So opening night Friday went off without a hitch–except both my costars were sick. Sick-sick. Hacking coughing Typhoid Mary sick. The gal who played Molly hacked her way through the whole performance. There were a few blunders but for the most part, everything went well. Until Saturday.
I knew we were in trouble when I walked into the dressing area and saw the director getting dressed in Molly’s costume. Molly had become so sick, she couln’t talk so the director was going to be the understudy. I was panic stricken at first but then I went into an overwhelming sense of calm. This was so out of my hands that I was just…not going to think about.
We made it through the play with only a few of those awkward blank spots when no one knows what to say and a few of those, “so off cue that no one knows where to pick up” moments.
Yeah, those are always fun.
Also, about a nano second before I was supposed to go up and start the show with my welcome-welcome speech (I play the Emcee–in a white tux–as well as two other characters), I was slammed with a sudden stomach churning, gut wrenching, immediate urge to shit.
I was really tired so I drank a lot of coffee before I got there and it hit me all at once. As my dearly departed friend Tony used to say, “Ahhh, yes, the coffeeshit.” If you’re a coffee drinker, it’s self explanatory.
There I was in the teeny tiny bathroom within earshot of the entire audience (who’s patiently waiting for the curtain) giving birth to God knows what and hoping that running the faucet would somehow mask the methane explosions coming out of my…well, you know what I mean.
And for my next trick. . .
So we have a matinee performance this afternoon. I’m ambivalent about Typhoid Molly coming back. Do I want to hold my breath, bathe in a vat of Purell, take massive doses of vitamin C and Echinacea or go onstage and execute a random what-the-fuck-are-they-doing-up-there display of bad high school play community theater?
Can’t I just stay home?