There is a period of time immediately after the boatsteerer harpoons a whale. The harpoon is attached to a line a quarter-mile long, and when the whale splashes away in surprise, the boat's crew must know when to pay out this line to avoid being pulled under, and when to haul it back so they don't run out of rope. All this time they are being dragged along at twenty miles an hour until the whale tires. This is known as a "Nantucket Sleighride." Jen and I are in this boat, and we've just added a crew of twenty-five actors, designers, and technicians.
I have decided to enjoy the Sleighride. Before rehearsal starts, before the set is constructed and the props procured and the costumes built, before the critics have their say, let me have my own! Let me shout my thanks to friends and family and colleagues who have contributed, to my fellow artists and artisans, to my wife Jennifer for producing this monstrosity (a job whose outline you will never truly know the breadth of), let us all hang on to that rope for dear life and yell "someday, we'll look back on this and laugh."
I believe I will begin laughing now. There truly is no better time than the present.