Wednesday, March 28, 2007

?Little miracles? in Sun Valley


By LAURELYN WATSON

I spent President's Day weekend in gorgeous Sun Valley, Idaho. At 6,000 feet, it is breathtaking (literally). This world-famous ski resort town is a playground to the stars: Bruce Willis, Jamie Lee Curtis, Arnold, Tom Hanks, and many others own homes there. I thought it strange that our little quintet from New York, the Gilbert & Sullivan Players, ended up there for a gig. Al Bergeret, Keith Jurosko, Michael Scott Harris, Angela Smith, Andi Stryker-Rodda and I would perform for fancy people.

The adventure began thus: After traveling all day on Friday to get to Boise, we arrived and discovered all 11 pieces of our luggage lost. Our suitcases, costumes, props, and music scores could not be traced. We piled into a mini-van (sans luggage) and drove to Sun Valley where we were expected to perform that night at a country club. Most of us were dressed casually for travel; I had on a sweat suit from The Gap that looked like I had a load in my pants. After arriving and meeting our host families, we were able to buy a few necessities at the only drug store in town, and then had about 20 minutes to prepare for our performance. My cast-mate, Angie, and I were exhausted and stunned, but we put on make-up, sprayed perfume on each other, and then rushed to the country club to sing for the rich and well-dressed. Thanks to my book of G&S favorites, I'd packed in my carry-on (and some adrenaline), we were able to make it through a 40-minute excerpt performance. The fancy people gave us a standing ovation and a lot of wine.

The next day, we woke up in our luxurious, kick-ass log cabin to spectacular views of a rolling stream and snow-covered mountains. We'd hardly finished our breakfast when we got the news that our bags were still lost. So, Saturday turned into a mad rush to find concert wear and, to our surprise (not really), makeshift costumes and props for that evening's show. Angie and I found dresses at the local thrift shop, the Gold Mine. Remember that stretchy velvet-like fabric so popular in the 1990s? Mine was a deep purple, long-sleeved tube dress with a hemline somewhere between my knees and my name and address. Angie's was a forest green velvet tent (we looked hot). When the locals discovered we had lost our bags, they eagerly helped us find shoes and gave us a discount at checkout.

Meanwhile, our director, Al, was furiously making props—fans and a large axe—and enlisted his hosts to track down kimonos and wigs. Our wigs were purchased at a toy store and were the consistency of Barbie's hair. Angie and I tried to style the wigs into Geisha-like buns, but it was almost impossible. There was nothing to do but roar with laughter. We slapped the wigs on our heads and went to the church for the show. We ended up with some beautiful kimonos and bathrobes donated by people who had traveled to Japan or Hawaii. However, what they presented for Keith's Mikado Ensemble was like nothing I'd ever seen: Liberace had raided the closet of one of the Golden Girls. I'm waiting for Keith's memoirs, "The Dark Side of Light Opera."

It is true that we didn't look our best or have props that weren't sticky. Never mind that we were all dehydrated, gasping for breath in the high altitude, and constantly fighting back laughter over each other's bad wigs and comments such as, "I'm in Hooterville" or "I'm a whore! I'll do anything for a dollar." We put on a show and entertained the crowd with our voices and Gilbert & Sullivan's material. I don't recall such enthusiastic response from a crowd during a quintet performance, ever. In their minds, perhaps, we were like underdogs or somehow handicapped with the disadvantage of lost luggage. Because we could sing, act, dance, play the piano, be funny or sentimental, and remember all the words, we were little miracles. I won't be so quick to take my talent or the talent of my peers for granted, dear hearts. A little can take you a long way, all the way to Sun Valley, Idaho.




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