassed myself by telling Mark McKinney he looked better as a woman. He said, "Thanks...I think!"

• In the sketch, "The Affair," you can hear my friend Erika's mom guffawing during the scene when the woman pokes at her stomach near the end of the sketch. She has a unique laugh and it was really sweet to hear it, especially since she has passed on. :(

• Bruce was notoriously absent from the meet and greets after the tapings, but I finally met him at the last one. *sighs* In the photo at the top, he is pulling up my shirt because I swear he saw me fiddling with it in the front row. I had bad anxiety back then and was fiddling with my shirt nervously.


Jamie just a leetle happy to meet Scott

• My friend Jamie stole Scott Thompson's styrofoam coffee cup from the trash after Scott drank from it. He was a little obsessed with Scott, but I probably would have done something similar as a teen.

• I was at the very last taping for fans of Kids, before the second, later press taping. It was a wonderful way to see them, and my high school years off.

• Seeing Shadowy Men live every time was incredible. I made myself a SM shirt (wish I could find a pic as it was probably one of my very first fan shirts I ever made!) and have many of their CDs.

• Interestingly enough, two of the above photos were actually used on the last Kids' tour. I got a little miffed (mostly because they cut fat me out of both of them and my schoolfriend Lynda is still there!), but they also used them without my permission. I've pretty much forgiven the Kids as from what I gather, they didn't know.

• Just found two more photos from tapings Mark and me here and Kevin and me here. Again, please no comments about my hair & glasses. I don't know what I was thinking back then. :P

• Even more photos here:

Bruce signing for fans

Dave, me, and my friend

Kevin in a towel?!

All in all, a totally fun time, which I shall remember fondly. Now I hear the boys are coming back to television (to air first on the CBC, natch!) And I can't wait! :D

(And please, no harsh comments about my hair.) :P