BACKSTAGE | BILL HADER

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Otilia was in a bad mood by the time her plane touched down at JFK on Saturday morning. After an almost 9-hour flight, which she had been forced to undertake while hungover following a party she hadn't even wanted to attend in the first place, she felt her mood drop even further once she spotted the deep grey skies as she stepped out into the crisp New York air. 

The fact that New York felt crisp was a testament to how long she had spent on the plane — which had made her feel more like a zoo animal than a person. Someone had recognised her as she made her way through security at Charles De Gaulle in Paris and the word of her presence had spread like wildfire through the passenger list. Stepping out onto the pavement outside the terminal she sighed as the first sound of a camera shuttering reacher her ears and she turned to her left. A man rushed up to her, dressed in a grey hoodie carrying a large camera on his shoulder, and began peppering her with bullshit niceties in an attempt to butter her up for the camera. She turned away and shifted her focus to locating the car her manager had ordered to take her into Manhattan.

As she eyed up the number plates of the cars that lined the pavement she felt the tell-tale sensation of an uncomfortable heat prickling at her neck. She jostled her shoulders, as though trying to physically shake her anxiety form her frame — this was certainly not the time or the place form one of her little "episodes", as her mother called them. She continued her eagle-eyed search until her eyes landed on the number plate she had been told by her team before she had boarded the plane hours before. She made brief eye contact with the driver standing by the passenger door, signaling that she needed him to make this quick and easy, and she strode across the street ignoring the irritating buzz of the camera lens going off twice every second. The man escorting her to her hotel was, thankfully, a rather large man who scooped up her baggage in either hand and placed them in the trunk with ease before wrenching the side door open for her to climb into the car.

As the door snapped shut, the raucous noise emitted from JFK as well as the annoying man with the camera was reduced to nothing more than a hum of midmorning chaos, as sound to which she happily slid down in her seat and closed her eyes. As the car pulled away from the terminal and the Manhattan skyline drew closer, Otilia couldn't help but give herself something similar to a reverse pat on the back if that was even possible. Why did her anxiety always creep up at the most insignificant things? She could understand and justify the way she would feel before a show, most girls were practically shitting themselves, but to shut down the moment she encountered a singular pap with a camera? Her aunt had dealt with twenty of them shouting her face at once and she was a dentist, this was Otilia's job. This was what she was paid to do. Through the cloud of negativity, the words of her therapist Joanna wormed their way into her mind 'Remember Ottie, our greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another. She knew this was true but still she struggled to pull herself out of the hole of misery she was slipping into. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, her eyes landing on a large skyscraper that towered over the rest of the city around it. She let out a breath she had been subconsciously holding and imagined a newlywed pair and their baby living there and that the baby had just taken its first steps. And pushing back the thoughts from before she began to daydream about the ecstatic young family, not recognizing herself as the imaginary young mother clapping her hands in delight. 

Slowly the noise outside of the car increased as they drove over the bridge and into the magnetic hub that was Manhattan. The soft smell of pollution and something else wafted through the car and Otilia couldn't help but smile, she loved big cities and the smells they carried, even if they were disgusting they somehow calmed her. She pulled herself up and leaned against the window, her eyes glued on the chaotic scene of New York before lunchtime. Eventually, her silent tour was over as they pulled up in front of the Four Seasons hotel and she was forced to step out into the real world again. As the door opened she was greeted by a porter who offered to take her handbag, she waved him off as she stepped out onto the street and scurried into the lobby. her driver following close behind. She pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead as she looked around for the concierge before she spotted it in front of her and set off at an admirable pace for a person who hadn't slept properly for almost 48 hours.