Maybe junior year in high school my friend won a bunch of tickets to The Rocky Horror Picture Show theater show. She invited a group of friends and insisted that we all dress up, “It’s better to go in costume.” Was about as specific as she got.
The gals came over to my house since we had a costume collection that spanned decades and the two most tolerant parents in the school district.
“Wear that!” my friends encouraged. I am the youngest in my family I am easily swayed.
We got to the theater and they started frisking us.
“You have any toast on you? What about rice? No throwing rice! They’re real people you know…hey, is that a water pistol? No water pistols….”
“What is this all about?” I asked my friend.
“Oh, people throw things at the stage at certain times in the show.”
“Ohhh” I started when a man interrupted me.
“Hey! You and your friends get over here, we’re taking pictures….”
We allowed ourselves to be herded over there and photographs were taken. They must’ve thought they were good pictures because the next day my father called me in to his study.
“The theatre show you went to last night, Mary, what type of show was it exactly?”
“Some show that one of the field hockey girls got free tickets for.”
“Yeah, it was okay….”
“Mary – can you please explain this picture of you, in the paper, with your name spelled incorrectly?”
“It’s a tough name to spell –no one ever gets it right!”
“Mary! Did you see what you were wearing?!”
“B-r-z-u-s-C-o-w-i-c-Z! They sure didn’t spell the name right!”
I tucked the paper away in a box only to find it on its’ anniversary. Welcome to my time warp – properly spelled.