I like being spontaneous. Some of my best memories are from acting on spur of the moment ideas. So when Sharnessa asked me if I wanted to go watch the last day of the local play, Spitfire Grill, and a friend happened to be performing in it, I jumped at the chance.
We walked into the small theatre. It only had seats for a hundred and we were in the front row, not two feet away from the floor level stage. Close enough that I worried I would get spit on by the actors and we joked about being part of the show. In fact, we were so close to an ax and chopping block that was sitting on the stage that during the play chunks of wood fell into my lap as they swung the ax.
The play was great and our friend did wonderful.
Unfortunately, as we were leaving, an older woman tripped and fell and we had to be rerouted out the back door.
Which went right by the men’s dressing room.
The audience filed out the little back hall and as we passed the wide open dressing room door, we saw our friend bending over to tie his shoe. We waved and hollered, “Good job,” as we shuffled behind the tide of people heading towards the alley out back.
Now, I have to say that the actors don’t normally have the audience walking past their dressing rooms. They never expected that the 100 people who just watched their excellent performance, were about to see a performance of another kind.
But just over Pete’s shoulder something white and shiny caught our eye. We slowed…our eyes tried to focus…our minds tried to comprehend….and I’m sure that our faces begin to register shock and horror.
The white shiny object just over Pete’s shoulder was the glaringly pale butt of a fellow actor, encased in the nastiest male thong I’d ever seen.
I finally managed to squeak out the words, “Uh, Pete, you might want to shut that door,” before the line of people behind us propelled us onward, out to the alley.
And we doubled over, cackling and crying with laughter, trying to navigate our way back to our car with the imprint of nasty white man-butt singed into our eyeballs.