Apocalypse Pants

I lost my pants. And not in the fun, I-went-to-a-tent-full-of-foam-party-and-somehow-came-back-without-my-pants way. (That didn't happen to me, p.s. You know who you are, pantsless party queen, and you rock my socks.) No, I didn't even lose my own pants. I lost my stupid schoolboy pants. My green velvet, gold button knickers that I wear for all of 15 seconds at the beginning of Sleepy Hollow as one of the schoolboys in Ichabod Crane's classroom. I tore apart the Raleigh Music Hall looking for them. Nada. I upended both wardrobes. NOTHING. Naturally, I was on the verge of panic attack, not so much at the prospect of being a pantsless schoolboy, but more because I HATE having people disappointed in me/failing at anything (it's all rooted in my pathological need to have everyone like me.) So basically, that sucked. I was tres, tres upset. Thankfully, Other Actress, Brom, Frog and I were able to escape to the Fayetteville State University Dining Hall, and once I was somewhat sedated by fountain diet coke, I felt much better. Like the minute it hit my bloodstream. Two glasses in, I was all "Life's too short to worry about pants!" and ready to rock and roll. I managed to Macgyver a pair of knickers out of the emergency black pants and suspenders we have in the wardrobe in case Brom can't play the Tell-tale Heart narrator and Ichabod has to go on. Roll em' up, stick in two safety pins, and the children were saved from having to see my pale yellow and white polka dot lacy undies.

Little did I know my wardrobe malfunctions were only just beginning. The show was going along swimmingly, until we hit the last show, The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and somehow, the little thing that pulls up the zipper (you know, the zippy part) got off the track of my saloon girl dress and went flying out into the ether. MASSIVE PANIC ENSUED. There was no way to close my dress. I was half naked from the back. I missed the entire intro hopping around and panicking, then ribbed a velcro sash off of one of Other Actress's discarded costumes to at least hold part of it together, and skittled on to stage sideways like a crab keeping my back away from the audience. Lighting girl had managed to get a clip backstage to Ichabod, who's on my side of the proscenium before we come on as Saloon Girl and stranger. Ichabod clipped the top but it was still a bad situation; he left again and returned with a stapler but was unable to staple me into my costume as it comprises four fucking thousand layers of petticoats and faux corset material. HORRIBLE. In the midst of all this panicking I kept tripping and kicking things and prop brandy glasses were flying everywhere. I somehow made it through the end of the show sidehopping about like a frog/crab but it was...not pretty.

UGH. Children of Fayetteville, North Carolina, I officially apologize. That was a hot mess.