This is another of those crazy memories that just pop unbidden into my brain.
At Temple University, the theatre majors were a pretty closely knit group. Oh, of course there was gossip and back-biting (I quote myself: “My mother always said, if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all, or go into theatre”), but we were a tight bloc. We filled a lecture hall with all of us (undergrads and grads) every Friday, and assembled faithfully for opening night parties in one of the large campus rehearsal rooms.
This was a cool aspect of Temple: department sanctioned opening night parties with a DJ, food (I guess?), and kegs of beer.
So the sudden memory: It was the opening night party for, I think, Knight of the Burning Pestle, a free-wheeling musical adaptation of an Elizabethan comedy. I had already drunk enough beer that allowed me to be courageous and to flirt with one of the MFA grad actors (married to another one but there were rumors about it not going well), telling her I was off to grad school next year, mentioning that I was older than the average senior, and…well, nothing came of it.
I eventually left the party about 4:30am and walked back to my dorm (conveniently next door to the theatre). I went to bed but, as a good and faithful student, I got up in a few hours to go to Shakespeare class. I was still basically drunk, but I managed to sit through class anyway.
Side note on that course that still amuses me to this day: the class met Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but Mondays and Fridays were 9 to 10 and Wednesdays were 8 to 10. Some of the students never got that memo, and would come to class at 8:55 on Wednesdays and wonder why the professor had started early and was already in the middle of it.
After class, I may have gone back to bed to sleep it off.
And in my career in theatre, I always missed the excitement of opening night and the shared joy of everyone pulling in the same direction to make the show something to celebrate at an amazing party.
MUSOFYR 