It was December 2001 around one forty five in the afternoon.
It was a Friday.
We were just over half way through the performance of Pinocchio.
It was the afternoon.
It was the end of the week.
It was close to Christmas.
The three hundred and fifty fourth fifth and sixth graders?
They were fed candy for lunch, fed up from the week and ready to fly away on Friday.
Difficult?
Naw.
More excitable - like surfing a big wave of anxious anticipation and sugar high while basking in the buzz of being alive.
It was a good room. The show was flying along just beautifully. We had just been spit out of the belly of the whale? My character? Felix - he was some add on mute cat. I mostly mugged and posed and played with the audience. Essentially I was one gigantic attention stealing attraction machine.
It was fun.
So - back to the show.
We had been spit out of the belly of the whale. It was me, Pinocchio, Gepetto and the Cricket. We would be spit out, things would happen with the scenery and the lights. We’d wake u…
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