We were bamboozled into taking the job by a smooth-talking technical director with a pencil-thin mustache and a penchant for weirdness. How else do I explain my summer at the Cape Cod Melody Tent? Julio and I needed some legitimate theater work to put on our résumés, and the $50 a week they paid us was barely enough money to drink on. That is, once we figured out we could drive my dad’s pint-sized trailer to Hyannis, MA, from Chicago…and live in it under the guise of the “security†shack for the theater.
The summer started slowly as we
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