Whoops

Last night was great. Staged reading of my ten-minute play, It Glows, the touching saga of two hapless slackers and the mysterious box that landed in front of their garage door.

This was part of a staged reading series which involved a bunch of other plays, and there were six actors who played all the parts in the evening. All I had to do afterward was thank the actors who were in mine.

One of the actors was tall and had facial hair. Easy. I spotted him as soon as I got to the front of the theater space. We had a great mutual admiration session, and then I went looking for other people to thank.

The other actor approached me. Unfortunately, I did not know who he was. Despite that I had just watched him play three parts, I did not know what his face looked like. Whoops.

We talked for a while, and I think I masked my confusion pretty well. Only later, when it was obvious to me who he was -- this was a separate conversation, in another part of the room -- did I casually play it off as, "Hey, man, we should stay in touch. You were great." Had I been in his shoes, this would have at least seemed odd.

It's times like that when I briefly think about disclosing -- which, by the way, I do when I can in casual situations, but hadn't had the chance to do here -- but I just didn't have it in me last night. I was riding the high of having just kept an audience in hysterics for eleven minutes. I didn't really want to pull out the blind card.

Like I said, it was a great night, and even that annoying incident didn't change that. I went out for drinks with the director and a few people from the cast, and we had interesting talks about the economy and the bubbles people trap themselves in. My vision didn't come up once. I even managed to guess what beer they had on the menu. People kept giving me compliments on my writing all night.

Every now and then, I get a break from being "that guy," and it's good to know that it's out there.