- There were two separate casts for the handful of primary roles. So, there were two Guineveres. One could sing but had no personality. The other had a lousy voice but plenty of moxie. Crowds loved the one with moxie. And, who could blame them? I'm having fun just typing "moxie." This has led me to the following beliefs: I believe personality trumps talent. As I have neither, I believe I'll have another beer.
- I was desperately, painfully in love with one of the guys that played Lancelot. For YEARS. He was (and, no doubt, still is) nothing short of brilliant and intelligence is hotter than anything else.
- He was also the only eighth grader with a full beard.
- Before the show, he would walk around in just his tights and turtleneck that, on stage, he wore under a heavy tunic. Tights, people. It was like watching those ballet guys. I stared. A lot. I blushed. A lot.
- At the time, I was one of those horribly shy people that worried about having to say anything and how it might be perceived, so I almost never said anything.* Yet, I, somehow, managed to try out for, and get into, the small chorus (maybe six of us?) that was part of every performance. [For motivational factors, see "On Lancelot" above.]
- The show ran for maybe two weeks, with three shows a week. Why, I don't know. The school wasn't that big. And the demand would have had to come up a few notches to be non-existent.
- My family came to opening night. After the performance, I changed out of my costume, sharing the buzz of kids high on performance adrenaline. Then, I met my family in the hallway, anticipating praise. I believe my mother's comment was "They should never make children do a show that long!"
* I got over this and never looked back.**
** Okay, I'm looking back right now, but you know what I mean.