I have a friend who has eye issues. Her eyes work just fine, thank God, because the mention of eyes makes her gag. Put in your contacts in front of her, and she’ll be dry heaving in the corner in thirty seconds flat. Since there is no way she is ever going to touch her own eye, she has a select group of eye buddies so that if she gets something stuck in there, a friend can keep her calm as they dig out the offending particle.
I was her eye buddy when we did Miracle on 34th Street, an awful musical my Meredith Wilson that includes a hateful Thanksgiving parade sequence. As a part of the parade, my eyeball-fearing friend had to be a cartwheeling clown. She had a giant, puffy, red fro wig to go with her clown jumpsuit. The effect was frightening and reminded me of why exactly I hate clowns.
But I still loved my friend, so one day when she came to me after the show, freaking out because there was something in her eye, I did my duty and went eyeball fishing. There was a little red thing in the corner of her eye, so I very gently pulled on the offending strand. And the red hair started coming out of her eye. But it kept coming. And coming! After about three inches, my friend was gagging in the direction of my shoes, and I couldn’t blame her. By the time I pulled the FOOT LONG piece of clown hair out of her eye, I was gagging, too!
I have no idea how she managed to get twelve inches of wig hair in her eye, but every time I get ready to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, I think of our parade sequence. And the clown hair. And my eye twitches.