Oh, What a Knight: Part I: Fowl play: Terns out toucan direct if they coop-erate. They just can't wing it.

I swear...this time I really WAS minding my own business. 

Show business, that is.

Our renowned elementary school director, Bev, had retired. The woman had wrestled a two-story version of Pride Rock onto the stage as part of her swan song, for Pete's sake. 

Her esteemed apprentice was waiting in the wings, ready to take flight, when she got sidelined by the stork.

So naturally (after asking EVERYONE in the school who wisely said NO!), my administrator asked me to take on the coveted role of director for this year's play. I thought she was cuckoo. I laughed. Adamantly refused. Walked away...free as a bird.

She struck again when I was at my weakest. 

Game night at Geri's. A few adult beverages...vulnerable and embarrassed because this was an environment where I was exposed as an utter idiot in whatever game we were playing. My boss teamed up with our famed director as they painted a dismal portrait of an elementary world without theater. Trust me, there is PLENTY of drama in the 4th grade without it having to be staged. They strategically targeted my savior complex. The narcissist prevailed. I exited, stage left, out the door and into the darkness. Before I'd gotten to my truck, Bev intervened one last time. Spot-lighted by passing traffic, she delivered a Shakespearean soliloquy of epic proportions. Applying to my ego, attempting to elicit my empathy (That's a hard sell), encouraging me, and then, finally, extorting me. 

I said I'd think about it.

Turns out, unbeknownst to me, my friend Erin had been undergoing a similar shake-down process.

"I'll do it if you do it," I said, begrudgingly, the next day.

"I'll do it if you do it," she sighed with resignation.

"Do you know anything about directing a play of this magnitude?" I asked hopefully.

"No," Erin answered. "We're going to have to fly by the seat of our pants."