Girls Just Want to Have Fun

"Laughter is the closest distance between two people."

So, the other night I got together with three very funny and talented women to do some improv. We started warming up with "Snap, Clap, Stomp," which is closely related to but not to be confused with "Whoosh, Boink, Pow," a favorite of The Hamazons. The exercise forces you to stay in the moment: to watch, to listen, to be flexible and, most of all, to stay good hearted.

It was wonderful to play with women again. The room was filled with creativity and generosity. Adrienne and Kim did some "mirror" work that was astounding and Toni's "sound and motion" work had me laughing out loud. And, considering we were playing together for the first time, some very fine scene work emerged at the end of the evening. I am so pleased that we were able to work around our crazy schedules and come together. And I am really looking forward to playing again in September.

By the way, I never did hear from my old boyfriend and theater playmate, Tedd. But I have been recalling some old theater experiences, especially those that challenged my ability to stay in the moment and improvise.

Many years ago, I did a production of "Same Time, Next Year" at San Luis Obispo Little Theatre, an intimate venue with about 130 seats. The play opens with the two characters, Doris (played by Ellen Burstyn in the film) and George (played by Alan Alda), waking up in bed after a night of... well, you get the picture.

This is the way it was supposed to go: lights fade to black, John (my George) and I enter in the dark and get under the covers, lights come up as we're just "waking up." However, that is not the way things went on opening night. Yes, opening night, when all the critics were in the audience. The lights faded to black, we entered, and the lights came up while I was making my way around the end of the bed. Apparently, the director was supposed to cue the lighting technician after we were in place, but he got distracted with a patron. So, the tech did his best at estimating where we were and missed it by about five seconds. Which left me painfully exposed to the audience. Thank heavens I was wearing a slip.

After a moment of panic, I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I walked around the bed to my side, climbed under the covers, "fell asleep" for a few heartbeats, then "woke up" next to my George. We carried on as if nothing had happened and because we stayed in the moment, the audience stayed with us. We got a standing ovation at the end of the show... and I got a profound apology from the director.

As you can imagine, there are plenty of stories in my theater trunk. Tune in next week for another tale from my life on stage.