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A throwaway postshow Polaroid, onstage... featuring (l to r) Me (Gaston) , Rochelle Smith (Belle), random child #64, and Jon Reinhold (the very capable understudy mentioned before as the post-transformation Prince)...
I post this because of a story from last night. See, the three of us often pose for pictures (raising money for charity) that are set up in a very organized way after the show. Last night during our photos, a very excited little boy came up to see "Gaston" and threw his arms around my legs in a big hug. I lifted him up to my shoulder for his photo. We went on with the photos, and a bit later Rochelle pointed out he was trying to get my attention from the house, saying "Gaston!" then turning away to his grandmother (?) or sister in embarrassment. Once everyone else who'd arranged to have their photo taken was done, I went to downstage to see what he wanted. It took some coaxing, but he was convinced to approach the stage. In a very matter of fact and apologetic tone he said, and I remember this very vividly...
Boy: "Gaston... I'm a indian."
Me: "...That's cool, buddy."
Boy: "I mean, a different kind."
Me: "Oh yeah, what kind?"
Boy: "I don't want to talk about it."
Boy's Grandmother: "Tell him (name untelligible), tell him you're a Mayan."
Boy: (retreating to her side) "I don't WANT to tell him I'm a Mayan."
(buries head in her side)
Me: "Aren't you going to shake my hand before you go?"
Apparently he'd expected that once I knew he was "a indian" I'd have nothing more to do with him. His smile when he realized that wasn't the case... well, it doesn't take many of those to keep you going. For someone with the Captain Hook complex I often claim to have, I do seem to have a soft heart for some children. Bah.

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