Friday night full house

Wow, remember how I told you last Tuesday night about how during Romeo and Juliet's suicide scene, Romeo falls backwards down the stairs? The guys who've been dancing the part generally have been falling from either a low crouch or a kneeling position. Until tonight. Tonight's Romeo—a tall, gorgeous, blond boy—looked so distraught as he replaced Juliet on her bier (after carrying her all around balanced on one hand over his head), and then he stood to his full height, all the way up on the tips of his toes, and just leaned back and fell backwards down the steps like a diver on the high board. He elicited gasps from the audience, as well as from some of the people backstage.

Tonight's leading couple were pretty good. They came the closest so far to making me want to cry during their final scene. Maybe I should let that happen sometime, since it would be in character—my female partner and I, as mourners, come out with Juliet's parents in the very last minute of the ballet to gaze upon the unfortunate couple as the curtain falls.

During tonight's sword fight, Tybalt accidentally nicked Mercutio (I told you these were real and not just stage movement), and that seriously pissed off Mercutio, so the sword fight got very hard and vigorous. When Tybalt came off stage after "killing" Mercutio, he threw down his sword and bent over, gasping for breath, and holding his over-worked sword arm in pain. He recovered before going back out to have his terminal swordfight with Romeo. Ah, the joys of live theater.

I learned some interesting new bits of trivia this week:

There's a neat invention in an aerosol can called "Instant Ice" that backstage personnel use to spray on the ankles and feet of dancers who come off stage limping before they go back on for more dancing.

Newer members of the rank and file—the corps de ballet— make the equivalent of about $750 per month salary.

When you see the male dancers in those beautiful velvet tops decorated with real pearls, jewels, or metallic thread, they are literally sewn into their costume.

Those tops have specific names: a waist-length top is called a doublet, a mid-butt length top is a tunic, and a mid-thigh length top is a jerkin.

The Russians in the dressing room next to ours go through about two cases of beer per performance.

There's a contract between the Kirov and the Kennedy Center prohibiting the taking of "unauthorized" photographs (which is why I've not had any dancer pics this week).

My fellow supernumeraries with whom I share a dressing room include a gynecologist, a Ph.D. economist from the World Bank, an EPA manager, a guy with a masters in ballet, a truck driver, and a former editor of Penthouse magazine. Several of these guys drive over an hour one way to get to and from the Kennedy Center.

Oh, while I was walking over to the Kennedy Center, I passed by Condoleeza Rice walking on the sidewalk outside the Watergate (where she lives), talking with one man and accompanied by two Secret Service agents. As I passed by, I nodded and said, "Madam Secretary," and she paused, looked at me, and said, "Oh, hiiiiii!" Yeah, I'm sure she recognized me. Uh-huh.

Three more shows to go. Tomorrow will be a long day.