I had yearned to attend the Fringe since I first dipped my toe in the theatre world as a 70s NYU undergraduate. Back then, I heard how performers like comedians Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, and the members of the Monty Python troupe first garnered attention at this festival. I arrived in the city for Fringe 2024 ready to see performers who might be the next Cook and Moore, or even the next Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who first told the stories that shaped her Netflix show Fleabag at the Fringe. But, beyond the excitement of watching brilliant new performers, I came to soak in the stories of others…

My chalked fingers pushed into the grainy, brittle rock, rubbing raw against the simmering stone. The shouts of encouragement from my friends below were muffled by my concentration. As I looked up toward the rocks ridge, I glimpsed pink mountains rising above the chaparral valley. The ‘pink moment’ had been foretold all day, and it was finally happening. As I craned my head to see, the tiny speck of rock supporting my entire body weight gave way. I began to fall…