Off Script
When I was in the 6th grade, I landed the lead role in the school production of "Hansel and Gretel."
We had a fantastic theater teacher, Ms. Babcock, who directed all of the La Fetra Elementary plays -- and I mean, fantastic. Make-up, costumes, sound and scenery done by parents and many professionals from the nearby movie industry.
I'd had other roles so I knew the dedication and rigor Ms. Babcock expected and applied. We rehearsed for weeks, had multiple run throughs and dress rehearsals. You didn't know your lines or understand the blocking for a particular scene? Get ready for the understudy to stand in, or potentially take your place.
On opening night, my co-star, Tony Fumois, and I ran up the aisle between the two audience sections, headed toward a set of stairs leading up to stage. We'd practiced this scene loads of times.
On this occasion, I missed the first step, and while moving at full speed, slammed the shin of my right leg onto the ridge of the solid wood riser.
A collective gasp rose from the audience.
The pain was indescribable. I grabbed my leg reflexively, unable to speak or move.
At this point, we were off script, in completely uncharted territory. Nothing remotely similar had happened during the many hours of rehearsal. And whenever I recall this experience, I think of the chaos that could have ensued -- not to mention, the experience of the other actors and the audience.
But that is not what happened.
Without missing a beat, Tony placed her hand on my shoulder and, in her best stage voice asked, "Hansel, are you all right? That was an awful fall."
Rubbing the now egg sized knot on my shin, I replied, "It really hurts, but I think I'll be OK if I just 'walk it out,'" adding, "I hope this isn't a sign of things to come."
A roar of laughter followed and the play went on.
The next day, while reviewing the performance together with the cast, Ms. Babcock told us that a couple of the parents in attendance told her how "realistic" they thought the fall was, suggesting it added surprise and drama to what they expected would be a pretty pedestrian experience (no pun intended).
Me? I learned an important lesson.