Think Fast for TWW 81

[Three Word Wednesday gives us funny, remember, theatre. Those words evoked this memory.]


I was in the Junior Class Play when I was in high school. We performed George Bernard Shaw's Arms and the Man, and we did quite well (in spite of the male lead giving us panics that he wouldn't have his lines learned in time). But the next year, we were looking for something much lighter. We chose a play called No More Homework by John Henderson, a fluffy piece set in a high school.

I should say that my high school class of about 125 kids had very few who were interested in theater. We had to recruit. And when we ran out of people to fill the cast, we tapped one or two people from the junior class. And for the crew, we pulled from other classes too. My brother was a sophomore and he was helping to run our sound effects.

The play was quite entertaining and we were having a lot of fun in rehearsals. Our dress rehearsal didn't go smoothly, but we took that as a good omen (you know, "bad dress rehearsal, good performance"). The dress rehearsal wasn't a disaster, so we mixed cautious optimism with our jitters for the opening night.

The room in which most of the action takes place is the "school office" where the officers of the Student Body organization are filling in for the principal, vice principle, and secretary, all of whom have been called away or fallen ill. I played the part of the Student Body President, and so was the Principal-for-the-day.

As I remember it, there was a point where I was supposed to walk to the doorway. On my way out, a phone was supposed to ring and my parting line was, "Answer that, will you, Shalimar?" Then "Shalimar" complains about my being so high-handed and the conversation continues from there. So there we were on opening night, at that scene, and I walk to the doorway. I pause, waiting for the phone to ring. And I wait. No phone. No ring. No reason to say anything.

So I have some choices, but I have to think fast. I can:
1) stand there looking stupid until my brother plays the phone noise;
2) walk out and leave the others with no way to gracefully move into the next conversation;
3) make something up.

I don't remember consciously thinking about those things, but my brain must have been whirring at supersonic speeds. I turned in the doorway and announce, "IF the phone rings, answer it, will you, Shalimar?" I then exited to see the pale face of our faculty advisor beaming at me. Two steps later I heard the phone ring. What a relief!

I'm sure I gave my brother a hard time (and I vaguely remember him grinning while I did). I'm pretty sure he thought the whole thing was funny. But on our second (and final) night the timing of the phone ringing was absolutely perfect.