The Tony Shalhoub story (by popular demand)

I had signed on to do this show. I knew everyone in it in some fashion and was jazzed. However, one of the guys who had agreed to do it got a lead role in Final Destination 4 (which I think is awesome and can’t wait to see). So a replacement was brought in. I had seen the guy in a couple of shows and he was very good. I had met him once, briefly. His name was Tony.

Anywho, during rehearsals, I make some joke about Tony Shalhoub (nothing hurtful, because I’m a huge fan of Mr. Shalhoub dating back to the movie QuickChange. He had a small role as a cabby in it but I remember being really impressed with him and I’ll often imitate his word for ‘bus’ in that film, ‘blufftonay’). So the director of the play says, “Better not say that around Tony because Tony Shalhoub is his uncle.” I figured the director was messing with me, but then one day in conversation Tony confirmed that yes, Mr. Shalhoub is his uncle.

Flashforward and the show is up and running and Tony comes to us in the dressing room and says his uncle may come see our show and asks if that is cool with everyone. I have to say Tony is a super, super nice person, on stage and off. And he was worried that it may freak us out or something. Apparently that had happened before and some actor had flipped out about it. Anyway, I was all for it. As mentioned, I’m a big fan of Mr. Shalhoub’s work.

So at the top of the show a week or two later (by which time I had pretty much forgotten about the Shalhoub conversation), I’m asleep in the audience, lying on the floor in the aisle. It was a gimmick as my character starts the show drunk. And I hear a voice. I heard lots of voices while laying there. Folks chatting about the show or making comments about me or whatever. But one voice sticks out. And I realize that Tony Shalhoub is in the audience and he’s in the seat beside where I’m laying. I mean, RIGHT BESIDE me. So the show starts and I stagger on stage and I have a good 5-8 minute monologue right off the bat. And it’s fast. I’m shucking and jiving, trying to make a sale. But I glance and I see that yep, he’s there. He’s sitting very low in his seat. He’s using both armrests but his hands are meeting in front of his face in a sort of ‘hmm, very interesting’ posture. It’s obvious he is giving his full attention to the show and he’s maintaining a low profile. He’s there to enjoy his nephew on stage (who was great, bytheway).

Fortunately, the show goes well over all and for me. Then comes the moment of truth. He’s in the lobby. I went ahead and made an agreement with myself that I wasn’t going to bother him. He probably gets bothered all the time and I didn’t want him to feel obligated to say ‘good show’ or whatever else folks feel obligated to say to actors after plays. So I walked right past him in the lobby. It’s swamped with people. He has a group of folks around him chatting. I use my high school cloaking device, my ‘please don’t beat me up’ posture that I used in high school to avoid confrontation (slouched shoulders, head down, hands in pockets). I scooted past. Would I regret not speaking to him? Maybe. But I tend to gush on folks I respect when I meet them. Better to maintain my dignity (see: the time I met musician Freedy Johnston and started telling him my life story and how influential he is to me and he scuttled away).

Then my director saw me sneaking by (to go see my wife and friends who were there, by the way, and were waiting outside) and turned me around and marched me to Mr. Shalhoub. And he was awesome. The super nicest guy that he could possibly be. Zero, I repeat, ZERO ego or attitude. And he said, “You were on fire.” I felt myself well-up, in two ways actually. It was awesome that an actor of his level said I did a good job and I had enormous pride in that, and it made me a little misty eyed. But I was also welling up in that a litany of nerdy things were bubbling to the top of my brain, most of them starting with the phrase ‘I loved you in…’. It was a compulsion to say that to him. So I ran away. I said, “Thank you for coming here, Mr. Shalhoub”, shook his hand and got out of Dodge.

Then I went on the front porch of the theatre and reenacted it all for my wife and friends. I’m sure my reenactment took about 5 times longer than the actual event did.

On the way back to the back to grab my bag, Mr. Shalhoub was still there and I looked at him as I went by and he said again, “On fire.”

And that was it. The Tony Shalhoub story.

I’d like to say that I completely maintained and never entered the nerdy exploration of info about Mr. S, but that would be a lie. I bombarded his nephew with questions the next day, and Nephew Tony (polite like his uncle) kindly obliged. Did you know that John Tuturro and Stanley Tucci and Mr. Shalhoub are all great friends and went to school together? I guessed they were and they are.

To put this all in perspective, I called my mom the next day to tell her what had happened. The first thing she wanted to know was if I had written the show. “Was this one of your shows? One that you had written?” I told her ‘no.’ “Oh,” she said and her voice became kind of wistfully distant. To add insult to injury she added, “Well, it would have been neat if it was.”