What the Hell Just HIT Me?

What the Hell Just Hit Me
So then…the music soars to a crescendo as the actors scurry about the Broadway stage — which my boyfriend and I can see perfectly from our fantastic theatre seats.

Just as we’re experiencing the spectacular re-enactment of the Fall of Saigon, something comes hurtling off the stage and hits me square in the chest.

I am stunned.

I feel around on the dark theatre floor but cannot locate the offending object. I look to my left, my right. No one looks aghast. They stare straight ahead.

Did I imagine that assault? I could swear something came right off that stage and hit me and…oh, wow, look at that building go up in flames! and a helicopter is taking off! and now the villagers are running amok!…this IS spectacular…

As we walk back to the hotel, we talk about how amazing the show is.

After several over-priced cocktails in the lobby bar, we go up to our hotel room and my boyfriend sexily swaggers over to me – although, frankly, it’s more like a stagger than a swagger –

and he whispers, “Comeer, you Hatamala,” which I first assumed was some new Asian nickname, inspired by our recent viewing of the revival of the “Miss Saigon” Musical, but soon realize was meant to be: “Come here, you Hot Tamale,” which is not only not in keeping with tonight’s Asian theme, but somewhat of a misnomer since I don’t personally possess any Latin blood.

My tipsy and yet still appealing boyfriend, continues his sweet-talking/slurring, wraps an arm around me, kisses me, then quite expertly unbuttons my blouse with his free hand. It appears the liquor has affected his diction more than his dexterity. It is going to be a good night.

Then he shrieks. And I don’t mean a manly shriek, like the kind that should come from a strong, strapping man of 6 feet like my boyfriend. I mean a high-pitched shrill of a shriek, reminiscent of a high society grande dame experiencing her first bikini wax.

“What?! What?!” I shout.

He points to my chest with considerable fear, and no small amount of revulsion. And there, on my chest, is a HUGE blue bruise with purple tentacles shooting out in all directions!

So now I shriek. I run to the mirror to get a better look at the mass and hue of this enormous skin condition, when it hits me – yes, hits me – just like I was hit not two hours ago in the theatre! I knew it! I knew something had hit me!

I turn to my boyfriend, who is anxiously seeking solace in the minibar’s mini bottles, and I exclaim: “Somesing in zee shoo hit my chezz, my chezz!” (Given my Irish heritage, I can only assume my current French accent is a temporary side effect of the over-priced lobby cocktails.) And yet, my boyfriend seems to understand exactly what I am saying, as slurring is the universal language of all inebriated.

So he calls the hotel operator and asks to be connected to the “Miss Saigon” theatre, which takes some time to communicate since the operator’s obviously not had the benefit of the afore-mentioned lobby cocktails, rendering her unfamiliar with our language.

Finally, we get through to the theatre stage manager and I say, in my most sober and nonchalant voice, “Didja happen to lose any props in tonight’s shoo?”

Pause.

“Why do you ask?” he says.

Aha! I knew it! That’s a clear admission of guilt!

“Calm down!” he says. (It’s at this point I realize I have spoken that accusation out loud.)

“My chezz has a HUGE bruise onnit! I wuzz hit by somesing from your stage!” I proclaim.

“Oh. Well, during the Saigon battle scene, we tie sandbags on the propellers of the helicopter to keep the blades from shooting out and…well, two of the sandbags are missing.”

“Missing!?”

“Yes, apparently, one flew off and hit a lady in the leg and I guess the other one hit you in the chezz…chest. We’ll gladly pay for the doctor visit. We’re really sorr—“

“What did the other lady say?”

“She said she’s fine, but the incident distracted her from enjoying the show. So we’re giving her free tickets to see it again.”

Pause.

I sober instantly.

I spout forth: “Four tickets. Backstage pass. Autographed program. And double-knot the sandbags this time!”

— Darcy Perdu

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(Yep, true story. Thank God only the sandbags came shooting off stage and not the propeller blades!! However, we had to get back home to LA, so I gave the free tix to my boyfriend’s NY relatives. So how about YOU? Ever had something odd happen – then a theatre, restaurant, hotel, company, etc. had to make it up to you? Any funny stories about shows, concerts, plays? Do tell in the Comments Section!)
What the Hell Just Hit Me

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49 replies on “What the Hell Just HIT Me?

