Fun Follies Fact: I'm the king of whatever it is that I'm the king of in our "Circle of Life" finale. I carry my lovely and regal queen onstage among all the romping animals and glorious singing at the end of each show. I spin her around regally for all to admire on my regal shoulder (which is actually just one of the two regal shoulders I possess; they come in a set for us royalty). I set her down. We ascend a singer-lined staircase, gesturing gracefully with our regal arms. We reach a platform at the top. Our adorable child races up the staircase after us. I lift her proudly and regally to my regal shoulder (though I remind you that both of my shoulders are, in fact, equally regal) in that momentary musical breath between the singers' final "of" and "life." The profoundly emotional and eternally grateful audience leaps to its feet in roaring waves of obsequious adulation. And, scene.
And then tonight, halfway up the staircase as the music soared around us and the animals romped below us and our graceful arms gestured regally about us, it suddenly hit me: There weren't any lost quarters; everyone was BOWING. To US. Because we were ROYALTY. In CAPITAL LETTERS.
Now, despite all the rumors and the understandably logical conclusions they inspire, I have never, in fact, been royalty. So until tonight I've never been -- or even suddenly realized I was being -- deferentially mass-bowed to, on a staircase or otherwise. Being surrounded by servile sycophants has never really been my thing. UNTIL IT SUDDENLY WAS TONIGHT ONSTAGE IN FRONT OF 2,000 ENRAPTURED WITNESSES. And even though it royally impedes my royal ascension of our royal-by-association staircase, I WANT MORE BOWING. So you need to always remember to bow in mass obsequious deference when you see me, whether or not there is any combination of soaring music, romping animals or graceful arms involved in the circumstances of your sycophancy. Kthanks.