Now, the comedy comes into play when you realize that there is no parking at the venue. There was parking in the neighborhood, about 4-6 blocks from the theatre, so I would spend each night walking to and from my car, seemingly naked, to catcalls such as “where’s the party”, “is the circus in town?” and “is that girl neked?” I started carrying postcards for the show and just handing them out. I mean, what better advertising?
The greater comedy is that on my way to the final performance, I was rear-ended. I know, it doesn’t sound that funny. But it was a low speed accident. However, I still had to get out and inspect my car…in my costume. I just kept praying, “please let there be no damage”, not just because of the money and inconvenience, but more because I just didn’t want to stand there and wait for a police officer. Only me. When did my life become a parody of my life?