Tuesday, April 6, 2010


I just had to post this photo because I couldn't believe it when it happened. This past Saturday night I was at a party, but not just any party. An amazing, beautiful, gorgeous closing party for the indescribable experience that was Flight 18. The party took place at a 4 story brownstone home in midtown that literally took my breath away. We were greeted as we arrived by a group of people waving sparklers to let us know we'd found the party. It was just out of this world to stroll down the street at 1 am after our last show and see a crew of our friends and cast members with a dozen bright twinkling sparklers, just for us.

Amazing, right? 

Once inside, there was a decadent and wonderful spread of all types of delicious home made food for us to enjoy. I was so happy, because nothing makes my life more joyous than eating scrumptious home-made food cooked with love and care, for me. 

I made a plate, exhausted from the double header of shows that night, a back to back 7:30 and a 9:30 which were, in my opinion, possibly the absolutely worst followed by the absolute best of the whole series of shows, and took said plate outside to the absolutely breath taking back yard patio, full of the softest chairs and couches, lit by dozens of large candle lantern lights everywhere. 

A few minutes later, a regular patron of the show (but not a cast member) came stumbling over to me, clearly a bit out of it (or maybe that is just her personality, I've never been able to figure it out) and was playfully waving a sparkler around my face. I yelled at her, "Get that thing away from my hair! You'll catch me on fire!" She laughed and took a moment before understanding I meant business, then trotted off. 

A few seconds later, my seat began to get warm and I was so excited -- this terrific, fancy back yard patio was filled with furniture that had heated seats! I'd just been getting chilly. But I found out quickly, no -- it wasn't heated patio seats, it was my ass on fire. 

I jumped up and noticed I was smoking and flaming, so I started freaking out, yelling, "I'm on fire!" A few people came over, slapped my ass and put me out. Luckily, I still had all my hair in tact. Unfortunately, the ass of my beautiful hot pink sparkle dress had been ruined. But thankfully, I filmed a video wearing it, so the dress will live forever. 

Probably the saddest part was that it didn't even occur to the fire starter to offer to fix, repair or replace the dress, and I was too bummed to really make a big deal about it.

The moral of the story, not everyone is smart enough to operate a sparkler, and alcohol may increase sparkler's danger level, so beware! The alternative moral: If you light someone's dress on fire, offer to replace or fix it. It's the socially acceptable thing to do.

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