Written by Michael Claxton

There’s a great line in the movie “Titanic” that captures the spirit of what happened to me on Saturday. You’ll remember that Jack is a penniless artist who wins his third-class ticket in a poker game. He ends up rescuing Rose and gets invited to dine in first class with her upper-crust friends. When Rose’s mother sneers at his “rootless” lifestyle, Jack confesses that he actually loves not knowing each morning where he is going to end up.

As he tells the Astors and the Guggenheims, “Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge, and now, here I am — on the grandest ship in the world — having champagne with you fine people.”

I hasten to point out that my weekend ended better than Jack’s did. My Saturday involved neither champagne nor doomed ocean liners, but it did feature an unexpected turn of events. At 9:30 in the morning, I was sitting at home grading essays, and by 8 p.m., I was performing a cameo role in a delightful evening of theater.

For the past few years, the HU Campus Players have put on a “24-Hour Writing Project.” In this entirely student-driven event, participants are given their guidelines at 7 p.m. Friday night, and they have until 7 p.m. Saturday night to write, cast, costume, direct, block, rehearse and perform a one-act play. Nothing can be done beforehand — it all has to happen between sunsets.

The film students do something similar, but they have 48 hours because everyone must do all of the above, plus edit. Perhaps it helps that writing marathons are common around here — research papers, anyone? Yet it’s very different when a piece of writing goes on public display.

As you can imagine, the pressure is intense but also exhilarating, especially when you know the results will be seen by enthusiastic friends who will happily cheer them on. In such a short time, mistakes will happen. Few actors can be “off book” with their lines, lighting cues are still being worked out and so on. The unscripted moments simply add to the hilarity.

But such moments are not the main point. On Saturday, the audience saw an incredible display of talent, ingenuity and fine storytelling. Without the polish from weeks of rehearsal, we experienced raw acting and all the gut-level immediacy of impromptu choices. We saw poignant drama and laugh-out-loud comedy. We saw seasoned performers and impressive debuts in front of a fully supportive crowd.

The shows were good — really good — and I was especially struck by the students who wore multiple hats. Some wrote one show and directed another one. Others appeared as actors in more than one script, playing widely divergent roles. All helped to set up and strike the stage. The camaraderie was palpable.

The six shows were engaging, with a variety of plots. In one, a game show host falls over dead on the air, and in another, a roommate is called away under such mysterious circumstances that her best friend feels compelled to follow. A comedy set in a police station features two trainees being taught interrogation techniques, though one insists on shamelessly flirting with the suspect. In a powerful adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s classic short story, “Hills Like White Elephants,” a tense couple argues over the painful topic of abortion, and another drama follows the struggles of a waitress who wants to escape her confining life.

In the show I was in — having been cast over email that morning — two washed-up mice argue over their legacies and futures as the audience slowly pieces together that the two rivals are Mickey Mouse and Chuck E. Cheese. I had a cameo as Stuart Little at the end. Remy from “Ratatouille” and Goofy made hilarious appearances. Like all the scripts, this one was very clever. I wondered, “Where do they get these ideas?”

And to think I almost missed it. I knew the show was happening but didn’t have plans to go, and boy, would my day have been poorer if I had stayed home, “sleeping under a bridge,” if you will. Of course, my 10 seconds onstage weren’t quite a “King of the World” moment — in fact, I accidentally jumped a light cue. But I had a marvelous time.

Whenever 20-year-olds invite 50-year- olds to join in their adventures, they have no idea how much that means to us. It is one of the joys of a college community that people come here for a short time and welcome us “lifers” into their journeys, not just as teachers handing out grades, but as friends engaged in a shared process of discovering and creating. And laughing.

My columns are due on Mondays. So, I had my own little 24-hour writing project this weekend. Thanks for the inspiration, friends.