Little One

I found the Singin' in the Rain package in my mailbox when I got home last night. I was glad it fit so I didn't have to waste a day picking it up at the post office. I didn't have time to get through much of it, but so far I'm kind of entertained by it.

In the package was a note referring to me by my top-secret code name, "Little One," which I had actually forgotten about until this week. Just thought I should tell the story on that.

Last season the Troika tour of Cats did their tech and previews at Reagle in the middle of our season. (I was a little bitter that I was too busy being PSM of Millie across the hall -- the idea of being on local crew for a production of Cats was absolutely hysterical to me.) Anyway, the traveling crew had a lot of people whose names we never actually found out, because they all went by names like Big Daddy, Big Mama, etc. and they in turn bestowed on our crew some new names that stuck for the rest of the season.

When they left and we began tech for Millie, somebody decided that the rest of us needed code names on headset. Mine became "Little One." Here's the story:
At the end of my first year, we were doing Sound of Music. And you know, there's like seven kids. So at the top of Act II we needed the kids, Max and Elsa on stage in order to start. Most nights I would be sitting in the booth while the kids were counted, and being told who the culprit was that we were waiting for.

So one night it had been maybe a long intermission, or I got held up with something in the lobby after calling places, and when I got back into the booth I hopped into my chair, put on my headset, and the first thing I hear is the tech director, Lori, say "OK, we just need the little one." Given the usual ritual of counting the kids at places, one would assume she meant the five-year-old girl playing Gretl. I press the talk button and say, "OK, we have the house," and Lori says, "Oh, we can go now." It now becomes clear that I'm the Little One. I thought it was pretty funny, and it stuck.