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1100 Playwright Interviews

1100 Playwright Interviews A Sean Abley Rob Ackerman E.E. Adams Johnna Adams Liz Duffy Adams Tony Adams David Adjmi Keith Josef Adkins Nicc...

Stageplays.com

Aug 24, 2007

reprinted with permission




FROM THE DESK OF GARY GARRISON

GOOD SPORT, TRYING

While I was in Houston this past weekend meeting local DG playwrights and attending a fascinating festival of short plays by the really talented members of Houston/ Scriptwriters, something smacked me in the face - hard - and it wasn't the legendary humidity (though I have to say, that knocked the wind out of me more than once). I'll play the scenario for you. It's 5:00 a.m and I'm checking out of the hotel I've stayed in. A sleepy desk manager presents a bill to me. I scan it, look closer, review it one more time to make sure I'm reading it right, then look up to the hapless, sleepless desk manager and bark - and I do mean, bark - "This has got to be a joke, right?"

"What joke, sir?" asks the desk manager, managing to come to life.

"A sports tax? What's a sport tax? You're putting a 2% sports tax on my bill? What sport did I play while here?" I insist to know. I could barely say it without spitting it at the same time, and in this moment I feel every ounce of my identity as a New Yorker.

Now the desk manager clearly has a challenge: how can he keep a potentially explosive, sleep deprived, New York Southern Transplant with fire in his eyes from getting loud and unruly in the otherwise quiet lobby. He makes a questionable move: he decides not to fight me, but placate me.

"I know it seems odd, sir, but Houston passed a city ordinance in 1997 that allows a tax on hotel rooms and rental cars to help pay for new sports stadiums, which in turn, keeps our sports teams here."

"But I don't care about your sports teams," I blurt out.

"I understand," he assures me. But he can't understand; not really.

"I don't want to pay it," I posture.

"You don't have a choice," he counters.

"I should have a choice," I posture.

"But you don't," he counters.

"They're rich enough! They don't need my money. I can give you a list an arm's length long of people who really need my money."

"I understand," he quietly offers.

Now I want to strike him. He can't know in that instant I'm heart-broken thinking about all the theatres I know all over the country that are closing because they can't afford to pay their electricity bill; he can't know I'm thinking of dramatists who can barely afford a ream of paper to print a script on. He couldn't possibly understand that my rage is historical; I have spent years thanking artists with love and affection for their immeasurable hours of work because there isn't a spare dime to pay them for their efforts. He couldn't possibly know that my fury turned further inward on myself and my own community for not finding a way to convince every city council in the country that an arts tax on hotels and rental cars is AS important as a sports tax. And yes, I know the sports/arts argument: I've lived it all my life. But I foolishly, unabashedly want parity. I want to see a puzzled linebacker at a front desk, questioning his hotel bill and saying, "An arts tax? You mean, I have to pay for someone's musical?"

Gary
ggarrison at dramatistsguild.com

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