Guest blog by Jaimelyn Gray

Ah, theatre. The land of smiles, anger, kissing, touching, and…

GERMS!!!

How is it in the cold and flu season that we actors, directors, and technicians manage to stay healthy among all the cavorting? Vitamins? Theraflu? Vodka with a whiskey chaser? Who the hell knows really. More than one of my fellow castmates in The Wedding has fallen ill as of late. But last night it seemed to reach a climax: a fellow actor moved around during our run while the assistant director read his lines because said actor lost his voice. And was running a fever to boot.

Swine flu anyone? Pass me the side of bedrest!

But what is one to do when we open in two weeks? The time for taking the night off is over. These last two weeks are the time when all the loose ends start tying together - when the show really becomes THE SHOW. The majority of our rehearsal time lately has been spent on timing things properly. Can you even imagine (as I am sure most of you can) how hard it is to figure out to timing when you are in the middle of a ventriloquist act? And right now, any of us are a target. I can only imagine all the stress and anxiety of the final weeks serve as a nice big amplifier to all that goop and gunk floating around in our systems. And then there you are, sitting next to that guy, the one who you "love," and you get close - because you neeeeeeeeeed to! - and there is his mouth (and you bet your sweet ass you are gonna kiss it), and then, ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Jaimelyn gets some much-needed bedrest.

Mmmmmmm yummy. Snot spray right on your right shoulder. But then, uh oh! Now what do I do? How many thousands of bacteria determined to get me sick are now on my Goodwill sweater? Those little invaders are just waiting to stop the show. They hate theatre. They hate everything it stands for. They hate catharsis. Know why? Because it makes you feel better! Bacteria hate that!

For reals, though, last night, there I was, being held back by my voiceless actor friend because I was attempting to claw The Wife's eyes out. When I looked down, as I always do, to try figure out a way to get out from his grip, the thought crosses my mind: um, how many times has he coughed into those hands? Now, believe me, I am no hypochondriac. I don't worry about germs on the door handle. I don't think twice about sharing a straw. And I certainly don't hover. But there I was, being clenched by the Voiceless One, thinking, "Jaimelyn, your brazen attitude toward sickness is gonna get you in trouble one of these days."

And that's why I used the Germ-X.