By Holi Raparaoelina
Originally published in the DoG Street Journal February 2020 issue.
While the editor in chief is currently out gallivanting about in Cardiff, Wales, I’ve been appointed to take on her position for this semester. I’m going to tell you all a story about something that happened over my winter break, one of the most fever-dream-like experiences I’ve ever had in my life, almost twilight-zone-esque in its peculiarity. So buckle in your seatbelts and make sure to keep your socks secured, because you’re in for a wild ride.
Allow me to set the scene. It is day four of Sinfonicron camp - aka the day of the Infamous Kilwins Raid. On this day, as per tradition every year, an innocent ice cream shop never fails to be ruthlessly raided by a rambunctious horde of rabid theater kids on the metaphorical crack cocaine. Arriving amidst the calm before the storm, donned in my very clever Pixar lamp costume (a lampshade with a flashlight attached to the top & the word lamp taped onto my T-shirt) I overhear one of the employees exclaim, “oh yeah, there’s a big group of people coming in tonight—wait... seventy of them?? Now I know why they called me in for an extra shift...” with a sharp glint of fear in her eyes.
It was too late. She’d already signed her fate over. Neither employee would be granted mercy.
Mere moments later, a group of kids with paper unicorn horns taped to their heads trickle in. Followed by another group of four purple monster creatures. In come the group dressed as the entire cast of the Cats movie. Next, the Guy Fieri crew. My personal favorite being the group (all thirteen of them) dressed as the Inside Out girl’s love interest repeatedly yelling “I would die for Riley” while crowding a twenty year old man dressed in said bright pink Riley (who is meant to be a tween girl) costume, the top barely fitting over his stomach. They continue to pile into the shop, and once at (or beyond?) full capacity, an unassuming group of friends walk in expecting the place to be near empty at such a late hour on a weekday, but behold. They were forced to migrate to the Baskin Robbins across the street.
The employees were practically held at gunpoint to judge the best costumes, and I am proud to announce my team won fourth place out of eleven groups with our last minute Pixarthemed idea. We got bonus points for my fantastic lamp stomping performance paired with the flashlight.
The premises were vacated not without yet another overly enthusiastic performance of “Mr. Mistoffelees” from the godforsaken movie, Cats, on behalf of the entire Sinfonicrew. Little did I know, there would be more where that came from during camp, not a single individual’s ears spared from Laurie Davidson’s (aka the Tuxedo Cat) hypnotic vocals, not to mention the 1700s sea shanties to be blasted on all speakers in Trinkle hall (which definitely did not flood at some point) throughout the week. Oh, to experience a day in a theater kid’s mind.