Loosen his pants immediately!!!

True.....seriously.

Back in the late 90's I was involved in a mystery dinner theatre production. I didn't have enough going on in my life. I suppose I thought that dressing up like a "crazy woman" in a play that performed at a steakhouse would give me some purpose. I think there was a free meal involved, which at the time was probably purpose enough.

This steakhouse was indeed interesting. I can only imagine that the decorators involved in creating the ambience in this restaurant said things like "Absolutely.....wicker butterflies are a MUST with that country heart- shaped shelf" and " No.....we need mooooooore fake burgundy and blue roses.....theres not enough on the walls and tablecloths...we must put them on the tables and restroom counters too!"

But, it had opened its doors to this theatre group who had been playing there for a couple of years. We were allowed to use the "banquet room" for our performances. I use the words "banquet room" loosely because although it was a large room for banquets, I can only imagine that anyone paying for a meal and entertainment in that room would have probably needed some depression counseling the next day. The flourescent lights used to light the room gave off such an unusual glow; it made everyone's face look ghastly gray. When the room filled with people, you could swear their faces were cut out of a newspaper picture. But again, this was a space in which to perform and as any actor knows, that can be in short supply.

And so many a Friday night was spent performing in the morgue- like atmosphere.

One night, however,was particularly memorable..... and disturbing.

Now, if you are a conneissueur of fine theatre like that staged at a steakhouse, you probably are familiar with the "mystery dinner theatre" format. If not, heres a basic outline:


First course is served (in this case, by the actors....how classssssyyy!)
1st act
Entree served once again by free labor.
2nd act
Dessert....yeah.you guessed it..it didn't walk out by itself.
3rd act

Okay, so thats how it played out most nights. Except this one.

We all were in charge of serving two tables. I happened to get the table that I believe was probably booked by the AARP. These jovial seniors were having a doozy of a time. Laughing at all the cheesy one- liners in the show, giggling at jokes said around the table by the various old timers, and guffawing hysterically at the clever things I would say as I lay down the various food items.

As this was a murder mystery, the "whodunnit" would be revealed in the 3rd act. Then everyone would laugh uncontrollably, and leave (some running, as the salad usually appeared to be "fizzing").

We were just finishing serving the desserts, when one of the old-timers (who been quite "randy" most of the night, the dickens!) got up from the table and faced me. He had an odd look on his face which I just figured was the half -cooked entree settling in. But he started to do something a little more strange. What looked like a classic "go-go shimmy" he was using to impress his wrinkled date, suddenly became more of a collapsing motion witnessed in teenage raves.

I grabbed his hands and being my "freakishly strong"self, was able to lower this larger man to the ground. He was grabbing his chest so I immediately thought "HEART ATTACK!".

I knew this was not the time for me to be a hero, especially in the bad wig I was wearing. I yelled "Its an emergency, call 911!!!!"

But....no.... one .....moved. The sound of clinging forks gooing through stale chocolate cake could be heard through the room. A couple of people glanced over and nudged their friends next to them....smiling.

What the? Why is...? OHMYGOD! They think its part of the show!

"This is NOT the show. This man is having a heart attack!!!!!! Do we have a nurse, or doctor?!!!!Someone please call 911!!"

Again, it seemed as though people were still surveying the situation....maybe making sure they weren't going to be involved in some bad...sick....totally inappropriate prank. And I believe some people still had some chocolate cake to gum down.

I couldn't wait anymore. Like a runner in a 50 yard dash, I raced through the annuls of my mind to remember anything about the CPR training I took in high school......15 years before.

But I could only remember one thing. Just one thing. One thing that haunts me to this day.

Now, I could have dreamt it once. I could have misinterpreted it when I heard it. BUT- I seemed to recall a step in the CPR process in which you were supposed to ...um...uh..... loosen the person's belt and pants. Yes- that's all I could recall in that terrifying moment being played out in a room with carpet smelling of garlic bread and spilled ranch dressing.

So that's what I did.

I opened the buckle on the man's belt, unfastened the button to his pants, and proceeded to unzip his pants. Thankfully, before I could inflict anymore humiliation on this poor man, someone in the audience yelled out that they were a doctor. Another a nurse. And I kid you not, another was a paramedic with his bag in the car.

