For the last three weeks, I’ve been performing in a community theatre production. As is traditional among the gentlemen of this theatre company, we gather in our dressing room just before showtime for “warmups,” as we call them. This is generally a small drink to the night’s show–not much, never more than half an ounce–but we toast each other to a good show and strong voices in key (we do musicals). Among our group, though, are a few Mormons and a few teenagers, neither of whom drink alcohol. They participate in our toast though, usually with soda pop.
We take turns supplying the night’s libation, and so one guy brought single-malt Scotch one night, one brought tequila (and salt and limes) one night, one brought gin another night, and so on. Mixers and condiments are expected, if the concoction calls for them–for example, on G&T night, the designated man brought both the gin and the tonic. Another night, the snacks in the green room included a pickle platter, so we “liberated” some olives, and the following night was martini night, complete with olives for the drinks.
Last Saturday was the final night of the current show, and the designated man–I’ll call him “Jack”–told us all ahead of time he would be bringing champagne. And he did–but he also brought non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice for the Mormons and the teens, so they no longer had to use soda pop. And they happily joined with the rest of us, raising a glass of something like the rest of us had, to the success of the night.
I thought it was a nice touch, and very thoughtful. Well done, Jack!