31 Days of Writing: Day Nine "A First"

Describe a "first" {first apartment, first kiss, first time driving a car, first lie, first big success, first roller coaster ride, first time in this setting}. Include as many details as possible, being sure to include an aspect relating to each of the five senses.

The class had been practicing for weeks, months even, and now it was showtime. We, the class of three-year-olds, were dropped backstage by our parents and ushered into a large room crowded with other classes. The smell of hairspray was thick in the air, and everyone's stomachs were tight with nerves.

My class was allowed to sit in front of a small television; some movie was playing, but it was hard to hear above the dull roar of hundreds of dancers nervously talking and laughing together. Every few minutes a stage mom would "SHHHHH!" us, but the volume always came back up again.

One by one, my classmates and I were pulled away from whatever movie we were attempting to watch and our hair and make-up was done. Every single hair on my head was pulled tightly back into a bun, and the hairspray was applied so liberally I'm sure a tornado would not displace a single strand.

Make-up was fun, except for the stage mom's coffee breath. A little too up close and personal, you know? But that was soon over, and I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. Some final touches of lipstick were applied, and then I was changed into my tutu. Gummy bears are bright colors, obviously, and so was my tutu: orange, red, and green layers covered my little bum, sticking out appropriately since Mom and I had carefully followed the directions to hang the tutu upside down.

Someone made sure my slippers were on tight {hairspray to secure the elastic-cold on my feet!} and I was directed to rejoin my class. And then, without warning, my whole class was being whisked away, off to the chaotic and confusing labyrinth of the backstage. Curtains hung from two stories up; principal dancers rushed from the stage to the wings and back onto the stage. My class was flanked by two "big girls" who were ready to guide us in our steps. We waited anxiously in the wings, preparing for our cue when suddenly my bladder caught my attention. Uh oh.

I tried to get the attention of the big girl in front of me. My arm reached, but I was too far back. I took a step closer, extending my arm once more.

"Get back in line!" hissed the big girl behind me.

I obeyed, but kept up my pursuit of the nice big girl in front of me. If I stood on my tip-toes, I could almost reach her....

The big girl behind me tapped my shoulder and shook her head at me. I gave up, defeated. And then I did what any reasonable three-year-old would do: I started to cry.

And cue the Gummy Bears.

I followed the girls in front of me onto the stage. I stood in the line and tried to follow the big girls' lead through my tears. Suddenly the face of my beloved teacher was next to me.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Miss Shannon, my hero, asked kindly.

"I...have...have...to go to the bathroom!" I choked.

"Well, come with me! We'll get you to the bathroom." And she mercifully led me off stage, cheering me with the fact that I would get to use the restroom for the principal dancers, thereby qualifying it as a "special bathroom." So I stopped crying.

My parents picked me up after the performance, worried that I was not alright. But by then, I was. My need had been met, I got rescued by my favorite teacher, and I got to use the special bathroom. What more did you need for your first ballet performance?


**linking up with Victoria. Join us!**