I took a step back, only to notice that the entire cast that I thought may have been trying to get help, were standing there too. Staring at me. Watching me. Some looked puzzled. Some look horrified. I believe there was a digusted look too. And truly, I didn't know why.

I had really thought that I had done the "first stage" crucial to CPR. Saved a life. Made a name for myself. Showed the world that when trouble presented itself, I could take care of things.
But that wasn't going to be the case. Far from it. I would not being appearing in the Reader's Digest "Unsung Heroes" issue that year.

As the situation unfolded, I found out that the man was not having a heart attack, but a seizure. I then was informed he was on a "first date" with his lady friend. And last but not excruciatingly least, I did not have one ally in the school of the "loosened pants" technique.

The audience was ushered out a back door, stumbling over the the filthy crates that probably had held their rolls or meat, depending on the cook. I don't even think we revealed "whodunnit". But no one seemed to care. They had a better story now to share with their friends.

The show ran a couple of more times. And then like all good steakhouse performances, finally had to shut its doors to make way for another stale mystery show. But I will never forget that man. And hopefully he remembers me in a helping way.....unless he had a heart attack when he found out what I did.

I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!

True....

Last week I came home from a Thanksgiving dinner at my friend's house. I don't know what I had eaten/drank but I suddenly was in what I will call my "curious mode".

In the past, my curious mode has caused me to try things like flying by flapping my arms off some very high stairs, shave with a straight razor, and rub poison ivy on my arm to see if it would itch. To my defense, I was under the age of 10 when I tried those things.

But I'm 38 now, and the curiousity still continues.

My question that day to myself when I walked in my front door....."What would my dogs do if I had a heartattack here in the house?". Of course, I knew I could test this theory as my husband was visiting his relatives for the holiday.

So the actress that lives deep inside me came alive. I greeted my dogs and then grabbed my chest, fell into the chair and slid down to the floor.

And here is what happened next, or the best I could tell from my "just barely open but still want to see" eyes:

My border collie,Mike, walks over with his Kong and puts it next to my head.
He starts licking my face.
Good....he's trying to wake me....
He walks out to the kitchen to get a drink.
Sal, the smaller terrier dog walks over and sits next to my head.
I am perfectly still.
Mike is still drinking.
Mike comes out of the kitchen and grabs the Kong next to my head and prances around with it.
Sal goes to play with him.
Okay...its only been 3 minutes....I could still be alive.
Mike comes back over and sits next to my head.
Then he lays down next to me, parallel to my body.
He starts thumping his tail because my head is to the side, facing him, and he thinks I am looking at him.....I'm really trying hard to keep my eyes closed and still be able to see.
He takes a big sigh and lays there.
Sal lays down behind me.
Now, at this point I'm wondering what I am expecting these poor animals to do? Run next door and tell a neighbor? Dial 911? Begin CPR?.....
Mike sits up.
He stares at me.
He goes and lays down on the carpet about 5 feet away.
I wait. Silence. And wait. Nothing. I know at this point I would be cold and stiff. But I decide to turn on the drama.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, heelllpppppp me....." I groan.
Mike gets up and licks my hand.
Sal gets up and sits closer next to me.
"Helllllpppppppp meeeeeeee"....I groan.
Maybe I was wishing the dogs would figure a way to open the door......or bark out the window.... or form their skinny legs into a makeshift gurney and carry me to my bed.
"Okay, enough" I say and sit up.

They seemed happy I "came to".

I would wager I probably was the only person in the world at that moment testing the emergency capabilities of my dogs. At least the only one above the age of 10.

Boat in Distress!

TRUE STORY...seriously

Setting: 1983, Small lake in Missouri

Characters:
Me: 15 years old...totally self-conscious, prone to panic attacks and bouts of diarrhea from unnecessary public attention, mad because I'm out on a goofy boat instead of at home

My dad: Lacks the ability to switch into "public" and "private" mode at appropriate times, eccentric, not real agile.

The boat: A blow-up motorized boat similar to the kind Jacque Cousteau used in his shows. Yeah...that kind.

We arrive at the lake very early in the morning. The sun is just rising. We are waiting in a LONG line of boats to use the boat ramp. Except we're different.

Our boat is still IN our car, not on a trailer like everyone elses. And....it still needs to be blown up.

