On January 1, 2000, I was in Darjeeling, India standing on a hilltop watching the sunrise. As the sun came up, the sky spread into each of the colors of the spectrum, quite literally, a Rainbow. I was an actor at the time and a play had taken me to India. My personal life was no less colorful than that auspicious beginning but far more tumultuous.
On the day of The Attacks, I walked across the 59th Street Bridge back to Queens, feeling like a refugee, with what must have been hundreds of thousands of people. Fortunately, there was someone waiting for me on the other side. Years later, on the day of The Blackout, I again found myself surrounded by thousands of people in the streets but this time there was no panic, no fear. It really felt like a big party, like all of the best parts of a New Year’s Eve celebration. It was cathartic, for me at least. I ran into so many people I knew. I was reminded of how good people can be.
In August 2004, I unwittingly made the shift from actor to producer with a play called Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead by Bert V. Royal, which I produced at FringeNYC. I was also bartending at the time and one night I walked in to work late because I was rushing from one of the shows. A handsome stranger from England was sitting there so I introduced myself with a shot of tequila and three days later the words “You’re going to be my husband” flew out of my mouth and into the face of said stranger.
I don’t particularly remember August 14, 2005 but eleven days later I was at Brooklyn’s Borough Hall getting married. Some people may have assumed I was pregnant; most people thought we were crazy. Maybe we were a little crazy, but we’re still married and we did eventually get pregnant. For my piece, I was interested in exploring the way two people who love each other argue. To prod the way emotions can flare to anger then fizzle and the next thing you know you’re in an embrace discussing what you’re going to have for dinner.
The Noughties taught me many things but these are some of my favorites: New York City is really just a very big small town; a well-groomed man could be a metrosexual; there is a fine line between a hipster and a bohemian; no matter how busy we are, we always have time for the people we need to make time for.
Get to know…Sorrel Barnard.