With every scar comes a story, and I think from the thousands that I have, this one comes in 2nd, for the most notable scar story.
So when Lucent Dossier was first starting out, we were a rag tag group of kids, with no rules, getting absolutely buck wild on stage. We tried to put in choreography here and there, but really, what we were best at, was just letting ourselves go and getting punk rock on the situation. So at the time, we were about to have one of our biggest LA shows to date, which was at the Music Box. The show? The very innocent but not so innocent Elf Show aka Enchantself. (I still get a smile in my heart thinking about that show. There's this humble and sweet nostalgia about it that really tugs on my Gepetto strings)
Anyhow, we built this cute show for the Music Box complete with choreography, tossing girls high in the air, tumbling, and aerial. A fair amount of intense physicality by anyone's standards, all of which should be well rehearsed and taken seriously...of course. But as I said, we were a lawless group of individuals who also had adult lives to take care of. Practicing protruding-butt elf walk drills or memorizing our little elf song in our made up jibber jabber didn't necessarily always make it at the top of the priority list. But we were professionals at play and a little cocky about it at the time. So yeah sure, let's do a whole bunch of things that we didn't really practice. I'm sure it'll be just fine...just remember spacial awareness!
So now meet Kara (not her real name). An incredibly sweet, talented, goddess-like pixie, with too much energy, and a willingness to be the star of the show. She kind of reminded me of one of those Youtube sensation kids schooling Nicki Minaj on video. You know the look, that incredibly blissed out look of confidence, with not a worry in the world. The kind of look you normally only see on children and dogs. Where they've never had to face judgement or self doubt, where there is only love love love and more love as they wistfully float through life on their pink cloud of cotton candy. Totally convinced that the world should love them as much as they love themselves, 'cause they're THE awesome! In many ways, this was Kara, though I wouldn't dare say she didn't face hardship before...she just had this rare quality about her that you don't normally see in adults.
Well here we are at the Music Box now, and it's time to do this show. With a baby and a business, Kara didn't have time to make it to all the rehearsals...plus, as I said before, she had that child like confidence and knew that she'd be a star no matter what. Well her need to shine as brightly as possible meant throwing in a tumbling routine, in the middle of the finale. Nowadays, that wouldn't fly at all, but at the time, she seemed set on this moment, and no one was going to take it away from her. It was her moment to be her biggest, and brightest self, where she would inevitably pop up from her pass, her rainbow array of ribbon knotted hair would rush past her face, only to accent her flower child smile, as she galloped to her next spot.
The began and we entered the stage, with our elf ears glued on, crazy make up airbrushed across our faces, and our little feather costumes on. The show started off quite well. The elves popped out from behind the mushrooms, only to discover the hobo and his mate in fisticuffs, until the giant unicorn on stilts entered and the whole village erupted with glee whilst 2 naughty elves were humping in the mushroom house. So far so good...now for the love triangle flamenco act before the finale. As we rounded the bend toward a successful show, and I am now in full protruding butt-elf walk, conga line dancing down the center of the stage, here Kara comes for her tumbling pass...wait what? NOW? That's not supposed to happen NOW!
 |
| Photo by Roger Fojas |
And SMACK! Kara's foot slammed itself straight into my face. I rebounded faster than a dropped Oreo in prison. Down for the count, but back in the game in a flash. Having trained in Pro Cheer competitions for years, and watching girls get their teeth knocked out on stage, or spraining an ankle and still finishing the routine in true Keri Strugg style, it was the moment I had been training for, for years. Keep going no matter what! You need that trophy!
So I continued. I didn't want to risk ruining the show. But now I feel it, a little bit of blood spilling into my mouth. No big deal! I've got to base this basket toss! I run over to my crew and see their faces for a flash, looking at me in the strangest fashion. Can't stop now, get our flier in! "1, 2 down up!" off she goes. We catch her and lock and load the second girl, "1, 2 down ...oh shit." At this point I realize that what I thought was just a little bit of blood was a whole lot of blood. Gushing out of my mouth and on to the floor. As the whole cast scrambles for the final pose, I run off stage, fearing that I'd have to be stuck, in front of the crowd in this elven tableau, looking like a crazy zombie who just ate a baby munchkin in the back.
So I ran straight from the stage to the side alley where the huge security guard gave me one look and said, "Girl, you need to go to the hospital."
Spitting out blood into the drain outside, I thought, nah...this guy is trippin'. I'm sure it's not that bad. Still not really knowing the extent of what it looked like, I could only judge the situation by reading the reactions of my cast members, who came out one by one.
First my boyfriend came out. He immediately threw his hands over his face, and horror had struck. But not in a way that you might imagine. To me, he looked like a Japanese warrior choking on a fish bone. Kind of a cross between these two guys. (I especially like the guy on the right)
Then came the others...I got a few looks like I just got caught pissing in the baptismal pool...concerned and horrified. Then there were the looks like I was one of the 2 chicks with one cup...disgust, shock, and strangely intrigued. Denying their requests to go to a hospital, all of this hullabaloo had become so intense that I just started cracking up, causing even more blood to sputter out of my mouth hole.
When I finally got over my laughing stint, I tried to explain to my cast what had happened. I opened my mouth and said, "Sthou thsou attsoh stuhtos." Damn...let me try that again. "Sthou whuh happeh whefff..." Damn. What the heck is going on? Why can't I talk? Is my lip just numb from the hit? As I looked into the eyes of my team, with their hands covering their faces, like papa was going to leave the ranch and never come back, I realized the extent of my situation. I couldn't talk because me teeth had sliced through my lip, came out the other end, and had gotten stuck there. Little did I know that, what I thought was just a little bit of blood was actually a lip flap, jostling around as I laughed, spraying blood drops everywhere. Oh shit... now this is a different story. Hospital it is.
