Sorry I Puked on Opening Night, Mr. Shawn

The play was engrossing. But as the actor began reaching his emotional peak, I started feeling rumblings in my belly.

I'd never seen a famous person up close in my life, and I had tickets to the opening night at the "Woolly Mammoth":http://www.woollymammoth.net/ of _The Fever,_ a play written by Wally Shawn. I know. "Inconceivable!":http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-b7RmmMJeo

The night of the play, I went out for a beer and a meal, and cut down to the theater. It's a small place where everyone is seated close together, and I was so excited to see Mr. Shawn in the audience. My first encounter with the famous!

_The Fever_ is a one-man play—the protagonist is visiting another country and gets a fever. He spends most of his time ranting in front of a toilet. I had a really good seat in the middle of the theater. The play was engrossing. But as the actor began reaching his emotional peak, I started feeling rumblings in my belly. Growing nausea. No big deal. Possibly the exotic Belgian beer or maybe some sympathetic symptoms? Who cares. The play was almost over.

But no, the actor kept going on and on, and I could no longer focus on the play. I was nervously scoping the exits. (Nothing close.) Trying to calculate how much of a distraction it would be if I loped to the back of the theater (_way_ distracting). So I made the decision to stick it out.

Eventually, through the sweating and nervousness, my head started to swim. And then I puked into my program. Loudly.

Seconds later, the lights came up. If it had been three minutes earlier, I would have horked properly in the bathroom. Three minutes later, and most people would have forgotten exactly which seat produced the sound of vomitus. As it was, I could tell from all of the stares that I was a minor celebrity. And seconds later, I was out on the street. Sorry, Wally Shawn.

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