Lame Claims To Fame: Volume V

Flashback: January 2008...

So, for those of you who don't travel in these sorts of circles, the Tony award-winning Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will be closing on January 20th after a two-and-a-half year run. Upon hearing this news about three weeks ago — especially as an actress, a singer, and the bearer of an English degree, who lives for all things quirky — I was kicking myself for having missed the chance to see it.

Until I realized that I have a sister who does travel in these sorts of circles.

And who happened to be paying attention during this particular lament of mine, and who remembered it come Christmas present-buying time.

Which is how I came to be onstage with the cast, under the spotlights of the Circle in the Square Theater, beaming from ear to ear during yesterday evening's performance.

But let me back up a bit...

Technically, this is not the first time I've been in this sort of situation. For my 20th birthday, my mom took me to see Grease (with Rosie O'Donnell — remember that??), and when I made a request to the guy playing Vince Fontaine, who was spinning rock 'n' roll records before the show, I mentioned that it was my birthday, and he pulled me up onstage to dance (of course, I can't prove this because when Mom tried to take a picture of it, security confiscated her camera). And when I had front-row seats for the Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Show about 8 years ago, I managed to jump onstage to dance with one of the Phantoms during the Time Warp — but then again, we are talking about Rocky Horror.* As for the Bee, I've only heard rumors of audience participation, so I'm not getting my hopes up.

*Case in point: When I saw it again the next year (with Sebastian Bach — remember that??) and somehow ended up being the only one in the audience who yelled out (per "the script") "What's your favorite toothpaste?" right before the word "gleam" in "I Can Make You A Man," and then "Mine's Crest — I like the PUMP!" right after it, Terrance Mann as Dr. Frank broke character to look right at me and shout back "Get your own damn show!"

The lobby of the theater is decorated like the hallways of a real middle school. Handwritten signs and posters advertising bake sales and club meetings, "Read to Achieve!" and all those other cheesy inspirational slogans plastered everywhere, actual rows of lockers, and — my personal favorite — a "Putnam County Lady Pirhanas — 1998 Field Hockey Champions" banner hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall is a "Volunteer Speller Registration" table, so, curious, I get in line. The cute gay boy with the clipboard asks me my name, where I'm from, if I'm a good speller, if I ever do word puzzles, if I think I'd be nervous on a stage in front of about 500 people. I feel like answering every question with, "Are you kidding me?? Do you even know who you're talking to here??" He thanks me for volunteering and I am then told that only four people will be picked to be a part of the show. Four people out of about 500. Everyone waiting in the lobby has been on this line. There are still people waiting behind me. Registration eventually closes and they have to turn people away. When they come back out to announce the winners, I try to ready myself for the inevitable disappointment.

My name is the first one they call. >:)

My fellow spellers are another girl, about my age, maybe younger, with dark curly hair, who is actually taller than me (!); a precocious and adorably geek-chic, 10- or 11-year-old boy named Jack; and an older, somewhat Middle Eastern-looking man with a name I'm not even going to attempt to spell. Hopefully, it won't be the word I'm given during the competition. We are escorted to a small backstage office full of technical equipment for our "orientation." We are told where to come onstage, what to do once we're up there, how to adjust the microphone. We are told not to bring any electronic devices with us, to just react naturally and enjoy the show, and that the actors will help us. It is repeated several times, with great emphasis, that before we spell the word we're given, no matter how hard or easy a word it may be, we MUST ask two questions: "Can I have the definition, please?" and "Can you please use it in a sentence?" — and in that EXACT order. Then we are instructed very explicitly to NOT try to be funny: "Don't tell jokes or stay up there longer than you need to when you're done spelling. As funny as it may seem in your head, trust me, it's not going to be that funny. There are trained professionals up there for that; they don't need your help."

On my way back to my seat, I decide to try and play it like I wasn't picked after all, like I was just in the bathroom the whole time or something, so it will be a total surprise to my mom when they call me up, but she knows right away: "Well, first of all, you didn't come back in with the rest of them, and second, you're grinning like an idiot."

I am so excited I barely even hear the opening number; I'm focused solely on waiting for my cue. The "moderator" finally announces my name and the whole theater starts rustling and whispering and turning around to look as I jump out of my seat, plow past the rest of my row and skip down the aisle...then practically trip onto the stage. Yep, I definitely belong here — I am a true dork.

My number, as indicated by the enormous square of bright yellow cardboard hung around my neck, is 28 — coincidentally, the same number Al Sharpton was given when he was a guest speller during the Tony Awards performance. "Chip," the Cub Scout and "reigning champion," shows me where to sit on the bleachers. There's a musical number, I'm involved in a sight gag which I pull off like a pro, two actors are called up to spell, and then it's my turn.

I make my way a little nervously to the microphone at the front of the stage as the moderator perkily announces, "Miss Godan was voted 'Miss Congeniality' by her class for inviting the entire football team to her slumber party!" I play along with a demure little smile, and the audience cracks up. Man, I am loving this!

And then my word is "pakapu."

I am crestfallen. I have never heard this word before in my life. At least the audience seems to be enjoying/sharing in my reaction of utter confusion. I ask for the definition, as instructed (apparently it's some sort of Chinese lottery). I ask for a sentence, but the audience starts laughing so loudly I don't even hear it. Not like it would have even helped — the girl before me whose word was "jihad" got something like, "Mohammed always prepared the camel meat fresh each day at Ahmed's Jihad Deli."

[On a similar note: A few rounds later, another volunteer speller gets the word "cow," and sheepishly asks — as he's been told he absolutely MUST do — for the definition and for use in a sentence. The responses to these questions are, respectively: "It's a cow!" and "Spell the word 'cow'!"]

I tentatively repeat the word ("pock-a-poo...?"), then string together some reasonable-sounding letters and glance back at the judges hopefully.

*ding*

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

Devastation — I am the first contestant to be eliminated.

My mom tells me later that my face at that moment was perfect, that I really looked like a sad little girl. The audience gets a big laugh out of the "comfort counselor" — a large, thugged-out black man who is supposedly on parole and performing his "community service" — as he gives me a hug and a juice box before sending me back to my seat. At least I'm the first person to get "comforted," I think; the joke hasn't gotten old yet. Strangely, I do take some comfort in this. And maybe now I'll actually be able to hear the show — when you're onstage, everyone is singing with their backs to you, and I'm part-deaf as it is. And I was getting thirsty...

Afterwards, for the whole walk back to the train station, I can't stop giggling and asking did I sound ok and are you sure it was funny? I mean, people were laughing, right? I am so ridiculously proud of myself I'm practically floating down the streets of Manhattan.

I owe Courtney something REALLY good for Christmas next year. :)