Today’s lucky guest post is by Kathleen Varn. She is the author of “Ameera Unveiled.”
Picking Teams on the Playground by Kathleen Varn
I’m not sure how many readers remember the joy –or angst– on the playground when picking teams. I was a late bloomer, twig of a child (and yes, my mother was right, I now appreciate that quality in my AARP days).
Dodge ball, kick ball and Red Rover only gave me bruises, not trophies. For more than forty years I have tucked the unfulfilled ‘pick me’ ghost away. She resurrects herself once in a while in social venues where I still seem to stay in the shadows. Until…..
My husband and best friend popped out to Vegas for Superbowl weekend. We love Cirque du Soleil shows and hubby bought us tickets to Zumanity. Peeking over his shoulder, the website synopsis read: “Zumanity is a seductive twist on reality, making the provocative playful….Part burlesque and part cabaret, Zumanity is one full night you’ll never forget.”
I didn’t realize the prophecy within the description.
On Friday night of the show, we wore outfits that we interpreted as Zumanity-worthy. Mine was a sequin top and jacket, grounded by the cutest grey ankle boots with more glitter. We were escorted to second row seats. Wow, what luck!
We had a great view of the stage… or Zumanity playground. As we sipped on adult beverages and waited for the show to start, Casanova, the cheesy lover in a silver suit, strolled along the stage, flirting with the audience. As he passed our section, he pointed in our direction and I anxiously looked behind me to see who he was targeting. When I turned back, he was pointing at me, eyebrow raised and summoning me to the pre-show stage. My husband nudged me to go.
Lucky me, I muttered. I endured, playing along with his provocative playfulness. As I returned to my seat, I thought, I finally got picked! I had no idea…
Last scene of the show and the cast was searching the theater for more victims– I mean participants. Casanova stopped at our row, flirting with the young girl at the end. Then, he raised his head and fixed on me, grinning.
“Come, bella,” he said. Again, my husband nudged me. The possible future provocative playful situations pulsed in my brain… or was that my blood pressure?
For the next five minutes, I was interviewed, danced with, and eventually Casanova laid on the floor. As captain of the team, his final request was silly but hundreds of eyes including my husband’s riveted on me for my response. I looked at my husband and mouthed “I’m sorry!” As I kneeled and participated in the adult game, I thought, Lucky me!
Casanova gave me a hug and escorted me backstage, thanking me for being a good sport. (There’s another pun!)
I suppose being picked first for playground games is now off the bucket list.
Lucky me! – Kathleen Varn
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