One of the most enjoyable aspects of my job is getting to cover the wonderful shows that come to our little town courtesy of our hard-workin’ arts council. That was certainly true last Tuesday night when I attended the delightful song-and-dance revue, &uot;Red, Hot…and Blue!&uot;

Being the &uot;Lifestyles Lady&uot; isn’t just a job – it’s an adventure.

Part of what makes, and keeps, the job interesting is the fact you never know what, or who, you might encounter along the way.

Still, I didn’t quite expect what happened last Tuesday night at the Ritz.

Please understand, as far as the cast was concerned, I was just another lady out there in the audience. None of them had met me yet.

So, I was a little startled when a dancer named Josh, in the guise of Biff, one ultra-peppy cheerleader, came running up behind me during the 50s segment of the show and began gabbing to me about his excitement over winning a shiny new ’57 Chevy.

Of course, it was all part of the show – I’d already seen several incidences of audience participation – so I took my reading glasses, smiled sweetly and said, &uot;Oh, how wonderful for you!&uot; And back he dashed on stage.

I figured that was the end of my moment in the spotlight.

Au contraire. (I had forgotten about the convenience of my aisle seat near the front of the theater.)

Pretty soon we had moved on to the decade of the 60s and that hit tongue-twister song, &uot;The Name Game.&uot;

Next thing you know, Chris S. Tucker, performer/manager of the show, was bounding up to me and asking me my name. &uot;Take my hand, Angie,&uot; he said. Soon it was &uot;Angie-Angie-bo-bangie…&uot;(you know how it goes, I bet). Suddenly, I found myself with this cute guy in hippie regalia, just twisting and sliding – right down into my lap.

O.K. When you’re a somewhat conservative, middle-aged married lady, with your mother AND your husband sitting just to your right, and you’ve got this handsome blue-eyed fellow right getting cozy…what do you do?

Why, you give him a nice, friendly hug, of course. My mama always did teach me to be hospitable.

It turned out &uot;The decade of love&uot; was far from over. &uot;Twist and Shout&uot; was soon pounding through the speakers.

Cute young Josh headed my way once more (looking a lot like Roger Daltrey in his &uot;Who&uot; heyday) and he asked me to &uot;come on and dance with me.&uot;

I always did have a weakness for those wild blonde curls of Roger’s.

So, I twisted. I frugged. I even did the little eye-hand motions from the &uot;Pulp Fiction&uot; dance.

Here’s what I've learned:

It’s so important to be a good sport.

Maybe blondes DO have more fun.

It’s not just a job…

Angie Long is a Lifestyles writer and columnist for The Greenville Advocate. She may be contacted at home by phone at 382-5145.