  1. LOL! OMG I would FREAK OUT and everyone would have to stop and see wtf hit me!! I would not continue going like nothing happened! At least you got something out of it :) Have a great one Darcy! -Iva
    Awesomely Over-Zealous recently posted..Welcome to the redesigned blog!My Profile

    • Seriously! If other people around me had noticed, I probably would’ve stopped the show and insisted they turn the house lights on! But since no one else noticed, I just went right back to watching the show! (I’m easily influenced!)

  2. Julie said:

    I got nothing for this one Darcy. Except that I am a big baby and everyone would have known I got hit by something. Serious.

    • Haha! It’s funny ’cause the other lady ALSO got hit and I guess she didn’t jump up and shout either! The show WAS pretty mesmerizing!

  3. OMG!!! I can’t believe you were hit by a sandbag that left you with a horrible bruise and you just kept watching the show! You poor thing!! (and yes, thank GOD it wasn’t the propeller! GAH!)
    I’ve never had anything happen like that, in fact, it never crossed my mind. But now I’m going to be thinking of nothing else the next time I go to the theater!! Maybe I ought to pre-drink to make sure I can enjoy myself! :D –Lisa

    • ha, Lisa — yes, pre-drinking is ALWAYS a good idea!

  4. What?!? Can you hear my laughter? Can you? I do apologize but this is very funny. What a shock for your boyfriend and then for you. I’m trying to think if I’ve ever had that or something similar happen. I don’t think so. Wait – I have been spat on. Does that count? A a play in San Fran about 20 years ago. Main character spouting a tune sprayed me with honking gobs of spit. I tend to sit at least one row back now …
    Kelly McKenzie recently posted..The Eagles Are So Much More Than A BandMy Profile

    • Yikes! Good advice to sit one row back, then! Ha!

  5. Oh my gosh! I thought you were going to say it was air. I went to a show about mice and they had strong air blow at your feet during the play to make you think mice were scurrying on the floor, and that’s exactly what I thought.
    Ashlee recently posted..Happy World Toilet DayMy Profile

    • that’s so funny that they blew air at your feet to simulate mice! the Mummy ride at Universal squirts air or water at your feet to simulate spiders! but this was no simulation — this was full-on sandbag to the chest! ha!

    • You’re the second commenter who has been spit on! Let’s install some splash guards in those theatres!

  6. Kim said:

    So then…I take my hubby to his first ever hockey game and you guessed it…he took a direct hit in the chest by the hockey puck! He still has it as a souvenir! That was his first and only hockey game, I might add.

    • Omigosh!! That is some serious business, there! I only had a squishy sandbag! He had a hard round little hockey puck! No wonder it was his first and only hockey game!! Ouch!

  7. Stacie from St. Louis said:

    Horrifying!!!

    Once when I was on an airplane the overhead compartment above my seat flew open while the plane was taking off. A French horn fell out and hit me on the head. I thought the plane was crashing, LOL.

    • Haha! I LOVE this! I LOVE that it was a French horn that hit you on the head!! That’s a classic!

  8. Yikes!!!! I have to say I have never been hit with anything on stage. I do however have a lovely scar on my arm from when I was on stage and fell face first in the middle of my song. It was quite a song!!! I didn’t get free tickets or anything!! Lol!
    Kathy Radigan recently posted..Five Reasons I’m Thankful I’m not a TurkeyMy Profile

    • omg, Kathy, we need more details!! how old were you? what song were you singing? why did you fall? we need details! and pics!

  9. That’s crazy!!!! What are the odds, right?! Oh, and why is it that, when we’re drunk, we can understand anything that another drunk person says?! HILARIOUS post (as always!)!!!

    • thanks, Dani! and yes I love that drunkies can understand other drunkies (or THINK they do!)

      • Julie said:

        “(or THINK they do!)”

