Many winters ago, when my son was 11, he tried to teach me how to play Chess. We’d snuggle into our PJs and spend about a half hour before bedtime playing part of a game with his hand-painted, collector’s edition, Super Mario set. I was terrible. Couldn’t even remember which pieces were allowed which moves. “What did you say a knight does?” I’d ask for the umpteenth time. My son would sigh and explain once more. Time and time again, his Princess Peach (bishop) would push over my Goomba (rook) and his Luigi (queen) would overtake my Bowser (king) to win the game. Over and over, I got knocked down. But I got up again and kept playing. Eventually, one cold, snowy, winter’s night, I won! Neither of us could believe it. Game on!
When I was dancing in the musical Chess, as you’ll read below, I also got knocked down. The important thing is, I didn’t stay down. In the course of pursuing your dreams, you, too, may topple, tumble, and suffer some hard knocks. You may feel bruised and battered, but you can still bounce back. Dust yourself off and get back in the game.
Please enjoy your next excerpt from
Long Legs and Tall Tales: A Showgirl’s Wacky, Sexy Journey to the Playboy Mansion and the Radio City Rockettes
by Kristi Lynn Davis
The second show at the Starlight Bowl was Chess—a rock musical about American-Russian relations, illustrated metaphorically through a competitive professional chess match between an American and a Russian chess master. Also thrown in was a love triangle between the brash American, his female manager, and his Russian competitor/nemesis. I had seen the show in London and was blown away. I absolutely loved the music, which was co-written by two of the singers from the famous pop group ABBA. “One in Night in Bangkok” was a radio hit dance tune from the eighties, and I knew it well. Rock musicals seemed to move me more than any other type of musical. Music was this show’s strong point.
This was the first show of the season not directed by the Wards. Instead, a silver-and-gray haired guy named Jamie Rocco directed with his sexy sidekick choreographer, Donna Drake. It appeared that I left little impression on Mr. Rocco, because he paid me next to no notice. I never had an inkling what the backgrounds of the directors and choreographers were until the Playbill came out, at which point I would eagerly flip through to find their biographies. It turns out that Rocco had starred on Broadway in Cats and had directed and choreographed in many theatres around the United States and in London as well. Donna had been in the original cast of A Chorus Line. Now I was really impressed.
Our two male leads—the Russian and American chess competitors—were both handsome, sexy men. The American guy looked like a smokin’ hot rock star with streaky, spiky blond hair and tiny, gold hoop earrings in his ears. Boy, could he wail. I stood mesmerized as I watched him sing his solo, gyrating like a true rock star and ending dramatically on his knees, his back arched, head facing heavenward. I wished I had an ounce of his vocal talent. He was jaw-droppingly captivating. The Russian was attractive in a more stately way and belted out those ABBA tunes with the power of a proud Soviet.
Yet again, I was thrown for a loop when I heard a rumor that another super cute guy from the ensemble who had been dating one of the female cast members dropped her like a hot potato and hooked up with one of the other babe-alicious dudes instead. Hold on! Not fair! That took two of the prime dating possibilities out of the running in one fell swoop. Figuring out who to flirt with became confusing, because these guys did not look or act like stereotypical gay men. But really, was it fair for so many gorgeous, talented guys to play for the other team?
Along with our amazing superstar talent, we had the perfect set for a show entitled Chess—a giant chess board, of course! Ours covered most of the stage. What made it particularly interesting was that its squares could be lit in different patterns and the whole board could be tilted on an angle or rotated. Very cool and effective visually. The set was so treacherously slick, however, that it was more like an ice rink than a game board. I had been slipping in rehearsal and asked wardrobe for some help. They gave me rough-surface stickers to adhere to the soles of my shoes. The stickers were cheap and ineffective and peeled off when I danced, but that’s all wardrobe would offer.
“One Night in Bangkok” (Kristi on right)
On opening night, during our big dance number, “One Night in Bangkok,” I proved just how inadequate those measly stickers were. The choreography included an exuberant Indian war-dance step where we hopped on one leg and punched one arm in the air. Of course in all the opening night excitement I gave an extra-high-energy punch, which was too much for the slippery floor. The resulting unfortunate occurrence I witnessed in slow motion like a movie special effect: leg sliiiiiiiiiiips out from under meeeeeeee, faaaaaaaaaallll baaaaaackwaaaaaaaards onto elbooooooows, leeeeeeegs appear in front of faaaaaaaace and over heeeeeeaaaaaad, skirt of very short dreeeessss in eyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeees. The spill seemed to last an eternity as each detail was etched into my brain. In reality, it all happened in a fraction of a second. In an instant, I resumed the pow-wow with the rest of the cast. Like a shot, I popped back up and punched and hopped, punched and hopped.
The humiliating experience reminded me of those Olympic ice skaters who, in a failed attempt to do some gravity-defying quadruple-turn jump, instead land smack on their bellies, sprawled all over the ice, legs spread-eagled. A couple seconds later they are back skating with smiles on their faces as if nothing happened. Let me tell you, it’s embarrassing. And, after the initial shock and embarrassment wear off, it hurts, too.
Kristi’s Law: Your biggest mistakes and mishaps will happen when you have the most important people in the audience. Of course, my catastrophic collapse had to happen the night my entire family had flown in to see my performance. “You bounced back very quickly,” Mom said reassuringly. But I was still horrified, and with my (literally) bruised tail between my legs, I finally mustered up enough courage to confront the director before he beat me to the punch. “So, how about my accident in ‘One Night in Bangkok’?” I asked, dreading his response. “What accident? I didn’t see anything,” Mr. Rocco replied casually. Maybe it wasn’t the tragedy I made it out to be. Sometimes it’s better not to be noticed.
Had I had the proper rubber on my shoes to begin with, the disaster probably would never have happened. It wasn’t until our Equity female lead fell during the show and ended up with a bloody knee that stage management did something to rectify the situation. They mopped the floor in Coca-Cola to make it stickier, and I was given permission to get my shoes properly rubbered by a shoe cobbler under wardrobe’s threat that “nothing had better happen to those shoes.” Thankfully, nothing did happen, and I finished the remaining shows on my feet.
Slippage aside, I enjoyed this “game show,” which was made even more interesting by playing some games of my own. In particular, one of our highly intelligent male dancers and I tried to finish a crossword puzzle by the end of each show. After each of our numbers, we would race downstairs to the dressing rooms as quickly as possible, change into our next costumes, and rush to rendezvous at my dressing table so we could figure out what to write for seventeen down. “Hurry! What’s an eight-letter word meaning ‘puffed out; full’?” “Um, um, um…bouffant?” “Yes! It fits!” “We gotta go, that’s our cue!” Then we’d run up the stairs just in time to make our entrance. Perhaps this wasn’t the best way to stay focused on the show, but it definitely helped the night go by faster.
Bounce some new ideas off a good friend. Bounce off the walls if you need to release some anger or frustration. 
But whatever you do, keep right on bouncing back. Before you know it, you’ll be at the top of your game. Your dreams are a game worth playing. Thanks for reading.
Bounce back on track,
Kristi
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