On the subject of "Urban Legends" and other impressions.

There I was, just happily surfing through Facebook, when that wonderful red dot appears in the lower right hand corner of my screen. "_______has commented on a photo of you."

I click on the photo and one of my friends makes a pretty funny remark about a picture in a friends album. However, the remark itself could be taken by my less "understanding" friends as very offensive, and by my conservative friends as "oh my god, has Jon gone to the other team?"

Thank God, I am not Miss California.

Here's the story. As most of you know, I take improv classes very seriously. This past week's class, called "Attack" was about going to extremes to get your scene to go to a totally higher level.

The day before in class I was not attacking at all. As a matter of fact, I was like a sheepish puppy. I was having an awful day and it showed in my work. So as I entered day two of the class, I had decided that no one was going to out do me in class. I even stated in my Facebook status:
Jon went to Attack armed with a water pistol. Tomorrow, dammit, I go in with a fricking Howitzer. Watch out, class!

Day two was going much better. Halfway through the class, there was a moment where our instructor took a picture of two of the improvisers in a position, that out of context, could be taken in many ways. The point of the instruction was that the closer one gets in proximity to the scene partner, the more powerful the scene can become. So instead of two people standing two feet away, we were practically talking into the nose hairs and ear hairs of our partners. So when our instructor snapped the first picture, you might have thought they were about to kiss.

Smart alec me said "---- has just tagged you in a photo," which drew huge laughs from the class. So our instructor, hoping to help us, snapped away.

We moved to a game called interrogation. The object of the game is to make the person being "interrogated" laugh or they would have to divulge a secret to the class. We paired off and each of us used our own tactics.

Jim and I were paired up and I volunteered to go first as the "suspect." Jim could not break me. I used to watch a show called Make Me Laugh back in the '80's. The object of the show was the longer you didn't laugh with comedians shouting jokes in your ear, the more money you win. I would have taken home the grand prize.

Jim tried everything, including taking my finger and threatening to pick his nose with it. I said, "go ahead, brother!" It broke him.

When it came time for me to question Jim, I knew I had a tactic that always drives my wife nuts, in the wrong way. I was going to fog up his glasses by coming in and acting like I was going to whisper in his ear. I never got to the fog as the first statement out of my mouth was "ear hair," which got him to laugh and break.

After the exercise, our instructor asked if anyone broke, which most people raised their hand. Then he asked who did not break, and only a couple of us raised then. He then asked, does anyone think they can't be broken. Without hesitation, I strode up to the chair and plopped down with a badass look none of those people had ever seen in me. When I took my glasses off, there was an audible ooooh in the room. This was a showdown.

To understand what I was feeling, you would have to go back a week earlier when I was in rehearsal for my own Breakout group. I was doing this same kind of "interrogation scene" when I decided to play it very sheepishly. Our director took me by the cheeks and looked right into my eyes and said "you are 6-4... you are a big man... don't you ever, ever be ashamed of that fact. Be proud of who you are."

She was right. Most of the time I have been on stage, I have played kids or shy people, all in spite of my gregarious personality and undeniable size.

So with Mandy's voice in my head... the challenge was on. The instructor began, and I think a little to his surprise, I fought back with comments of my own. He tried many techniques, but nothing seemed to be working. We got into some very inappropriate banter about Mothers and such, and went very NC-17 (it was a class, I had no problem with that in a class.) The duel continued for minutes... only to have me break when he look exhausted and made a very funny pun saying that it made him feel "__________angry."

I felt like a million bucks. I stood up and was big!

Then, the instructor said, "does anyone think they can break me?" I was being nice and waiting to give my classmates a chance. I was actually a little warn out from the previous scene. No one would raise their hand, so I said... "you're on!"

Doug sat there as I circumvented the chair. Then I struck suddenly, using the same talking close tactic I had used on Jim earlier. I think he was a little caught by surprise. Doug has been my teacher for quite a while and was not used to this aggressive me.

Here is the Urban legend story. I continued to question him getting closer and closer to him. He leaned to the right and I followed him. He leaned to the left so low that I decided to just hit the floor and wait for him to drop. He raised himself up and slipped down in his chair so low that his shoulders were now on the chair and his body created a bench like shape.

This is where the Urban Legend kicks in. I said "so, that's how you are going to play it." Seeing that he was, in essense, a bench. I decided to sit on his chest, trying not to hurt him. The angle of the class however did not see that I was sitting on his chest, but rather... how should I say it... higher.

So the stories began, and apparently had gotten to a very big urban legend status by the time he had his next class, when one of the class asked if I really had "sat higher." That was not the term he used, but ew... I still hate the term he used. Anyway, I was told the class went into somewhat of a tizzy when one classmember said "well, who hasn't he done that to."

Now remember, one week earlier, I was playing shy roles and trying to be unassuming, now people were giving me a whole other reputation. To the instructors credit, he played down the story, laughing at the same time.

That night, I went onto Facebook and there was the notification of someone making a comment on a photo of me. They told the urban legend story, to which I responded with a gasp and EWWW! I then said I needed to take a shower. I wrote back that there was some "splainin to do."

This led to a response that used that "word" again, followed by a cleaned up version only using the first syllable - "tea."

My friend, realizing that I was not comfortable with my new reputation told from the urban legend took the comments down. She's my friend.

So, why do I bring it up again. I love Facebook. I love the way it keeps you in touch with friends, but as you all know, I have friends from all walks of life. From theater types to jocks, from liberals to ultra conservatives. And now, from people who knew me as a sports loving television obsessed guy to the one who loves improv and the theatre now. There have been many different me's, but everyone knows a different part of me.

If anyone happened to see that particular comment, some might have been offended... others ultra-suprised that something like that would be said about me.

The legend is something nasty. The reality is something that never had any intention to be. 430 of the 452 friends I have on Facebook would know that, but you never know what someone might decide to take and put in their pocket to use somewhere down the road.

Case in point... last weekend's Karaoke event. I had full intentions when the concept began of doing Amy Winehouse in a full Amy Winehouse get up. I had the wig (which was borrowed and beautifully worn by Megan in the competition.) I was thinking of what else I could do... then my wife said to me, "in this day of Facebook and YouTube, you don't want to take any chances." She was right, so I went with a plan B.

So now, the record is clear, and the story is told, so that there won't be any misunderstanding of what happened. The urban legend might stay, but my heart is clear. And for those who made comments... no harm done. And, to the one who was looking out for me to let me know the legend had made it's way around, thank you! I don't want to become Amy Winehouse!

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger