The wrong lap

As one of the things I do for a living, I play a slightly ditzy, blonde bombshell, Sandy Beach, in a murder mystery show in Toronto, Canada. We often do shows for corporate groups, and as I mingle before the murder, I’m trying to size up the guys in the crowd. Pick the right guy. The open-minded and friendly guy. The office favourite – that’s who I’m looking for – someone that everyone knows. Because I need to find the right lap.

With a corporate group, especially events where people bring guests, it’s sometimes a challenge to figure out who works for the company. Who’s a guest? What do they do? They have all just arrived and are sometimes reluctant to mingle with one another, much less this pink-sparkly-dressed-bunny-ear-wearing actress.

It’s a comedy/mystery and one of the bits I do is sitting on a man’s lap after I mistakenly think my boyfriend in the show is talking about me.

If I pick the wrong lap – perhaps a guy who no one knows, is new at the company, or is someone’s husband – it’s just awkward. He looks at me. I look at him briefly, then continue to watch the show from his lap until my cue to get up. And I feel bad for creating an awkward situation. Or his wife glares at me and doesn’t appreciate my current sitting position. I avoid her for the rest of the show, looking past her with fake confidence.
But the right lap – well, that’s a different story. If I sit on the president’s lap, or the shyest guy in the company and everyone knows he’s shy…that’s the lap that will garner a big laugh from the group. My sitting will have people in stitches. I’m satisfied that I’ve made them all laugh. I wait until my cue with him enjoying me sitting there and me enjoying being there. Plus, we’re pals for the rest of the night.