On U.S. soil

We knew it was too good to be true. Had the U.S. ambassador to China really invited the cast of “42nd Street” to his residence at the Embassy in Beijing for a warm, welcoming dinner? Why yes, he had, and so 28 of us dressed to the nines, some wearing our newly-tailored suits, others wearing Jeans or dresses and pearls, and we all hopped on the bus at 3pm Friday afternoon to make the two-hour trek up to Beijing for the party. Half an hour into the ride, we got a call from the Ambassador’s wife telling us we had to sing for our dinner. Literally. Or she would cancel. Too good to be true, indeed.

With no music, no preparation, and after a whole lot of infuriated bitching, we acquired a few fake books and show scores from our producer in Beijing and had him bring them for us. Gershwin, Cole Porter, A Class Act, and Pippin. Three hours (not two) later, after hours of Beijing traffic and an outrageous pit-stop at an office building so we didn’t pee ourselves on the bus, we made it to the Embassy residences, went through security, had our passports scrutinized, and then…poof…we were on U.S. soil. Christmas trees lit up across a large marble walkway, beautiful two story houses with two big red doors bearing wreaths and holly, and Michael, the assistant to the Ambassador waiting at the door to meet us.

Perhaps it was because I had seen “The White Countess” the week before, but I felt like I was in a movie. The house was perfect, complete with a fifteen foot Christmas tree hugged by a red-carpet winding staircase in the foyer, twenty or so “suits” walking around holding glasses of wine and name tags telling what country they were the Ambassador of. The family dog ran around greeting guests through his muzzle while Marvin, the “residence manager,” mingled, making sure everyone was content and the evening went smoothly.

When it came time to sing for our dinner, I had already downed a G&T and a glass of California Red, so I was rightly warmed up to amuse the crowd with my “I’ve never auditioned for an ambassador (or six) before” joke (that went over great!) and launch into my rousing rendition of “Corner of the Sky” from Pippin (not my choice. Don’t judge) after which the dog attacked me with kisses and howling. We paid our dues, the Ambassador spoke and we cheered on his wife to sing for us considering it was her idea for us to sing for her. She begrudgingly conceded with her “oh please, no, I couldn’t…I can’t (reaching for the mic)…no, really…’getting to knooow youuuu…’”

Dinner was served, which really meant opening up the gigantic “wall” to reveal a dining room complete with chandelier and a gigantic painting of Bush over the beautiful spread of food that resembled everything but China. I had trouble holding an appetite with the painting overhead, so we all went to the living room and stuffed our faces there, talking with ambassadors from Thailand, Britain, Sri Lanka, the U.S., as well as their wives, husbands, and families…not to mention the hordes of other important international people, chatting about the show, about soldiers in South Korea and the election coming up, and getting drunker by the minute.

The entire night was surreal. It’s a shame I didn’t need a U.S. visa or any other political favor, ‘cause that would have been my chance to get it done! For two hours we felt like we were not in China, resting our glasses filled with American Wine on American flag coasters and eating American home-cookin’ style food. As people filtered out and we took a picture in front of the big Christmas tree, I looked back into the living room; a perfect picturesque moment, a dimly lit living room, a grand piano, a chandelier and coffee tables and couches, and the house dog sitting quietly on the carpet, poised, ready for bed. One step out the gate, back into China, and the first thing I said was “I think the air even smells better in there.”