eBook - ePub
Stop/Over
About this book
A day and a night in the city that never sleeps.
A young woman arrives into JFK with time to kill until her departure tomorrow. She looks up an old college friend who lives in the city. With thirty-one hours till she has to leave, she's taken on a whistle-stop tour of the city.
Chronicling a night of debauchery and delicate connection followed by a difficult parting in the cold light of day, Gary Duggan's play Stop/Over asks what these little moments mean.
First performed as a rehearsed reading at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, in 2008, this new expanded version premiered at the Dublin Fringe Festival in September 2018, in a production by On The Quays.
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Yes, you can access Stop/Over by Gary Duggan in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & British Drama. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
A Crossing
M. Walking today. Just walking. No hurry. No particular destination. Hand-in-hand with my girlfriend. Not talking. Just walking. Content. Ordinary. Nothingā¦
F. Until?
M. I see her.
F. Her?
M. Yes.
F. Who?
M. You.
F. Me. Just here. Waiting.
M. For what?
F. Just waiting.
M. For who?
F. A lover? My brother? My husband? Someone. No one you know.
M. No one I know?
F. No.
M. I know you.
F. Yes?
M. Yeah.
F. It takes a second.
M. A glint of recognition.
F. A flash.
M. A momentary glance.
F. A flush?
M. Electric eye contact that transmits everythingā¦
F. So much.
M.ā¦in an instant.
F. I knew you.
M. A flicker.
F. You release your girlfriendās hand for a moment.
M. A smile.
F. A reflex.
M. Hey.
F. Hi.
M. No more.
F. Just that.
M. Then moving past.
F. Girlfriend didnāt even register a change.
M. But everythingās changed.
F. Now.
M. Since then.
F. When?
M. I knew you.
A beat.
F. This is now and then.
M. This is our place.
F. This is New York.
M. This is years ago.
F. Is it?
M. It is.
F. Jesus.
M. When you were young and your heart was an open book.
F. You used to sayā¦
M. I used to sayā¦?
A shift.
You look the same.
F. I do? Same as when?
M. Then. Last time I saw you.
F. Not older?
M. No. You havenāt changed.
F. I never change. Scary, huh?
M. A littleā¦
F. I would have liked to stay for longer.
M. I know. Itās okay. Iām just glad to see you now.
F. Thatās good. Me to.
M. Weāre gonna have a greatā¦ thirty-one hoursā¦ or whatever. Iāve everything sorted. You can just put yourself in my hands for the next while. Can you do that?
F. I think so.
M. I hate the airport.
F. How do we get out of here?
M. Shuttle bus to the subway.
A shift.
My place is on Avenue A.
F. Ah, Alphabet City.
M. Thatās right. Guy in a bar told me a little ditty about Alphabet City.
F. Oh yeah?
M. Yeah. On Avenue A, youāre alright. On B, youāre brave. On C, youāre crazy. And on D, youāre dead.
F. Nice.
M. Yeah, well, itās not as rough as it used to be apparently.
F. Orange and red chimneys protrude from roadworks running along the middle of the street, letting out thick clouds of smoke and steam.
M. There is the steady tune of police and ambulance sirens and honking car horns, rising and falling all around us like some insane music.
F. Is it always like this?
M. Yeah.
F. Crazy how intense just walking down the street feels in New York.
M. Itās like someoneās taken the city and cranked the volume and atmosphere all the way up. Some dangerous experiment.
F. We go to this deli. Best bagels in New York.
M. You been here before?
F. No.
M. How do you know that then?
F. Says it on the wall there.
M. Well, they are pretty good.
F. Iām sure they are. Why would they lie?
M. The radio is playing Ricky fucking Martin āLivinā La Vida fucking Locaā. Again.
F. I kinda like it.
M. What? Please be joking. Itās on every time I come in here.
F. And Iām going to start humming it any time things get awkward.
M. Please, donāt.
F. Itās not too late to send me back to the airport.
M. Iāll bear that in mind. Letās drop your bag into my place. Itās just around the corner.
F. Sure.
M. I gotta warn you, thereās a lot of steps.
F. Thatās okay, youāre carrying the bag.
Mās Apartment
F. You look good.
M. I do?
F. Yeah. Happy?
M. I guess, yeah. I fucking love this place.
F. You didnāt feel that way in that email.
M. That was ages ago. Iād just arrived.
F. You were lonely.
M. Not really, I wasā¦
F. You said you were lonely. An anonymous speck in the mad bad city.
M. Yeah, I suppose I felt that at first, but thenā¦
F. But then?
M. You start to realise that being an anonymous speck in the mad bad city is pretty fucking liberating.
F. It is?
M. Oh yeah. Trouble with Dublin, with Ireland, is, you canāt move without bumping into someone you know.
F. The morning after a night on coke or something and hereās your auntie coming out of SuperValu.
M. Exactly. No escape. Over here itās different.
F. Clean slate. Blank page.
M. More people between here and Harlem than in the whole of Ireland. The population of our entire country wedged into about a hundred and twenty city blocks. Think about it.
F. Crazy when you put it like that.
M. I love it. Takes a little bit of getting us...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title Page
- Contents
- Original Production
- Acknowledgements
- Characters
- Stop/Over
- About the Author
- Copyright and Performing Rights Information