You Won’t Find This in the Medicine Aisle

Well, the evening certainly started out on the right note. We left the house laughing and continued to laugh throughout much of the night.

We’d just finished eating at a new barbecue restaurant, and despite the fact that it was just a tad pricey, we’d enjoyed the food and the ambience.

As usual, I’d ordered iced tea with my meal and since we still had a bit of a drive to the play we were attending, I decided to visit the Ladies Room before leaving the restaurant.

I marveled at the lovely, rustic decor as I left my husband waiting at the display wall of hot sauces.

“Ohhh. Isn’t this pretty?” I called over my shoulder and nodded toward the beautiful glass fireplace to my left.

When I pulled open the massive door to the Ladies Room, my eyes traveled first to the single stall and then to the shiny, spic-and-span urinal positioned attractively between two, oak partitions. Blessedly, no one was using it! The Men’s Room was unoccupied at that moment.

“Way to corrupt me, Momma,” my daughter (who’d followed me inside) laughed.

I’m not sure why it took a moment to connect that I was in the wrong place. In this day and age of equality, I thought that maybe the urinal was something they were installing in all public places now, regardless of gender.

I know. Sad, but true, how our minds reason sometimes.

Well, suffice it to say, I found the correct restroom and we were back on the road in a few moments.

It began to rain as we settled in for the drive down to the Branson area.

Traffic was thick for a Saturday night and our pace slowed to almost a crawl. Initially, we chalked it up to holiday shoppers and folks getting off work, but then our speed fell to about 25 miles per hour, and we feared the worst. There was either an elderly driver up ahead or there had been a wreck.

The brake lights on the cars in front of us flickered off and on periodically. This continued around every curve, down every hill, up every incline, and even while meeting oncoming vehicles, and the pace lasted a good ten minutes.

Finally, the source of the hold-up eased onto the shoulder before finally turning.

“What’s a man on a moped doing driving in the rain on a major highway? And with no lights on!” Hubbie observed as we passed.

Indeed.

We arrived at College of the Ozarks, parked at the nearby Jones Auditorium, and settled in to see the December theatrical production of Everybody’s Girl.

To give a little background, Everybody’s Girl is a comedy by John Patrick and it’s set in the 1960’s in the town of Harmony, Maine.  The story centers around Beatrise Bundie, the town mayor, who’s most recent claim to fame is having had a Japanese duck land in her back yard.

The duck incident sets off a hilarious chain of events, beginning with a newspaper reporter out to make some quick cash and a name for himself.

“Gil Bingham” learns several interesting facts about Beatrise in his quest to sniff out a good story: She has five sons who are POWs. She also runs a home for “wayward” girls. She seems to know everything about everybody and has a gift of gab that would rival a fast-talking salesman.

Gil deems Beatrise “Mother of the Year” material and launches a calculated campaign to make this happen. The “ooops factor” comes when we learn that Beatrise has never, ever been married.

I won’t reveal the spoiler in case you ever have the opportunity to see the play, but just keep in mind that there’s always more to a story than meets the eye initially. (Of course, we writers love this aspect.)

From the outset, it was clear that the shining star of the evening would be the young lady who portrayed Beatrise. She was charming, mesmerizing, and truly quite funny.

Other cast members weighed in with remarkable talent and timing to make this production an outstanding performance. (My sides actually hurt from laughing so hard. A good sign for a comedy.)

From beginning to end, the audience was captivated by the cast’s ability to connect and deliver. 

And I smiled during the entire trip back home. From mixed up restrooms to a play about a mom and a duck, the whole, cornballish evening had offered something not to be found in a medicine aisle: a whole lot of laughter.

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What’s your idea of family fun?

Is laughter really the best medicine?