Well, I have to say the little improv shew went veddy well. Our semi-recently formed comedy troupe was pumped even before the moment the crowd started humming the theme to Rocky (due to the fact that a circuit got overloaded and blew out our sound system seconds before show time).
Everyone had their chance to shine, like Ben accusing his girlfriend of knitting him a gift he didn't like ("You know I don't wear shoes like that!"). Or when Matt started a scene about a clown hired to entertain at a wake with a big-top goofy, hilariously sing-songy, "Sorry about your loss!" My favorite line of my own (if you'll indulge me) was when I ended a couple-stuck-on-a-rollercoaster-ride scene with the line, "But it says do not remove under penalty of law!" Like most improv moments, you had to be there.
But if you would have been there, you would've been with 80(!) kind fans made up of friends and family who were rooting us on. Some balanced their behinds on pillows and some had to stand the whole hour since we were short on chairs. This, my friends, was an audience that gave as much as the people on-stage.
As for my fears of pulling a Cindy Brady? Luckily, those were unfounded. Curiously, my usual public speaking-type nerves (feverish flashes and gurgling G.I. tract) weren't in appearance. Oh, sure, I had to urinate on a half-hourly basis, but always being the consummate professional, I made a point of leaving the stage before relieving myself.
My adrenaline was strangely focused in propelling me forward through each pregnant pause. My aura was gigantic, thanks to the pre-show breathing exercises Sandeep lead us through. Yes, whether I was under the spotlights or hanging back to watch others shine, I had a complete and utter blast. And yes, in the time it would take you to spell trichinosis, I've become a grade-A ham.