Woohoo! The costumes had come in. It was May 1993 and the Watauga High Pioneers were rehearsing the spring musical, none other than Oklahoma!. I was Ado Annie.
I walked into the theater and joined Charlie, who played the role of Will, in digging through the freshly opened boxes. I was secretly in love with Charlie, of course, but who wasn’t? He was hot and had long hippie hair and skied and smoked a lot of weed and ran with a crowd of seven other hot, pot-smoking skiers. They called themselves The Rock Boys (because the were from Blowing Rock, but I liked to think it was cause they ROCKED). Most importantly, he laughed at my jokes, and he called me Cookie. Isn’t that sweet? Sigh…Anywho.
Charlie pulled a shirt, a vest, chaps, even a gun holster, out of the boys’ costume box. “There’s nothing in ours but skirts,” I whined. No shirts, no bloomers, no cowboy boots. Screw it, I decided, I’d just wear the skirt with my T-shirt and Birkenstocks.
The scene began. It was the one where the character with the annoying laugh—I forget her name, but a girl named Susan played the part—starts flirting with Will, and Ado Annie has to choke a bitch. This was our best rehearsal yet! Everything was going swimmingly. I slapped her. She kicked me. I yanked her hair. Everyone who was watching the scene was DYING.
At that moment, a thought wormed its way into my brain. I had forgotten when I put on my costume that, at the end of the scene, Susan would throw my skirt over my head from the back and dart off-stage. It would be a really funny moment, see, while I wrestled with my skirt, my bloomers out there for the whole audience to see.
Except this was rehearsal.
And I wasn’t wearing any bloomers.
All I had on under my skirt was my underpants. And not cute ones. No, I had on period panties—you know what I’m talking about: gray granny panties with a stretched-out waistband.
It was too late. By the time my mouth had caught up with my brain, Susan already had ahold of my skirt. She pitched it up in the air and took off. I stood there for a moment, while my butt got cold and a gasp erupted from the cast and crew. A white-hot heat bolted up my neck into my face. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. Everyone in the theater, except for moi of course, fell into giggles. Finally, I came out of my stupor and sprinted into the wings. Seeing the curtain bunched up back there, I stepped over and carefully wrapped myself up, like a burrito.
The curtains parted slightly. Charlie looked at me, and for one moment, I imagined he hadn’t seen, or maybe he had seen but he had been bewitched by my ass and would take me away. We would smoke weed and listen to the Dead, and he’d teach me how to ski, and then we’d HAVE SEX.
Instead he said, “No bloomers, Cookie?” and sauntered away.