Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain 2003-11-05

Yep, we're need deep in AmCel now. If I stop making sense, please keep in mind that I'm fighting off delerium to type this.

What is AmCel, you say? That's our yearly fundraiser. A night of musical theatre and dinner, catering to the especially rich and tasteless of California. Last year, we raised a million dollars. For the past three years, my part's been the stage manager of the damn show. For the three years prior to that, I've been involved, either onstage or off, in some form or another.
6 years of AmCel. And for every single goddamn year, I've been sick during AmCel. Yesterday, I felt fine. No problems. Today? Today I woke with a scratchy throat, and every hour or so, some other affliction or ailment gets added to the mix. But the show goes on, right? It must.

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So, I walk to Starbucks tonight for my daily dose of Chai. I order my drink, and the guy behind the counter says, "Name."
I reply, "Mike." But as I did, I knew I was lying. Mike is just the name I give out of habit, the one that comes easy to the lips. I had some other name, but I couldn't remember it, so I gave them Mike.

Of course, the part of my brain that's not delerious knows that this all stupid. Of course my name is Mike. It says so on my birth-certificate. It says so on my drivers license. It's my picture on the drivers license. My name is Mike.

And yet, I keep wanting to deny it. My name is... I don't know what it is, but it isn't Mike. They've been lying all these years.

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So, at this point, I realize how unwell I really am. And then I remember that I need to update this guy. It's been three days, after all.