My Night with Dudley

I recently went back to Minneapolis for a visit and returned to my old stomping ground, Dudley Riggs' Brave New Workshop. I spent many years of my twenties and early thirties there, treading the boards -- or whatever that phrase is...walking the boards? Treading the planks? Whatever. It was my improv home for many a year.

It was loverly to be back. It was opening night of their "best of" show: Attack of the Best of the BNW. It was a very funny show. I laughed. I also felt old. Everyone their was so young...blahblahblah. I'm old.

The founder Dudley Riggs was also there. It was great to see the bow-tied legend again. After catching up and chatting during intermission, I excused myself to use the restroom, turned around and felt a hand brush up against my arse. Did someone just cop a feel?

I turned around to find Dudley still there. I smiled and said, "Dudley, did you just touch my bottom?"

Full stop.

Okay, first of all: who says bottom? Seriously, who says "bottom"? He's not 3 years old! Second of all: I said it almost British-like: Bot-tom. Deed you tach mye Bot-tom Dud-lay? Third of all... WHO SAYS BOTTOM?

Dudley awkwardly admitted to the accidental contact, clearly embarrassed for being called out unnecessarily, or maybe embarrassed because he is a married man in his eighties being accused of sexual harassment, or maybe because any normal person would have let it slide and not said a word about the incidental contact, or maybe because I accused a grown man of touching my BOTTOM!

Who's says bottom?

That's what you get when you return to your past...an ass grab from an icon.