The World's A Stage Anonymous

I feel myself jump as the ground shakes, and Horace Vandergelder storms out. My heart beats, and all I can think is to wait for it, wait for it—dialogue, more dialogue, finally singing… “And now that we’re dancing who cares if we ever stop!” That’s our cue. I dart from my position behind a set piece and turn the wrench, bracing my ears for the grating screech the set makes as it splits in half. Scene change time. As us stagehands push the set offstage, then ensemble streams into the middle of the stage to continue the number. Having removed the set, we know quietly sing along in the wings, watching the flourish of costumes as the cast begins to dance. It was opening night, and everything was paying off: from the hours painting and assembling the set, running through the show, and for me, the initial decision to join theater.

I wouldn’t have expected it to happen. Prior to theater, my robustness in class quickly morphed into timidness the instant I stepped into something unfamiliar. So when my friend asked me to join theater, I inevitably declined. “But it’ll be fun, and we need more boys!” “Eh, but I don’t have the time…” Yeah right. More like you’re not willing to sing and dance on stage. “Okay, then how about be a stagehand?...