Extremely Wowed and Incredibly Gross

“At least it hides the face partly. Well, so you have the apparent face, the apple, hiding the visible but hidden, the face of the person. It's something that happens constantly. Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.”  ~Belgian Surrealist Rene Magritte regarding the above painting titled "The Son of Man".  (Oil on canvas; 1964.)

Personally, all I felt was some bizarre flux in my highly advanced molecular acuity regarding my childhood sit-com-related obsessive experiences, when suddenly my left arm flung wildly out of control for no apparent reason and randomly knocked a can of Diet Coke all over the floor. 

“Oh I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry…” I apologized profusely as our Stage PA handed me a roll of paper towels and wheeled a trashcan near me for me to do a quick goopy clean-up before our Cast began their table reading.

What on earth was wrong with me? 

Something was CLEARLY out of sync in my world… 

And whilst the phenomenon doesn’t occur terribly often, my sixth sense was telling me that I was about to experience what I have come to refer to, as a “Little Did She Know Day”.

My gorgeous Actress was present, she was feeling well-rested, and with the entire Cast on stage on time, I would have no significant worries or pressure for the day!

So what was up with the mental and spazzoidical (my word) drama?

Finishing our own private Table Reading of the script, I collected my banged-up, bruised and beaten can of Diet Coke to take to the recycling bin, only to find myself absolutely paralyzed in a Director’s chair as a man with a silver pony tail made his way through the crowd to hug and personally greet everyone that he knew; his familiar voice resonating somewhere back in the heart of my youth.

Whilst I couldn’t see his face buried in the arms of all the people clutching him, I caught a glimpse of a nose here, part of a chin there, and searching my personal mental archives to retrieve my databanks of adolescent sit-com-watching history, a face was beginning to take shape…

“Hi!  What are you doing here?!” my gorgeous Actress (who just so happens to originate from very near The Big Apple) clasped her arms around the visitor blocking his visage from my view once more.

“We’re shooting a show on location outside that I’m directing” he told her.  “I didn’t want to disrupt your rehearsal time, but I absolutely had to stop by and say hello to you my dear friend.”

“Everyone, this is Henry!” she informed the crowd of us for anyone who’d never had the pleasure of meeting the Hollywood Icon known as “The Nicest Man in Show Business.” 

And as my Actress moved to the side, I found myself in a full-blown time machine.

I was maybe 12 years old?  I could see the panels on the walls in our refurbished basement in Indiana, the pool table on the other side of the room that my frantic parents protectively stuffed me and my sister under during tornado warnings, the wooden staircase separating the two, and despite the L-shaped sectional couch behind me, I found myself camped out cross-legged on the carpet in front of our television completely engaged in one of my favorite sit-coms.

Smash cut to present time and my adolescent pea-brain still trying to make sense of the adult/professional situation unfolding before my very eyes…

OMG!!! 

“The Fonz” aka Actor/Director Henry Winkler was in my living room!  He was in our living room television set!  Well, that is, not actually on our TV set back in Indiana, but he was ON our set that’s the “living room set”!  On stage!  In person!  In our living room television set!  Right in front of me!  (I know, I know; I’m still mentally Ethel-Mertzing him, but I can’t HELP it!!!) 

“Again, my apologies for disrupting your rehearsal!”  Mr. Winkler added politely as the Cast swarmed him to take group photos for their Twitter thingies. 

And smiling warmly for each and every picture, he walked off the stage graciously, taking a moment to acknowledge our working CREW with a shrug and a humble “Can I get you guys anything?!”

*insert teenager girly sigh and sudden desire to own a poodle skirt*

Ahh…  The Magic of Hollywood…!

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“Unless I text you otherwise, she’ll be here at 9:45am for the morning run-thru.” my AD smiled assuredly as he signed me out for the day. 

And walking to the parking structure, I almost made it all the way to my car before the text came in!  (Ooh, so close!)

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Relatively confident in representing the nuts and bolts of the episode in lieu of our gorgeous Actress to all of our technical departments the next morning, I felt as though I had effectively portrayed the scenes with all due respect; as well as picking up and delivering the cues to all of my fellow Actors.  And I must say that (despite the massive re-writes) meandering the length of the stage for our final scene, I was feeling…, well…, kinda proud of myself! 

Was it the presence of a Hollywood Icon that had graced our stage that assisted in my performance?

Were we somehow blessed by the cosmic humbleness that randomly attaches itself to a decent and good-spirited human being?

Oh, what did The Universe wish to show me?!

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For those of you who remember old episodes of Happy Days, “Fonzie” was absolutely terrified by one thing and one thing only: liver.

And showing our final scene, I discovered my own Fonzie-esque "kryptonite":

“I brought your father some beef tongue” our Guest Star paraphrased her script, pawing at a slice of an apparent ethnic delicacy with acrylic fingernails and indulging in some tongue-on-tongue action; the equivalent sound of a fruit roll-up flapping juicily in her mouth.

And just like that, I was DONE!!!

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Looking forward to hiatus for a few more days; ever so thankful to have already booked a pilot at Warner Bros., (ooh, I can pillage the gift shop!) and praying that I NEVER EVER have to see or SMELL beef tongue again (Oof, I’m still choking back the vomit!!!),

~Poodle-skirt-searching P  :)