A
few years ago I went to see a rather unusual play called TAMARA. The
theater is actually a mansion and the audience follows around the
various cast members as they perform their scenes simultaneously in
different rooms. The idea is to attend with a few people and each
person follows someone else. Then at intermission you get together and
catch everybody up. I know. It’s a lot of work. And the story is a
complicated mess. But it’s an experience and they serve chocolate
covered strawberries at intermission.So I’m following the cute little chambermaid (me and about nineteen other guys). In one scene she goes up to her room to get ready for a date. We follow her and stand against the walls.
She turns to me and starts talking to herself, excited about this upcoming rendezvous. Bad writing but that’s not the point. She’s imagining being in his strong embrace and how she’ll melt in his arms. And all the while she’s looking directly into my eyes.
The vibe is clear. This chick likes me. The suggestive dialogue, her bedroom eyes locked onto mine. There’s no doubt. For whatever reason I turn her on. I had just had a pilot not picked up and was feeling somewhat inadequate so to have this smoking hot girl pick me out of a room full of men really boosted my bruised ego. The hell with CBS! I was a stud!
So I start making eyes back at her, letting her know the Fonz has received the message.
And then I realized…
I’m standing in front of a mirror. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking through me. She was just playing the scene as if I weren’t even there. Talk about major shrinkage.
For the rest of the night I followed the Fascist Colonel.
14 comments :
That trumps the miserable moment of the cute girl waving at what turns out to be her friend behind you.
I saw something similar once, only not so "performed". It was a national park with a restored pioneer town. Chock full of historical goodness. Actors in period costume were on hand in most buildings, but they didn't just play tour guide or be living mannequins. They had this interlocked gossip thing going. The somewhat poorer house and the family within had a husband and wife gossiping about the rich folk and their foibles and and how she was glad not to have to work there today because of this croquet party. And at the big house, there are the rich folk playing croquet and gossiping about...
It was really neat how it all tied together in a loose, non-plot way.
If "Frasier" were still on, you'd have your story for the week right there.
And when the Fascist Colonel batted his eyelashes at you, admit it - you were a little flattered? I've had pilots not picked up and I know how that goes; you're just grateful someone's noticed you.
It happened to me on a winter walk home from work about 20 years ago, passing by a dry cleaners with one lonely sexpot making eyes at me from behind the counter. When I finally decided to cross the street for a closer look, I realized she was preening herself in her own reflection in the steamy window. That was a damn cold - and much faster- walk home.
So how'd you make out with the Colonel?
This joke made my day.
I have had this happen to me but it's neat to hear a retelling by a comedy master.
I had a woman come to my door looking for the previous tenant. She stayed three days. I mention this just to balance out your story.
That reminds me of the time I was given seats near the floor of a pro basketball game. A really cute cheerleader kept looking over at me during the game. I was thrilled until I realized that a guy dressed as Elvis was right behind me, standing up during every break, trying to get on camera.
Have you tried "Red Sea Pedestrian?"
BTW, you claim to hate Anonymous posters, but that is the easiest way to post on your blog.
I try to post under the Open ID option, but it rarely works the first time.
Link to Facebook and it might help.
But until you make it easy to post as not anonymous, Stop Complaining. It is your blog, you control the ease of posting.
Anonymous: The Name/URL option is insanely easy for posting. You literally just type a name (the URL part is optional), do the "prove your not a robot" thing, and you're done.
I have no control over the ease with which people post. Without word verification I'd be spammed to death. You can post as Anonymous if you like but you can also sign at the end of your comment.
And if commenting is too difficult then don't.
Ha! Glad I became a musician. Being on stage is far better than working in an office. Things have cooled (to ice) now I am older. But I remember the glory days. One year averaged four women a week for the entire year. The road.... Sleep with a muso and he or she is gone. No recriminations, no witnesses, no hassles.
I feel for younger guys who never got to play everyday.
He he.
Sorry. Could not resist. ;-)
The Chambermaid in the library with the rope.
Uh, what were we talking about?
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