When you know your country is way too small. . .

So first year, in a moment of insanity, I auditioned for a community theater production of Anything Goes scheduled to tour Israel in the spring. I was cast as the lead and spent the rest of the year in a panic, frantically hiding pharmacology cards in my costumes to glance at backstage between scenes and rehearsing dance numbers in my head during microbiology class and generally being underslept, overstretched, and ruing my decision.

I had effectively put the whole experience out of my mind until this afternoon when, sitting in a coffeeshop downtown, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a familiar red dress on the large television screen behind the counter. Casually looking up, I was horrified to see. . . me, dancing in a red velvet dress with a feather boa. I then appeared, just about life-sized (which isn't very big but still), in a slip and my voice, singing "Blow, Gabriel, blow," assaulted me from what felt like ten million hidden loudspeakers.

This commercial for the theater group, featuring a good 90 seconds of garishly becostumed me, was repeated six times as I sat trying to have a very serious (very doctorly of course) group meeting.



Kind of fun. Kind of painful and embarrassing.