Free Year of the Queen: The Making of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - The Musical by Jeremy Stanford

a teenager, is a fellow veteran and someone I’ve worked with many times before. She gives me a wry grin as we privately celebrate still being around. I plant one on her beautiful cheek.
    Lena Cruz is swinging off the handrail leading to stage door. As if I’m an old friend she barrels up to me grinning cheekily and shakes my hand. She’s Filipino and she laughs hard as she says I don’t need to guess who she’s playing. She’s of course playing Bob’s ping-pong ball popping wife.
    Smoking, and standing away from the group is Daniel Scott, the boy plucked from the ensemble of Dusty to play the ‘Guy Pearce’ roll of Adam/Felicia. I can instantly see why he’s here. He’s got star written all over him. He looks like a young Marcus Graham and has an easy charm about him. I approach and introduce myself. He is confident and direct but betrays a sensitive shyness. He laughs easily as if the nerves have got the better of him today. I can see him slipping effortlessly into being the rock star of the show. The one they’ll squeal for. I’m relieved to find him instantly likable, since we have such a long journey to travel together.
    We head up in the lift to dump our bags and I bump into Simon. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the auditions and I clamp him in a long, grateful embrace. The euphoria of the day seems even to have caught him off guard and he looks nervous and edgy with the mountain we all have to climb before October.
    Outside is the huge silver bus I saw at Channel Seven. Carl wrangles us aboard, with strict instructions as to which order we’ll be getting off in. Our short trip will take us around to the other side of the casino where the press has assembled. We’re garnished with pink feather boas, which wilt and stain our clothes. The heat is sweltering inside the bus and we all misbehave like school kids on an excursion.
    The bus cranks its way up the hill towards the press call. They certainly didn’t blow the budget on this old girl and I’m slightly worried we won’t actually make the distance. As we arrive, Frosty is in mid pitch. The size of the crowd takes my breath away. There’s got to be a hundred people here. There’s a collective gasp and applause as the bus lumbers towards them. We stop and remain on board waiting to be introduced.
    Simon’s first out and he leaps off the bus like a game show host to make an uncharacteristically tense speech. He then he introduces the academy award winners, and Tim and Lizzy who step out to generous applause. Then it’s Tony’s turn. Again a roar. I start to sweat as my name is about to be announced. God, I hope there’s not a deathly silence. I step down from the bus, making sure I don’t trip over.
    Once the cast have all been introduced, Tony, Daniel and I are given bottles of champagne to christen the bus with. This clearly hasn’t been thought through properly. The press surge forward to within inches of us and suddenly I realize that I’m going first. I hold the bottle like a baseball bat and make a couple of comical practice swings. Then I make contact. There’s a hideous metallic ‘Dong’ as I connect with the bumper bar, but no breakage. Like a Buddhist call to prayer, the ‘Dong’ has awoken me to the reality that without a shadow of a doubt, when this bottle breaks, it’s going to shower all those around it with speeding fragments of broken glass. It’s going to be ugly. I take a deep gulp. Will this be the story of the press call? ‘Photographers blinded by shattered glass!’
    Not having any options with the eager press poised for a photo opportunity, I squeeze my eyes shut and swing the bottle really, really hard. This time the bottle explodes exactly as prophesied. Glass sprays outwards. There’s a gasp from the crowd, my pristine suit pants cop a spray of champagne and God knows where the rest of the deluge has ended up. I look up sheepishly to the crowd, shrugging off the embarrassment of just having doused