I went to one show, and I heard someone say, “Alisa Solomon is here,” something like that, and I looked up. I knew she was the very much esteemed critic from the Village Voice, and then, as luck would have it, we were both on the same train. It was an empty train car, late at night. I can look strange late at night in an empty train car. Little did I know, she’s a third-degree black belt in karate. I didn’t know this. So she’s at the other end of the car, and I’m like, “Oh man, here’s my chance.” Desperation. I’d go walking up to her. Little did I know, she’s getting ready to “Hai ya!” Luckily, she didn’t hit me, and allowed me to say, “Excuse me. You’re Alisa Solomon. I’m a desperate playwright. Where do I send my work?” She rattled off some places. She was very kind, very kind, and we’re still friends today.