Lights, Camera, Action!

It was 1:23 a.m. Saturday morning and I was just getting home.

I walked into the door and kicked off the black loafers that had replaced the stilleto sandals I'd started the evening in. My bag got dropped somewhere between the front door and the main hallway as I struggled to stay upright. I peeled off my cocktail dress and fell onto the mattress in my living room.

My feet were sore, my back ached and my head twirled in a buzzed haze as I pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to find some peace. It had been a helluva night and if I had the chance, I'd do it all over again.

Five hours ago, I arrived at the Venus De Milo, a cheesy restaurant in Swansea, Mass., to prepare for my debut in the Providence Newspaper Guild Follies. I'd spent the last two months, and the last two full days practicing my lines, trying out costumes and overcoming my pre-performance jitters. As I walked through the door, I couldn't believe my eyes: The hall was full of about 1,500 politicians, government officials and my own coworkers and bosses. The cast told me to expect this, but you can't really imagine that many people until they're elbowing you trying to get to the bar.

I put my coat, tote bag and thermos of tea backstage and went out into the crowd to find my co-stars. The Follies, essentially, is like Saturday Night Live, set to music. Each year, members of the Providence Newspaper Guild and the community get together to poke fun at the major headlines, politicos and other weird things that have happened in news the past year. I decided to join the cast to get to know my coworkers a little better and to get the weekends off: practices were on Saturday. I can't say my reasonings were totally admirable, but it got me to join, so I can't complain.

The cast milled around the lobby as everyone ate dinner. 9:10 p.m., it was time to start. We grabbed hands and marched through the banquet hall singing "God Bless America" as we made our way backstage for some quick changes. Then, it was showtime.


I was in a total of six scenes. After the opener, set to the tune of "all that jazz," I performed in a number of skits and songs throughout the night. In one, I was one of four hospital patients exaulting the state legislature of legalizing medical marijuana. In another, I was a "commatta," or an Italian mistress for all you non-Soprano's fan's out there. I also sang lead in two numbers. One, set to the tune of "Rescue Me" by Fontella Bass, had me playing the part of a tired daycare worker who wanted to unionize. Here are some of the lyrics:

Rescue Me, It's time to unionize
Rescue Me, don't hang me out to dry
Cause I'm lonely and I'm poor
You're my cure
Oh, I am sure,
Come on and rescue me

Come on union, and rescue me
Come on union, increase my fee
Cause I need you by my side
Can't you see that I'm lonely


In the other, set to the tune of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," I played Ruth Simmons, the president of Brown University, as she defended the "Sex, Power, God" party that garnered national headlines when a producer from Bill O'Reilly's show videotaped segments to air on the show. When I unzipped my doctoral graduation robe to reveal a t-shirt sheath with a painted on bra and panty set, the crowd went wild. Here's the refrain from the Brown song I sang:

Ain't no party wild enough
ain't no co-ed drunk enough
ain't no student high enough to flunk out of this Ivy League
Ain't no costume low enough
ain't no cocktail strong enough
ain't no party wild enough to sully our proud reputation

After we finished the show, I changed back into my cocktail dress and mingled with my co-workers and who's who in Rhode Island politics. As I walked around, people kept stopping me, saying how well I'd done and how beautiful my voice was. One guy came up to me as a co-worker and I made our ways to the bar and goes something like: "I want you to know that when I was growing up, I used to sneak out of Mass and go down the street to the church that sang gospel. There were two women there, Eunetta Flowers and Doretha Jackson and they had these voices that just made you feel every word they sang. I want you to know that tonight, your performance brought me back to that church. Thank you." I was blown away. I thanked him and we chatted for a minute before I headed to the bar for an Amarretto Sour. With my co-worker, I jokingly reasoned that people kept picking me out because I was the only black girl in the show and one of only a handful in the room, but regardless, it still made me feel good.

I ate along with the rest of the cast, joking and laughing, still high off of our performance. Deemed one of the "Rookies of the Year" by the Follies cast, I promised to be a part of the cast next year. Around 1 a.m., everything started to catch up with me. I packed my bag, switched out of my stillettos and into some sensible shoes and hopped on the expressway home.

As I lay on the mattress, my mind raced to the performance I'd given hours ago. I replayed the gasps and laughs I'd garnered during my performance. I re-listened to the praise and congratulatory words I'd heard from absolute strangers, my bosses and co-workers after the show. A smile crept across my face as I thought about what I'd just been a part of.

I could still hear the applause echoing in my ears as I drifted off to sleep.

Photo captions, (from top to bottom): me, at the Venus, striking a pose; one of the cast boards that was set up in the lobby - I'm the black girl at the bottom left; me on stage as a disgruntled babysitter; Me, as Ruth Simmons, practicing with the girls during dress rehersal; Thom, me and Don right before the show.