Saturdays late night show started at 2 am. We never knew what was going to happen since the
stage manager left the building after the midnight performance.
The boy dancers plotted and planned to do something to make everyone laugh. We were into our second year of the show. Any deviation from our routines to get a laugh without getting fired seemed worth the risk.
The male dancers were Roman Guards wearing a white tunic that hung above the knee with ornate gold braided tassels across the shoulders. Ray and I were partners, center stage with two other couples behind us.
The boys each lifted their partner overhead, while turning in a circle, causing the skirt of the tunic to flare out, showing the gold brief undergarment. Mischievous Ray, however, wore boxer shorts, much to everyone’s surprise.
The other girls and I were overhead, so we had no idea why the audience was howling with laughter. Ray was laughing so hard that he brought me down earlier than expected.
My foot was still pointed when I hit the floor, landing on my big toe. It was a funny bit.
Afterward, however, my big toe was so swollen, I had to sit out the remainder of the show, since my foot would not fit in a shoe.
One of the funniest reactions was when eight male dancers entered the stage, each wearing an enhanced, overly endowed bikini. Everyone on stage bent over laughing, and I for one had tears rolling down my face.
The audience laughed so loud it even woke those who had dozed off. Not surprisingly, a few had one elbow on the table with their hand supporting their head slightly tilted, with one eye open and the other closed.
Monday mornings, several dancers were called to the office each week, and with a “ yes sir, guilty, sorry” left with a smile on their face, once outside the door, and all was forgiven.
Everyone was on their best behavior for at least two weeks before we resumed our tradition. We all need a little laughter in our lives.
