Twins

This was the very first time I was on a sitcom where it actually shot on the stage…in front of *gulp* a live audience. Every other time I’d worked a sitcom (Macolm in the Middle, Frasier, Old Christine), I was on location.

Anyhow, because the drive wasn’t long, I took my Viper–top down, enjoying the SoCal November sun. Once through the CBS gate, I was instructed to park in the structure, 4th floor or above. Okay, sounded easy.

But I drove around the upper floors three times. There was only one space–it could barely fit a Mini let alone my big fat Viper–so I went back down to the guard shack and asked what I should do. He told me to park anywhere on the third floor. “Anywhere?” I really needed clarification before I parked. It’d suck to come out and find that my car had been towed. He replied, “Yeah, anywhere on the north side. Not the south side where Passions is.”

Okay, that was good enough for me, so I found a nice wide spot on the third floor and put my car in it. I still felt guilty for taking the guy’s spot–his name was Bill something-or-other and he was working on Twins, too–and I worried I’d see the guy when I got to the stage. But then as I got my junk from the trunk and headed down, I realized that today of all days was the best to be in the Viper. I mean, depending on what Bill drove, how pissed off would he really be to find a Viper in his parking space?

I walked to the stage and set my crap down in the audience bleachers, still not knowing there’d be an audience later that night. I waited around to be taken to wardrobe where I somehow ended up first in line.

The casting director booked me as a coffee house waitress and said for me to look ‘geeky’. Well, I didn’t know exactly what that meant so among others, I brought my geese-with-stripes shirt. Of course wardrobe didn’t like most of what I’d brought nor what I’d worn, so they just put me in my most boring–blue sweater and jeans. No biggie. I was comfy and happy although devoid of geese. (I really wanna wear that thing on a set someday!!!!)

I waited what felt like an eternity as all the other scenes were rehearsed. I was only in one–the last one, of course. The crew whipped through everything with amazing speed, although it still felt slow. The best part was getting to watch everything. That was nice. I enjoyed having something interesting to look at while bored out of my mind.

Then, it was finally time to do my scene. The prop guy set me up with a tray, a pen and a order pad. Cool. I’d never been a waitress before. This could be fun, could be interesting…

The AD told me where I was allowed to work and all was well. When the scene started, I sprung into action, taking orders for four people, dashing back behind the bar, dashing behind the set, coming back, taking a couple more orders, then the gag happened and I gasped before following the character off the set.

Not bad. I felt okay about my performance, especially since I was given zero instruction. That either meant I was doing okay or nobody saw me. Either way, I was fine with that.

But then the prop guy came over to me and said, “I have a job for you.”

I was terrified. “What kind of job?”

He grabbed my tray and flipped it over. “Peel off the price tags. I guess the tray’s new.”

We shared a chuckle and I got to work.

The price tags came off easily, but the big, huge, white bar code sticker proved a wicked nemesis as I was running out of time before the next take. In fact the damn thing wouldn’t come off at all!

So, during the next take, I was focused on my “acting” as well as hiding the bar code with either my hand or by keeping the back of the tray away from the camera. Afterward, I was still pleased with my performance and no one complained. I assumed I was okay.

Then dinner happened and I chowed one table away from Mark Linn-Baker. (When I’d first seen him earlier, I had total deja vu and time-warped back to watching him on Perfect Strangers. And I always think it kicks ass to see the principle actors going through the same chow line as the rest of us.)

After what felt like another eternity, my scene was finally called and we were herded onto the soundstage. That was when it really hit me that I was about to perform in front a real live audience. I examined that moment, surprised that I wasn’t at all nervous.

I mean, my background is in live theatre, so this shouldn’t be any different…BUT…I’d only acted in one play, all million others, I’d done sound, lighting, set, followspot, etc. for. No one saw my face except for one time when I was an on-stage followspot operator in costume, but I didn’t have to act. Yeah, I majored in Theatre (Design and Technology) and had to take a ton of acting classes, but still, the last time I’d been on a stage in front of an audience greater than a class of about twenty-five was almost ten years ago. So, why wasn’t I nervous?

Because I was just background. Who cares about background? Besides, I can act. I learned that from my classes. And I knew I’d do a better job if I really thought that no one was looking.

So I wasn’t nervous. A little excited, perhaps, because of the new thrill of doing my first gig with an audience, but that was about it.

Then, the director started moving people into the path I’d used during rehearsal. Oh dear.

Then, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do everything I’d done in the rehearsal.

Then, there was no time to worry because the scene started and I had to perform.

Somehow I made my way through to the people whose orders I took.

Then, I dunno what happened. I started sucking. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to go to the bar or backstage. Good grief! This was a terrible time to be crappy! And I was terrified that I’d accidentally show the damn bar code to one of the FOUR cameras!

I muddled through the first take, horrified at how terrible my performance was.

I figured someone was going to come up to me and confirm that, whether it was the prop guy warning me about the bar code or the AD giving me notes about where not to go or what not to do.

But none of that happened and we did another take.

…Which I flubbed, too!!!!! Oh my goodness, gracious, golly, why the hell was I sucking so hard tonight?

I never did figure out what had gone wrong in my head, although I did notice that when I’d screwed up during the takes, I’d at least been consistent! Perhaps that’s why I didn’t get in trouble.

Anyhow, after a pick-up and an insert that didn’t really involve us extras, we were released.

The Viper was still where I’d parked it. No threatening notes were on the windshield, so I assumed everything was okay. Maybe the guy didn’t come in to work. Whatever. I went home tired, but happy.

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