My Big Break

I was recently asked to be in a play. It’s been 6 years since I’ve been on a stage for anything besides an LNP gig, unless you count a speaking engagment for Martin Luther King Day at a high school in rural Arizona and a couple of anxiety dreams. So this was kind of a big deal.

And it was flattering. The play was a 10 minute one act in the Boston Theater Marathon, a fundraising event at which you can watch as many of the 50 plays as you like, with all ticket sales going to charity. I got the offer through my girlfriend, who is among other things, a fantastic actress. Her employer, who is particularly well placed in the Boston theater community, said that she had a part that was just perfect for me.

Perfect? For me? Why, then it must be a very good role.

Do you think that turned out to be true? Why don’t you read the stage directions that describe my character’s entrance and then decide:

ART enters. He is naked except for a thong and knee-high leather boots. He has an anarcho-punk look. Printed on his chest, in black marker and in big letters, is the word “ART”. He turns round and his back becomes visible to the audience. On it, in black marker, is written the word “FUCKS.”

Yes, it was nice to take a break from the world of sketch comedy and sink my teeth into some real acting. I relished the opportunity to rub elbows with the theater community proper. You could say that we do theater, or you could say that we do something in theaters.

When other actors would ask me what company I was with, I had some explaining to do. Unlike them, I didn’t work with one of the seemingly infinite amount of theater ensembles from Western Massachusetts with one word names. Nor did I support my theater addiction with a desk job in one of those mysterious fields like “development” or “consulting” that must absorb all those people who majored in communications.

When I explained that I was in a comedy group, I heard a range of bewildered responses as people tried to condescend to something they didn’t quite understand. It was like a shark trying to insult a school teacher.

In the end, I found myself grateful for getting the chance to perform for a couple hundred people in one of Boston’s most prestigious theaters, and for a good cause. I also found myself scraping the word “FUCKS” off my back with cold cream.