        That right there is the key, my friends! ;)

  10. Paul said:

    Honestly Darcy you truly do get into some of the funniest and most amazing situations. But there are, occasionally, some details that are difficult to believe. For instance I can certainly accept you being seated in an audience watching a play when a sandbag flies off the spinning rotor of an operational helicopter sitting on the stage inside the building and strikes you on the chest, yet doesn’t interrupt your appreciation of the show. However it is hard to swallow that your boyfriend of some regularity should not realize that you are, in fact, the alter ego of the superhero “The Blue Octopus”. And that when danger or lust loom, you change into your superhero persona – starting with the appearance of the caricature of the crime-fighter on your chest and followed by your physical conversion. I mean, after all, what else could he think a blue body with purple tentacles could be? And how could he not know you were actually a superhero if he was your boyfriend for any length of time? I mean, puhleeze – “And I don’t mean a manly shriek…” – you’re just dissing us poor men again. Sheesh! (Of course, there is always the possibility that he did know what the markings on your torso indicated, and he was afraid of facing an amorous female Blue Octopus with a few drinks in her…)

    • Paul, you crack me up!! I actually went to Google the phrase “The Blue Octopus” to see what that superhero looks like!! I wanted to see if she was hot and sexy and powerful!! And there IS no Blue Octopus superhero!

      But NOW there is! I think you are exactly right — I AM converting to a superhero, based on that blue & purple design that developed from the obviously-radioactive sandbag! If a spider can give Peter Parker special powers, a sandbag can give ME super special powers!

      • Paul said:

        OMG!I didn’t realize that you weren’t aware that YOU are the One and Only hot, sexy and powerful Blue Octopus! Of course there is no record in Google because you are a private and mysterious Superhero who hasn’t yet let the world know of your covert crimefighting.

        • you are hilarious, Paul! and with such an active imagination!
          gotta dash now — zipping off to stop an armed robbery in my OctopusMobile!

    • yes! it happened so quickly and no one else even noticed it, so I thought I must have imagined it!!

  11. Marta said:

    Years ago my boyfriend took me to a very nice restaurant. We were just out of college so it was a real treat. As we were sitting there I notice a couple at a table near us had ordered champagne. The waiter was making a big show about opening the bottle, which popped loudly, startling everyone in the room. Especially my boyfriend who got hit square in the back of the head with the cork! The waiter apologized but didn’t offer any compensation for the injury ( I think we were laughing too hard). I remember saying “now we will never forget this night!” That’s for sure! He proposed later that evening <3

    • That’s a great story! The restaurant should definitely have comped your meal — or at least sent over a bottle of wine!

      And that’s so awesome that he PROPOSED that night! Musta been that blow to his head from the cork — it was the Universe bonking him on the head, like “hey, grab this girl quick — she’s the one!”

  12. Hahahaha. What are the odds? Oh yeah, two out of?? I have no idea how many people fit into the theatre, but still, from your story they seem pretty high. That must be why Sven has never taken me to a Broadway Show. He’s a keeper.

    P.S. Thanks for the gift card : )

    • Sven just been trying to protect you from errant stage props!

  13. Tamsyn said:

    My experience is not from a show, but I was volunteering as a flag person at a Half Marathon when an entire ceiling fan fell from the ceiling of the Recreation Centre we were gathered in post race. It landed less than 6 inches from where I stood. The people running the Rec Centre were not available for comment as it was the weekend and never returned my calls.

    • Holy Cow! You coulda been decapitated for Pete’s sake! Glad you survived that!

      • Tamsyn said:

        I’m glad it didn’t actually land on anyone but it is definitely nerve wracking to have unexpected projectiles come at you. Lol. Maybe next time the Blue Octopus will be there to save the day?

        • lol! yes! the Blue Octopus should have shot out a tentacle to fiercely bat away that sand bag! :o)

  14. Hmmm, it seems as though I commented earlier in the day, because I was totally curious as to whether or not anybody ended up getting to third base between you and your boyfriend, but maybe I didn’t. Or maybe I did and you deleted it? Lol, could be. Anyway, your blog is pretty tits (tits are good and mean good). I am so sad that somebody else from MO already got a t shirt. That person is probably a bitch.

    • Don, yes, I did see your question — and I did answer it a bit late — crazy day over here today. Glad to hear that my blog is the tits. I take that as a big compliment. Sorry you missed out on the shirt for the first subscriber from MO — but there are still a couple states that haven’t been covered for the first official subscriber — so the solution is simple — just move to one of those states and voila — you get your free shirt! Totally worth it!

    • at movie theatres, I always think that it’s popcorn hitting me. at least I HOPE it’s popcorn! :o)