Reaching a split-end making a "hair"-larious video

This particular dream began where ALL of the best dreams begin...at a professional development conference. There we were...all stuffed uncomfortably at long tables in the middle school gym (because everyone knows the acoustics in a gym are KILLER)...I had already been re-soundly threatened..."Amy, kindly keep your opinions, observations, and questions to yourself," my friend Geri hissed in my ear as our speaker, Ricky, introduced himself. He looked like Jesus. I was enthralled but determined to be good.

As an ice-breaker, Ricky asked for some educationally-based antidotes. Silence descended over the gym as Geri kept her eyes firmly on me. Blame it on the hormones but suddenly, our very pregnant friend Alicia spoke up. We all turned to stare at her. "I'm sure Amy has something interesting to share," she said. Everyone turned to stare at me. I glanced at Geri helplessly until, with a magnanimous wave, she permitted me to speak. Forget about the ice...the whole darn dam was broken. Ricky soon realized where his problem areas were located...Dave in the far left corner...Tim, a stone's throw from me...Tyler in the center...and me...busy sending inappropriate notes to Erin with a subtle "Pssst" to the line of Passenger Pigeons who dutifully carried these contraband messages to and fro. But then...from far out in right field...an unexpected answer surprised us all. Chaos ensued and a dream was born.

The topic was self-care. We were all trying to keep a straight face and remain professional. "What do you do to get your mind off of work?" Ricky asked, striding between the tables. A long hair dangled from his elbow and I immediately became fixated. No one spoke. I couldn't speak because (a) Geri was glaring at me and (b) I was busy devising a plan to remove the errant hair with a pretty spectacular sleight-of-hand maneuver. Out of the silence, finally, a quiet voice spoke.  Ricky and his hair rushed over with the microphone. "I fix snowblowers," our quiet colleague admitted with the sincerity of a man at a 12-Step meeting. Ricky wasn't quite sure what to do with this information but quickly added this activity to his list which included manicures and spending time on social media. Ricky was almost within reach...that stray hair signalling to me like a siren's call. He'd never even know, I thought to myself, confident of my yet-to-be-tried pick-pocketing skills. I'd be doing him a favor, I rationalized, surely others have become as distracted as me by his elbow hair. I was suddenly reminded of a story in the bible where an afflicted woman, confident that she could be healed, reached out and touched Jesus's robe. With His super-spidey-Savior senses, Jesus stopped and had a few choice words with her. Hmmm. Maybe I should follow Jesus's instructions to keep thine hands to thine-self. Oh my goodness! Was Jesus the first proponent of self-distancing?!?! And then Tim raised his hand. We were thrilled. Administration inwardly groaned. "What do you do to take your mind off of work?" Ricky asked, thrusting the microphone at our already grinning guy, "Zuuum-bah!!" Tim told him, tipping me a wink as he tossed out my most-dreaded activity. Ricky (and his hair) ran with it. Zumba suddenly evolved into a flash-Zumba mob and...as I already said...we had a wild hair..and a dream was born.

Coordinated with my Zumba instructor, Felicia, we bullied, beguiled, and tricked our friends into making a Zumba Flash Mob video with us. Centered around Tim (who couldn't have been happier), we methodically put into practice all that we had learned at our professional development conference. Demonstrating a stunt of hair-raising proportions, Felicia balanced gracefully on a folding auditorium chair as she first taught, and then taped, school staff dancing on stage following a faculty meeting. Not wanting to split hairs, we nonetheless taped and then re-taped our hallway scene...imagining we looked like the Dirty Dancing crew, swaying and snapping our fingers as we snaked our way down the center aisle during the end-of-the-season talent show. We coaxed chemistry teachers and asked administrative assistants to play a role. At first they just told us to please get out of their hair...but eventually, they got on board.

Time was running out. Ricky would return later in March and we were a hair's breadth from post production. But then it all just slipped from our fingers. It was enough to give you gray hairs. A pandemic? Who on earth would have predicted that our dream would be dashed by a global viral outbreak? Procrastination? Yeah. Laziness? Possibly. Apathy? Undoubtedly. But that circumstances beyond our control conspired to upstage our shot at stardom?!? Unthinkable!

Turns out, my bullying skills work just as well over text and by phone as they do in person. Unable to escape...as we were all lawfully required to self-quarantine at home...my friend Aaron, plagued by some forty or so phone calls, managed to piece together a million video segments, trimming where necessary, attaching some extensions, and voilà, we had a masterpiece that set our audience of twelve people buzzing! Ricky would have been so impressed. Now, unfortunately, his only take-away from our professional development conference might be the insane woman who approached him during a break to unceremoniously pluck a hair from his elbow, told him "You're welcome," and disappeared to get a donut. 

Well, the video is done. And, God willing, hopefully this pandemic will also soon be done. And, as I conclude this blog submission at 1:18 in the morning because I'm no longer sleeping as a general rule, I will say the one thing that I've said all along at the end of each blotched film segment:  CUT!!!