Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Closing Night For The Hallelujah Girls

Saturday night was closing night for our local production of The Hallelujah Girls. If stage acting has taught me anything over the last year, it's that the craziest things happen on closing night. In advance of the curtain going up, I knew that several of my friends and fellow actors would be in the audience, so it was not much of a surprise to walk out onto stage and see the audience filled with familiar faces. I had heard talk of someone sleeping in the audience but was unable to locate that person.

At intermission, one of the board members of the theater approached me and wondered how my parents were enjoying the show.

"I don't see how they could enjoy it when they're not here. I told them I'd send them a DVD", I remarked.

"No, I'm pretty sure they're in the audience", the board member insisted.

My father is having health issues and would not be able to attend a play. And my mother is not the type of person who would surprise me by showing up to the play unannounced. I chalked the whole thing up to a big misunderstanding. The couple were probably the parents of someone else in the play.

When I went out for the last big scene, I head it. Snoring. And not just soft snoring. This was the snoring of a person in a deep sleep. I glanced around the audience and found that the source was an older woman in a wheelchair. The lady sounded like she was sawing logs with a rusty saw and it was disrupting the play, throwing all of us off of our lines. I didn't recognize her, though.

After the final curtain call, I worked my way through the crowd and absorbed all the accolades. The woman in the wheelchair was nowhere to be seen. As I grabbed my coat, one of the other board members asked how my parents liked the play.

"They couldn't make it", I said.

"You mean, that lady in the wheelchair and her husband aren't your parents?"

"No. Why do people keep saying that?"

"We were about to close the door when they walked in. I told them we were sold out, but they said their son was in the play and they pointed to your picture. I thought they were your parents, so I let them in".

Obviously, they were not my parents. And, judging by the way the woman was sleeping, probably not people who had an overwhelming desire to see the show. Whatever their reasoning for telling the front house that I was their son, they left without revealing it to me.

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