Pride Goeth Before The Fall...(or before the punch in the face, in my case.)

This is long, and it might be one of those stories that makes sense to the teller, but is jibberish to everyone else. Also, makes me seem narcissistic. Don't feel obligated to read it.


When I was 18 and just shy of my high school graduation, I was in a La Center High School production of Tony and Tina's Wedding. It was very close to the most fun thing I have ever done.

We spent weeks in class practicing our Brooklyn accents, building up our improv skills, and studying character bios, because Tony and Tina's Wedding, in case you are not aware, is an interactive play. The audience participates as the wedding guests, and we, as the cast, were the wedding party and family of the bride and groom.

I was awarded the part of Connie Mocogni, the pregnant matron of honor. She was just edgy enough to cause some scandal. I gelled my hair into a faux-hawk before it was the trendy thing to do, I made myself up with heavy eyeliner and black lipstick, and even sported a nose ring. From the neck up, I looked like the kind of girl you wouldn't want to bring home to mother. Underneath my bridesmaid dress, I wore a foam pregnant stomach. It made me sweat a lot.

In the non-high school version of the play Connie is the pregnant, unwed maid of honor, but because Mr. McCullough had to be careful to avoid any perceived indecency that might upset parents or the school board, my stage husband, "Barry", and I were instructed to wear a ring on our left hands and refer to each other as husband and wife. Mr. McCullough also had to remind us before every performance not to drink the sparkling cider directly from the bottle, thus making us look like a bunch of drunks. But we never listened. Poor man probably stressed a few years off of his life from all the unsavory things that we pretended to be involved in - and he only knew the half of it. That's what happens when you give creative freedom to a bunch of invincible, arrogant teenagers.

My role in the play was to be the edgy and socially inappropriate best friend of the bride, "Tina", and through the course of the night I was to become more and more hostile in my relationship with "Tina" before making up with her just before the end of the play - like all self-respecting, overly-emotional Italians do. "Tina" was played by a friend of mine from church, and I mean we were friends at church and friendly at school, but didn't hang in the same crowds outside of church. Her name was Rachel.

The cast rehearsed for this play for several weeks, had a dress rehearsal, and found ourselves ready for opening night. The place was booked for all four performances, and the ability to slip into a different persona for an evening gave me a kind of reckless abandon that robbed me of my better judgment. As in, perhaps I took things too far.

At one point in the play, I got to give a toast to honor the newlyweds. At this point though, I was to act mildly intoxicated, and considering that I've never actually been drunk in real life, I have no clue whether my performance was believable.

I stood in the middle of the room with a microphone and began my toast innocently enough, but slowly slipped into a fit of inebriated insults which I hurled at "Tina" relentlessly. I told her she looked like a cow in her wedding dress and asked her why she was wearing white, anyway? Keeping in mind that I was supposed to say these kinds of things, "Tina" was then meant to leave her spot on the raised bridal party table and come at me to start a cat fight. Two guys in the wedding party were then to break us up just before she got close enough to actually engage me in a Bridezilla-type brawl. Then the guys were to cart us off to different parts of the room to "cool off". The whole scene went like clockwork. It was unbelievable fun to behave in such a way in so public a setting. It wasn't in my nature at all to be that way, so this interaction was a great chance to feel so brash and daring.

The day after opening night, I was swarmed with people telling me that I had given an amazing performance, that I had "stolen the show", and everyone was so impressed! Even Mr. McCullough praised me for my quick wit and comical additions to what we had planned in rehearsal. When I stopped at my usual coffee kiosk in Battle Ground to pick up my daily hot chocolate, the proprietor exclaimed, "I saw you in the play last night! You were great!..." And her compliments, as well as others, went on until my head and ego were inflated to unhealthy proportions. That night, I stepped things up a little further, threw in a bit more attitude, and went for the kill. We were all a hit for the second time, and the high I experienced must have been better than something drug induced. But I wouldn't know for sure.

On the third night of our play, I detected a little bit of jealousy coming from Rachel as she did a fantastic job of playing the lead in the play. When "Tina", the other bridesmaids and I did our lip-sync number to "Like a Virgin", I failed to take the hint and did not back off in the least, but kept right on stealing Rachel's thunder and pointing at her butt before making gestures indicating that it was huge. I feel a bit bad about it now, but would not change anything, because, like I said - most fun thing I've ever done.

On the closing night of our play, I found myself in that same spot on the middle of the floor, toasting and then insulting "Tina" until she had had enough and came for me. As she strode across the floor with daggers in her eyes, I saw something flash behind her acting face that told me I might have sounded a little too sincere when I threw in that last comment about her dress size or her purity - whatever it might have been. It was like one of those bad dreams where you know something terrible is about to happen, but any attempt to thwart the impending horror leaves you paralyzed and vulnerable.

Before anyone could surmise what Rachel was about to do, she sped up her stride and punched me right in the mouth. And then, because we were still performing, (or so I would like to believe), she knocked me down and straddled me so that she could finish the job. I was in such a daze that I wasn't even fighting back. I just lay there, bleeding from the lip and wondering what was going on? Someone pulled her off of me, and another someone lifted me off the ground. I noticed that tears were leaking from my eyes and smearing all that eyeliner down my cheeks, and that infuriated me more than the punch, because no way would "Connie" cry. At the time, I couldn't help but think that the entire escapade had been premeditated as revenge for three nights worth of getting to play the villain, and perhaps playing my part too well. I think it safe to say that Rachel stole her show back from me that night, and put me in my place for sure.

There was no apology from Rachel for ducking the well-planned and practiced stage moves that would have kept her from reaching me before the wedding bouncers did, but nor was there an apology from me for basking in the limelight while she settled for runner-up. I'd like to say that I became a better person after the cheap shot, but in truthfulness, when, six months and a year later, people were still stopping me from time to time to tell me how well I had done in that play, I couldn't help but lick the inside of my lower lip, taste the memory of blood, and think, "Take that, Rachel!"

But now, in case Rachel should ever happen upon this story, (although I hope she doesn't because it still sounds horribly arrogant), I would like to say to her that I am sorry for stealing the spotlight. The play was titled, after all, "Tony and Tina's Wedding", not "Connie, the Brazen Matron of Honor". And I am also sorry for any hurt feelings that might have come from my portrayal of Connie. None of my remarks came from me, they were acting, and I did not then, nor do I now, believe any of them to be true. And the last time I saw you, Rachel, you looked super hot. I also need to compliment you on your fighting skills, because there was a lump inside my lip where you hit me for two solid years. And every time I felt it, I thought, "Dang...she's good."