The Bay Area Theatre Boy's Dream, Realized
So, a short entry to share with all of you the ridiculousness that is me. Some of you may thoroughly enjoy this entry with an agreeable spirit. Others may have thoughts of disgust and bewilderment running through their heads. In either case, here it is.
I had just arrived to set at City Hall in San Francisco for the new Harvey Milk movie. It was an early morning, seven in the a.m. I believe. I wandered in, almost blind without my coffee, and followed the neon yellow signs to where "HOLDING" was located. The blessings for a feature film extra are few and far between, and those usually come in the form of a kind soul hired to direct/wrangle/move us around. On this set, her name is Jennifer Jordan. Oh, my God. A gorgeous black lady who hails from Richmond, and with a hot body to boot. Of course, one has to ask her, "How do you keep that tight figure, Jen?" The answer is fittingly fabulous for her: "I used to be a dancer." Hot. So, I check in with Miss "Thing" Jen, get my paperwork, greet some of my crew, and set off in search of a caffeine fix.
Second stop is costumes. They had trucked all of the costumes over to City Hall from the old Tower Records Store, where we were based before. Only a few of our sets of costumes were lost, including mine. Luckily, I had checked into costumes with the cute and delightful Deirdre. It took us a while, and we had to steal from some of the other boy's items, but I finally ended up with two looks for the day, and somehow appearing halfway normal. Now, Deirdre is only one of two people in costumes I can stand. She is about 5'2" or 3", pixie haircut, and somewhat magical. The other is Mic, a fabulous older gay man who features a new cap almost every day, along with a new display of wit and charm. One woman on costumes I am not a fan of is someone we in the background actor's circle refer to as "Cruella," for obvious reasons. She either has the biggest stick up her ass known to man, or needs to get something of equal size rammed into her va-jay-jay A.S.A.P. I'm just not sure what her problem is. When checking in with her, you can't blink, twitch, God forbid stutter, or FORGET YOUR WARDROBE NUMBER. These things may very well set off this beast to attack mode, the exchange ending with you on costume's shit list and looking more than lousy. My friend Ethan was opposed to waring a shirt the other day, simply because the Costume Designer himself didn't like it and it fit him poorly. Ethan didn't get much more than a word of protest out before Cruella snapped, "This ISN'T Macy's". It took all my strength not to laugh right in her face, as I was just beside him.
Enough about costumes. I returned to holding, coffee and costumes in tow, and went to change. When I returned, and sat down with a few friends, I noticed something exciting happening just behind me, at the next table. She was wonderful. Hair, feathered and curled back in a perfect 70's masterpiece. Her laughter was intoxicating. I continued to converse with my buddies, but all the while, bothered with who this creature was. Shortly, I spun around in my chair, and we began to discuss or costumes. She was fabulous, yet down to earth. Hot and sassy, but still smooth and mellow enough to not scare folk away. I went back to my conversation with my friends for a bit, until I heard the fantastic and long-legged Jen announcing people needed for the next shot: "Michael, Jessica, Carl, C.Kelly..."
"My ears perked and my soul clamped with a fervor I've not known for some time. My magnificent dork cape was on in full glory. Could this be C. Kelly Wright? Bay Area Theatre Goddess? The luscious diva I saw in such productions as Children of Eden at the Willows Theatre to Dessa Rose at TheatreWorks? And who would soon be starring AS Caroline IN Caroline, Or Change at TheatreWorks? I had to know. I rushed over to Jen, checking off her list. I asked her if C. Kelly's last name was Wright. She said she wasn't sure, and pushed the list over for me to see. It sure fucking was. C. Kelly Wright...City Hall Businesswoman. Although I had seen her in plenty of shows, I had never met nor seen her close up, face-to-face.
I went up to her at the next moment she was free. I said, "Excuse me, C. Kelly? I have to tell you, I'm a Bay Area theatre boy, and I've seen you in just about everything you've done, and I can't be more excited to see you as Caroline. I'm so glad you're playing it." She immediately rose from her seat, and gave me a big hug. She asked me my name, and said it over to herself, with a puzzled look of "I have now clue who you are" on her face, but it's a-okay with me. After we listened to Janet Jackson's Feedback on my ipod, I felt confident enough to ask her for this:
The C.Kelly Wright. In a 70's pantsuit. Soooooo good. PS, there are gold pumps on her below the camera shot. And LORD, look at me. Am I taking on the role of little gay boy theatre fan to the upmost extreme, or what?!