Without taking another moment to sit around and figure it out, I immediately walked out of there in full costume to find the nearest hospital. Lucent still had another show to do, and I was determined not to inconvenience anyone, and to get back there by the second show. So I decided to high tail it to the nearest hospital.
Now in all my years of experimenting with different substances, I've never really had a high quite like this before. The mix of stage show adrenaline, and fight or flight instincts brought me to this strange place of focus and delusional euphoria. I couldn't have been chipper, walking down the sketchy streets of Hollywood barefoot, picking up used syringes between my toes and looking like the newest and baddest Jenny of the block. You don't want to mess with this little robin...she'll cut you.
After a good 45 minute stroll, I rounded the corner and found the hospital...a children's hospital at that. I walked my fairy ass straight thru the doors and past various, frightened little kids. Poor kids...Grimm's Fairy Tale was starting to look really grim then. As I approached the desk, the lady behind the counter looked straight at me and said. "Who's the patient? What's the problem?"
Are you serious? Uhhh...gee my invisible little girl accidentally swallowed a pretend hard candy. Do you seriously not see the blood dripping from my chin, and now you're going to ask who's the patient and what's the problem? I look like Grover got attacked by Edward from Twilight. With my lip still attached to my teeth, and a difficulty with speaking, I tried to use the age old form of sign language and Pictionary to get her to understand that I was indeed the patient and that I might have a problem with my mouth.
After a riveting game of charades, the lady finally took a look at me and said, "We can't help you here, you have to go to the hospital a few blocks down." Thanks for nothing lady. Fairly grumpy, I huffed my way out of there to find the next hospital, only to have the EXACT same thing happen.
"Who's the patient? What's the problem? Oh, you're going to have to go to the hospital a few blocks down." Are you serious? How could you possibly be so imperceptive as to not understand what the problem is...we are talking face to bloody flappy face!
Finally I arrive at the Emergency Sector a whole 2 hours later. By that time the adrenaline had worn off, and I was chasing the euphoria like one of those glowy butterflies on the Ambien commercials. But it was useless, the numbness had worn off and somebody anthraxed my happy place. Now I was just bitchy.
Woman at the Counter: "Who's the patient? What's the problem?"
Me: "Not again....Looooook at me! ARE YOU LOOKING? LOOOOK AT ME! Now....Now...Now, ..how 'bout now. CoooOOOOookie Crisp!"
Woman at the Counter: "I'm sorry ma'am. We can't help you here."
Me: "WHAT? You are the Emergency Room. What do you mean you can't help me."
Woman at the Counter: "We can't help you, looking like that."
Clearly the woman thought that I was a Sunset prostitute, who got into some trouble with smack and my pimp.
Me: "Listen to me. I am walking in there, and getting someone to sew my face up now."
And with that I stormed off and walked right past the double doors fuming with anger.
Security: "Ma'am Stop, STOP you can NOT go in there looking like that."
Me: "Looking like what?! Tell me! What do I look like to you? A binged out Elf who got kicked out the tree for cooking crack instead of cookies?"
Security: "Ma'am, you can NOT walk in here as indecent as you are. You got all your bits hanging out."
Me: What you've never seen anyone in their underwear before? Isn't this a hospital? Don't you have a gown? Give me a frickin' gown damn it!"
Now they knew I was serious. Within moments I had a gown, and was on the operating table with the doc looking down at me.
Doc: "Hmm...I don't know if I can fix this. You really want a plastic surgeon to handle this."
Me: "Come on doc, say it ain't so. You can do this, I know you can."
Doc: "I'm just not sure that I can sew it up and make you look the same."
Damn. Is this what's really happening? It had never occurred to me that my face might looked busted forever.
Me: "Listen here Doc. I believe in you, sister. From lady to lady, you know this is a big deal. Keep your eye on the prize and make me proud!"
Reluctantly, she said ok and proceeded to stitch me up. This is of course, after she gave me 2 shots directly into my wound. Grossly intrigued by this whole matter, I was insanely jealous that I was the only one in the room that couldn't watch the calamity of it all. So I stared intensely into the reflection of her glasses, watching each stitch get put in through her slightly fogged lenses. To this day I wonder if she ever noticed, and if she did, I wonder what she thought. That must have been so awkward to be up in someone's grill, with their face just a few inches away, and their gaze staring deep into your eyes...watching you. Once eyes get that close, you start to play that weird game, of which eye should you look at. Kind of an intimate moment between 2 strangers not having sex.
Well 16 stitches later, I congratulated the doc and made it back just in time for the second show. I didn't end up performing, and saw Kara icing her foot backstage. Apparently the force of my skull injured her poor little foot, and the pain deserved copious amounts of sympathy. She did send me a dozen "energetic roses" however. Yeah...I wasn't really too sure how to respond to that either. If they were "energetic roses" then fucking manifest me of field of them bitch! It didn't cost you a dime!
So there it is, the story behind Left Cleft and how she got to be so gangsta. All in all, I walked away learning a few valuable lessons from it all.
1. Don't get a massage on a massage table with a busted lip. Unless you want to look like you have a parasitic twin growing out of your face.
2. When being asked "What happened to your face." Do not respond with, "Donkey Porn." Most people do not find this funny.
3. Korean mothers will straight slap a bitch for ruining their daughter's face.
4. Korean mothers will straight slap you for ruining your own face.
5. Even with a split lip, there is no other way to eat a hard boiled egg than with lots and lots of Tabasco.
6. Oh yeah, and don't get stuck doing the elf conga when someone is hurtling their body towards your face.
 | |
| Photos by Roger Fojas |
