As I skated on my stomach across stage in a giant green costume, I heard whispers, laughs, and cheers in the audience. Though I could barely see or breathe, being the crocodile in the production of “Peter Pan,” was an experience that I would not trade for anything.
At callbacks, Mrs. Brueggemann asked specifically if there was anyone who would want to spend the entire show crawling across the stage on a skateboard. It sounded exciting to me, so I volunteered. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
With just a week until the opening night, my costume finally arrived. I was thrilled, until I stepped into it. I had been warned that it was tailored for someone approximately 6 feet tall and 250 pounds. Needless to say, it was a little large for my 5-foot-6–inch, 120-pound body. I felt overwhelmed, but I was willing to take on the challenge.
At first I found it hard to pull myself across stage with feet that had no grip and a skateboard that didn’t skate straight, but Mrs. Brueggemann was determined to make it work.
She had someone attach little rubber pads to the bottom of the costume’s feet to keep me from sliding across the stage. Then, she taught me how to properly lie on the skateboard without falling off. I ended up taking the skateboard home to spend hours practicing around my house.
After I figured out how to maneuver across stage like an actual crocodile, I had to bear the heat of the costume. At first when I slid myself into my green fuzzy pants, I could dance around for hours without getting hot. I then zipped up the big green-and-yellow body with a tail attached, and I was still totally comfortable. It was also fun to dance around in.
Next were the feet, which were 10 sizes too big. Once I got them on, I could never actually lift them off the ground due to the fear that they would fall right off. Instead, I had to slide and occasionally trip in order to move.
The next piece was the hottest but best looking part of the whole costume: the head. Though it was light as a feather, its main purpose in life was to disrupt my vision and keep me from breathing properly. When lying flat, I could only see a small patch of ground in front of me. I soon learned that when I bounced up and down the costume’s mouth opened and closed, which caused an uproar of laughter from my cast mates.
The hands were the final piece of the costume. I had someone slide them on and bring my skateboard to me in the wing backstage. There, I would wait anxiously as my heart pounded.
Every night before going on stage, I prayed that I’d make it across without falling into the pit. When I heard the ticking noise from the pit to cue me in, I would slowly pull myself out of the wing. As I did so, the audience came to life, enjoying the fact that a giant green monster was chasing characters off stage. I wagged my butt and trailed my tail behind me as I scurried from one end of the stage to the other.
After the show, friends and family approached me telling me how great they thought I was, but the only thing that kept me going every night was the laughs that I heard coming from directors Mrs. Brueggemann and Mr. Hensley. They swore that my attractive, fuzzy green sweat-trap of a costume and I stole the show.
Marzullo can be reached for comment at [email protected].