Finally its our turn to use the boat ramp to launch. Launch: v: to slide into the water. But what is this? We cannot lauch (slide into the water)....our boat is still in the bag! So while the 15 boats ahead of us took maybe 5 minutes each to dump and "launch"....the 15 boats behind us will not be so lucky ....no, this will not be THEIR day!

But....they will get to enjoy the humiliation and spectacle my father and I will entertain them with in the moments that follow.

"Grab the foot pump!"
"Huh? Foot pump? You don't have a battery one?"
"Hell no..foot pump works better....grab it!"

Gulp. 16....no 17 cars now behind us.

"Here it is...Here it is!", I yell running from the car.

"Great......unfold the boat and give me some space...this going to take a while."

Gulp....21 cars behind us. 5 cars have people opening their doors. My stomach makes a gurgling sound.

"So dad...this will take like....10 minutes maybe?"

"Hell no....more like 20-25...shhhhh!....I don't want to use my energy talking!" Stomp!pump!Stomp! Pump!........

I don't turn around again. I can hear car doors shutting. I hear the people talking. I try and will myself to turn into one of the pieces of grass next to the lake. Or a rock. Anything... but me...

My dads face is turning bright red...not from embarrassment...but from the exhertion.

"Want me to help?" Please say yes. Please. With the amount of adrenalin coercing through my body at this moment, I could have that sucker blown up in 10 seconds.

"Hell no...you're a girl!" he sputters. He's now violet and sweat is dripping off his forehead and onto his maroon windbreaker.

After what seemed like...oh I don't know.....4 1/2 hours........the boat was finally done. He just needs to move the car and oh.....would I sit with the boat?

"Uh sure". I sneak a peak at what looks like a line that could replace any traffic jam in L.A.

As he moves his car, the next car pulls down the ramp. The driver gives me a disgusted look as I swallow the bile rising in my throat. I give a sick smile and look to see if my dad is making his way back. He is. At...a...very.....leisurely....pace. Almighty Isis....change me to the form of a fish.

"Okay honey, you ready"

I say nothing as I climb to the front of the boat.....sorry...bounce to front of the boat. I crouch down like a lowrider into the rubber smelling vessel. My dad sits in back next to the small engine that the boat is equipped with.

"Here we go!" he shouts.

Thank God.

The engine hums its little Jacque Cousteau sound. I turn back and look at my dad. And catch a glimpse of the boat dock. Seems quite a few people have gone down to the dock to watch us depart. Some are waving. I wave back. Some are really waving. I wave again. And turn around.

"DADDDDDD!!!!!!!"
"What???"
"We are heading towards those stumps!" Sharp, pointy, boat- exploding stumps!
"Okay, okay...shhhhhh! I got it!"
"Dad, were almost on one!"
"I got it, I got it...the engine isn't letting me steer"!

He lets go of the engine lever and puts his hand out to brace the impact of the boat hitting the first stump. BUMP! The boat hits it. BUMP! The boats hits another. Its like a surreal game of bumper cars. Only I'm thinking, if the boat explodes will we be carried in the air, back and forth, like a cartoon all over the lake?

Dad reaches for another stump.
"Oh *&#@!"

What happens next is permanently burned into my brain. Please try and follow the next sequence of events. True events. Events that could only be seen in a "Three Stooges" show.

My dad had blurted this expletive because his glasses had fallen off his post-sweaty face and into the water. As he reaches to grab them....and yes...this did happen in slow motion......he falls into the water. I am now trying to see him AND keep the boat from now popping in what looks like a stump festival. I also catch a glimpse of the boat dock. Wha? It seems that in all the stump drama, I didn't realize we were so close to the dock still. In fact, I could easily count the now 50 people watching this slapstick comedy.

My dad emerges from the surface, sputtering and holding his glasses like he has just found a golden medallion.

"I got 'em!....I got the boat line too!"

Now what my father shouts out next caused every bit of my stomach acid to run through my bowels like a waterslide......

"BOAT IN DISTRESS! BOAT IN DISTRESS! BOAT IN DISTRESS!"

No one moves on the boat dock. And why, you ask?

We...are...in...3 feet ....of water!!!!!!!

I tell my dad to stand up as "kneel- walking" through water will only stretch out this torture.

He stands up and pulls me in the boat to the crowded lauching dock. I don't really remember what happened next. Its all a nauseating blur that my brain and bowels blocked out.

Blowing up the boat: 30 minutes
Boat ride: 5 minutes
Therapy: A lifetime