Matinee From Hell

The Saturday matinee was going quite well until my costume change into "Go West" went awry when my dresser's glasses were knocked off his face. What has always been a very quick change became a jumble of clips and buttons that refused to co-operate and I found I had seconds to spare to make my entrance into the number. So I ran like the wind in the darkness behind the "flitter" curtain, tripped and slid like a first baseman across the stage floor, badly skinning both knees and my hand. I knew my stockings were torn, my wig was over my face and I was badly bleeding but I hurtled on to the stage as if shot from a cannon, only slightly late. All I could think of was that there was nowhere for me to repair the damage as I was now in full view of the audience until the blackout before the Broken Hill pub scene, a good ten minutes away. So all I could do was keep all movement to a minimum so that my bleeding knees remained hidden by my skirt. But my woes continued to mount as the afternoon wore on. When the aforementioned blackout came I was so busy assessing my injuries that I forgot to jump off the bus to make my next costume change. As I was now trapped upstage against the back wall the scene change had to be halted while I found my way off in the darkness, so that loused up everyone's entrance onstage into the pub scene. Then, changing into my next costume on the bus after "True Colours", my dresser had mistakenly brought me my Ayers Rock "We Belong" outfit instead of my leopard skin leotard, which meant I was stuck in the wrong frock until interval. On top of all this, my wig guy at this performance was a trainee who was having a terrible time remembering
how to put my locks on straight so that wasn't helping. Interval was spent cleaning and bandaging my wounds and putting on a whole new set of tights, which is quite a production with the corset, etc, so I was worn out by the time Act Two started , and no sooner had we hit the stage than I heard Will Swenson gasp, "Oh no!" He'd been having a fairly shockin' show himself so his horrified exclamation came from having spotted a familiar face in the audience. "Do you want to know who it is?" he whispered. "NO!", I replied, "Tell me at the curtain call." So, naturally I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering who was the celebrity witness to this debacle. I got through the 2nd Act without major mishap and during the curtain call gave my usual fundraising speech for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Then my castmate Tad Wilson auctioned off a backstage tour led by me to the highest bidder. The bids were coming thick and fast, and at one point Tad said "700 dollars!" Turning to me, he said out of the side of his mouth, "Shirley MacLaine just bid 700 dollars for your backstage tour."

That's right, folks. Our mystery guest was the legendary Ms. MacLaine herself.

She could not have been lovelier or more complimentary. I told her of my grievous injury and whined like a five year old that I'd been off my game but she was having none of it. She was astonished that I was still doing the show after so long without getting the "road blues", she was gobsmacked that we receive the same roaring ovation at every performance, and she couldn't wait to find out who in the cast was straight and who was gay!

She's in town flogging her latest book and was off to catch the evening performance of BOOK OF MORMON. I hope they managed to get through the show without shedding blood for Shirley!