Friday, January 6, 2017

Women in the Age of Trump: FIVE TRIPS TO MORRISTOWN

FIVE TRIPS TO MORRISTOWN by Hal Corley is a semi-finalist for NYCPlaywrights project "Women in the Age of Trump."

HAL CORLEY has developed his plays with major companies (Seattle Rep, Syracuse Stage, Walnut Street, Premiere Stages, Adirondack Theater Festival). Three full-length scripts are published by Samuel French; his one-acts are in Playscripts' Great Short Plays Volume 10, and Applause’s Best American Short Plays of 2014-2015. https://newplayexchange.org/users/3114/hal-corley

Thanks to Hal Corley for allowing NYCPlaywrights to publish this excerpt from his play FIVE TRIPS TO MORRISTOWN.

4. Thursday

   (THE CONDUCTOR moves uneasily into an empty car.)

   CONDUCTOR

Denville, next, Denville. Tickets please. Tickets.

   (The YOUNG WOMAN appears, opposite, coming from the front; same dress, but heels, lipstick; THE CONDUCTOR's relief fades:)

   YOUNG WOMAN

Morning.

   CONDUCTOR

Tickets, all tickets.

   YOUNG WOMAN

So unfriendly. I could report you for that. Don't you want to know what I did yesterday?

   CONDUCTOR

Just hope you had a pleasant day.

   YOUNG WOMAN

What's that mean? Do they teach that, useless repartee, in Conductor Training?

   CONDUCTOR

Denville next, Denville. All tickets.

   YOUNG WOMAN

I walked in the rain. Multiple trips around that square. Without going in it. They call that something, don't they? Repetitive actions for some pathological purpose? What?

   CONDUCTOR

Really couldn't tell you, / Lady.

   YOUNG WOMAN

OCD. Did't include that in like your special ed I.E.P, huh? So I walked around the square thirty-seven OCD times. Finally this cop with dreds and one gold tooth stops me, all up in my face. “Something I can help you with?” “Yeah, bitch, get outta my way.”

   CONDUCTOR

My guess is, she didn't laugh.

   YOUNG WOMAN

You “guess?” Then she's like, “Got a problem, Miss?” I go, “Have I broken any law?” She goes, “Not yet.” Then follows me, on my tail halfway back to the train station, totally reeking of some “essential oil.” And I'm not even sure she was a cop, no badge on her tattooed tit, just an off-duty “security gua—“

   (THE YOUNG MAN has come through, reading his iPhone.)

Heeeey.

   (The CONDUCTOR watches YOUNG MAN start to sit; sotto voce:)

   CONDUCTOR

Y'know the quiet car is open. You might prefer that.

   YOUNG WOMAN

Heard that. That a dig? At me? Hey. Was that crack about me? / Hey!

   CONDUCTOR

If I were you, I'd take a seat in the forward part of the train.

   YOUNG WOMAN

To get away from me? Are you even allowed to give that kind of advice?

   YOUNG MAN

Why would I need to get away from you?

   YOUNG WOMAN

Look at you, Mark Jacob jacket? What kind of brief case is that, Kenneth Cole? Do all those fine accessories attract the little hot mamas? The maids, on the way to scrub toilets in Short Hills? Only girls you can actually hook up with, on a regular basis?