Did that catch your attention?
So in high school, I was really into theater. I was in seven out of eight productions over the years, and my senior year I was even secretary of the organization. (Don't be impressed. I was the only one who applied. I don't remember doing squat. But I did get my name on a piece of paper.)
Here's the thing. I can't really sing. Or dance. Or even act. But I take up excellent background space.
My best friends always got the leads, and I was uber proud of them. No, really - I was never jealous. Although I did sometimes wish just a leetle bit that I at least had a name in a show - instead of the generic (and dreaded) CHORUS.
So imagine my over-the-top-giddiness when I was cast as a witch in the play Macbeth. Okay, so I didn't have a name, but I had LINES. And a lot of them! I practiced my double, double toil and trouble unto perfection.
We were awesome. And totally freaky.
Note: I do not have permission from these ladies to post this picture. Harmony, the one on the left, is still my bestest of besties. Am I forgiven, babe?
So opening night arrived, despite my nerves. And we totally stole the show. We were a hit!
.... and then, the school performance.
It was tradition to put on bits and pieces of the play during the school day, so as to entice the students to buy tickets and see the whole thing that night. It was kind of a big deal, and our reputations stood on the line. We were, after all, being scrutinized by the worst kind of critics. Teenagers.
We started off with our big cauldron scene. Dark. Lots of fake smoke. Flashy red strobe lights. Creepy voices. Circling the cauldron on an elevated platform, spotlights on us.
And Kat (the redhead in the middle) fell off the platform with an umpfff!
At first we didn't know what happened. She was utterly silent about the whole thing. I looked over and suddenly my co-witch had disappeared. With hundreds of my peers watching our every move, I looked down.
There she was, a look of utter panic on her face, as the stage hand under the platform pushed her back up. Shoved is a better word.
And I. Totally. Cracked. Up.
I laughed, giggled, spewed and snorted for the next five minutes straight. It felt like thirty. The other two witches had to say my lines as I succumbed to a complete and total laughing attack. The audience was laughing too - at me.
Did I mention this was supposed to be a tense, scary scene?
Yeah. I didn't get a part ever again.