As Told to Tsirel Pacht

The audience is grumbling. The announcement to be seated came five minutes ago, and the lights have not yet begun to dim. So far, no explanation has come, so they continue to wait.
The play director is becoming impatient. “Intermission is over,” she says into her radio. “It’s time to turn off the lights!” She cannot wait for a reply as she rushes off to check on the props backstage.
A member of the lighting crew sits above the room in the lighting booth, oblivious to what is expected of her. She has no radio, and her partner has not yet returned with hers.
Among the hundreds of women and girls present in the audience, only one person is aware of what is happening. And that person is me.
At the start of intermission, I took my radio and headset into the auditorium to visit my family in the audience. When I realized that intermission would soon end, I headed to the staircase which led up to the lighting booth. When I reached the door to the stairs I found that it was closed. Not only that, but it was locked, and we did not have the key.
As I tried to plan a course of action, I heard the voice in my headset: “Please dim the lights!”
“I can’t,” I replied, “I’m locked out of the lighting booth and trying to figure out a way in.” There was no answer.
I knew that the door would only open from the inside, and my partner, Shira, was still upstairs. However, I could not speak to her, since she had no radio and I had no phone. I considered waving at her from the auditorium and somehow indicating that she should come down. That was risky, because if she came down before I got back to the door, it would lock behind her and we would both be locked out!
I squeezed through the crowd, hoping to see someone who might have Shira’s phone number and would lend me their phone. I spotted her grandmother, and slowly made my way over. She was on the phone, and it was very complicated to explain what I needed.
Meanwhile, some of the audience was sitting, while most were still ignoring the announcements. The only way to continue the show would be to turn the lights off as soon as possible. Every few seconds I looked up at the window to the lighting booth to see if Shira was looking in my direction. Suddenly, she looked down and I waved frantically.
She could not understand what I wanted, but I just kept waving. Finally, she stepped back from the window, and I hoped that she was going to open the door. The only thing left to do was to rush back through all the people and reach the door before Shira got locked out as well!
(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 740)