Apr 9, 2018 3 min read

A few days ago, I read about the closing of the Pittsburgh Playhouse in Oakland. I don’t normally wax philosophical about a building, but I have some very fond memories of this historic locale. I’ve seen Greek tragedies, classic comedies, drag queens and German soldiers in that theater.

I also have one unpleasant memory.

In high school, my English literature teacher, Mr. William Weprich, took our class to see William Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night.” I apologize if you think there are too many Williams in this story, but facts are facts.

I loved the play. It’s about Viola, who has to dress up like her brother Sebastian, call herself Cesario and hide in Countess Olivia’s court. Women dressing as men struck me as very funny. Not as hilarious as it is when it’s the other way around, but humorous nonetheless (see earlier drag queen reference).

“Twelfth Night” reminded me of “Three’s Company.” I wasn’t very sophisticated back then.

There was a drunken character called Sir Toby Belch in the play, and his name made me laugh. Clearly, a small cherry yogurt had more culture than I did, but the Bard wrote plays to entertain both highbrows and lowbrows alike.

Here’s the thing: I laughed so hard at the play, I got a terrible case of the hiccups.

Note: I’ll be using the term hiccup and not the archaic hiccough. I also hate the term “draught beer.” It looks too much like drought and not enough like draft. By the way, draught makes me think of drought, which makes me think of Tom Joad and the “Grapes of Wrath.” It’s a vicious cycle of word association.

But I digress, like I do.

At one point, Viola is swooning over Duke Orsino, who is unaware he is a she. I hiccuped so loudly it reverberated throughout the theater. It was like someone popped a hand grenade in my abdomen. It was a sonic boom of a hiccup. On stage, the actors paused, and looked out into the audience. The entire cast of the play stopped to stare at me. It was the longest five seconds of my entire life. It was all, “If music be the food of love …” Pause. Pause. Pause. Pause. “… play on!”

Rows of my classmates turned to gawk at me. I got an unexpected scowl from my favorite teacher. I remember sliding down in my seat, crouching from the audience’s wrath. If I could have fit under the seat, I would have hidden myself there.

When a stage full of actors and rows and rows of audience members all turn and grimace at you, your hiccups are miraculously cured. It was the scare I needed. I was red-faced the rest of the play. It was an awkward bus ride back to school.

Still, I’m going to miss the Pittsburgh Playhouse. Point Park is building a brand new theater downtown. I promise to try to keep all my bodily functions to myself in the new space.