It escaped local media attention that I was trapped for two hours on a recent Tuesday night in a choir room with 30 middle school boys.
Imagine sharing a cage full of rabid squirrels with opposable thumbs—it was worse. Partially my fault for giving in to misguided guilt, I volunteered to chaperone during play rehearsals. On my tour of duty, I was asked to contain the hyperactive thespians and to basically keep boys from “being boys”—as if evolutionary psychology was based on a hunch. I removed contraband electronics, non-sanctioned snacks, a pencil-shiv, and even disarmed a method actor brandishing a repurposed tissue box-turned-machete. During the choir room stand-off, I could not begin to fathom how these maniacs were going to pull off the musical production of Alice in Wonderland Jr.
Well, miracles do happen. On opening night, I sat up front and anxiously prayed for each mini-actor to become reincarnated as Liza Minnelli or Joel Grey.