PERSONAL The Wardrobe Malfunction
Friday night was closing night of SGAG, my latest level 5 writing show. As the show started--it started with just me on stage as "Fats" (a lounge singer) warming up the crowd with bad stand-up and songs I couldn't finish--I figured it was going to be a good show. The crowd seemed into it and seemed to be actually liking me (which wasn't supposed to happen in that scene but, hey, I'll take it). The song went well and the first scene--a courtroom/courting scene--went swimmingly. Then the second scene came. In that scene, I have a lot of running around, jumping, and general joyful exuberant merriment. The funny thing about doing all of that in dress clothing is that dress clothing is not as flexible as regular clothing. And a non-flexible piece of clothing turns into a ripped piece of clothing. Can you see where this is going? During that scene, while jumping onto the ground and sliding around, my pants ripped. They ripped from knee to crotch. I knew it right when it happened... and my mind raced through possibilities. I didn't have an extra pair of pants (a mistake I'll never make again)... I didn't have tape or safety pins with me... there was nothing I could do but keep going.
NOW... here's the thing about how to successfully negotiate an embarrassing situation. Everyone saw it happen, everyone knew what happened, and everyone was waiting for me to acknowledge it happening. I feel like, in situations like this, you HAVE to acknowledge something that everyone already sees and knows (D McNabb, take note). I also knew that, if I acknowledged it and kept going like a professional, that garners respect and (hopefully) everyone forgets what happened and moves on. That's what the audience needs... closure. So I figured I needed to acknowledge it, give them closure, and move on to the rest of the show. At the end of that scene, I'm supposed to say "Can I stay here and chase rabbits?" but, instead, I said "Can I stay here? I've got some sewing to do." The audience laughed BIG TIME! I had given them their closure... and I figured it was time to move on. But I had bigger problems. How was I going to fix the pants to keep going?
When I went off-stage after that, I was prepared to run as fast as I could backstage to try to find something to fix my pants. Perhaps to the office to see if they had safety pins or tape? It didn't matter, I had to do something! Well, when I went off-stage, one of the writers was waiting for me with some big pieces of black duct tape. She helped me tape up my leg and I went back out there. I knew the audience would laugh at first when they saw my taped up leg... and they did. But I went ahead and kept going as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the show continued as if nothing had happened (only in one other scene did anyone say "nice pants" and the like). At the end of the show, I came out as "Fats" again... this time saying, "Well it's been quiet a ride. We've all learned that wardrobe malfunctions are real." That got a big laugh, too.
As the show ended, and the writers came out for the bow, all of the writers had put large pieces of black duct tape on their pants. I laughed hard and felt so amazingly supported... it was an incredible feeling. After the show, I thanked each of the writers for their support... and they, in turn, wanted to tell me how worried they were when it happened, how scared they were about the rest of the show, how well they feel I handled it, and so on. I think that, if this had happened to me on stage five years ago, I would have freaked out and frozen... not knowing what to do. But, for some reason, I'm comfortable enough with myself and lack of pants to know that I had bigger problems (like making sure these writers get the most out of their $2,000). I hope that the writers feel like they got the best out of this show... and I need new pants.