I'd like to remind you all that I just graduated from Northwestern University. That means I paid approximately $200,000 to prepare me for my chosen career path. That means my ass should not be sitting on the floor of an empty room in the middle of NYC amongst mere children who paid around $500 for a piece of paper from some establishment called AMDA.
Yet, there I was.
I debated for a long time whether I should spend my day off waking up early to swallow my pride and attend an open call for Hooray for Hollywood...a musical review that plans to open on the West End which surely means somewhere west of London (if London still exists post-rioting) and then tour the U.K. (if the U.K. still exists post-rioting). When my alarm went off at 8 a.m. I was somehow motivated. I was at no place in my life to turn down an audition opportunity! I could do this!! I could go down there and show them who's who and book this gig!!!
So I hit snooze for the next hour...
THEN I took a shower, threw on something that shouted "I'm American and hooray for our love of Hollywood". I realized I would now make it down there just as the 7 hours of open-call were about to begin. For those of you who don't know how open calls work, that means there were already 75-100 generically plain-looking brunettes wearing too much make-up already waiting to sing their 16 bars (though they were all hoping to squeeze in 32).
Once I made it down to the infamous Ripley Grier Studios, I found the holding room and walked up to the UNOFFICIAL LIST. Again, for those of you not in theatre...
...and might I add since I've heard some straight boy name Roullard has recently bookmarked my blog I'm going to guess A LOT of you are "not in theatre"...
The UNOFFICIAL LIST is a series of notebook papers that some girl who showed up 3 hours early has written (usually in purple or green ink) UNOFFICIAL LIST at the top of so that the audition monitor will know just how serious she is about these auditions. And like idiots, the rest of us schmucks respect this list and continue to sign our names underneath hers.
I was lucky 78 at 10 a.m. Less than 10 people would show up in the following 3 hours meaning I could have showed up 4 hours later and been seen at the exact same time.
That's called MATH and I was the only person in the room who could do it.
So I had several hours to kill. Here are some observations and spicy tid-bits that happened in those several hours:
1. I was the only blonde boy that showed up. Out of approximately 15 boys that even bothered to show up. One was a 65 year old man.
2. If you're not sure what you should sing, ask strangers. A nice group of generic brunettes were nice enough to inform a blonde girl that "Astonishing" is pretty much blacklisted from auditions these days. I seriously considered singing it after hearing that...
3. No girl...and I mean NO GIRL...looks good in a cotton jersey-knit dress. We can see the outline of your stomach, your love handles, and your droopy ass ALL AT ONCE!
4. Apparently you can't show up in your audition attire. You must show up looking your absolute WORST and then let us all watch your transformation (into a generically plain-looking brunette) as you put on your make-up, put in your hot rollers, and change out of your ill-fitting gym wear to slip on (you guessed it) a cotton jersey-knit dress.
5. If you are going to sing a song that was written for and first sung by Jennifer Hudson...you'd better be able to actually sing it better than Jennifer Hudson...otherwise do Diana Ross.
6. Nude heels lose their elongating effect if they're covered in dirt and scuff marks.
7. ARE PEOPLE SERIOUSLY STILL NOT PUTTING THEIR MUSIC IN A BINDER?!
Near the end of my 4 hours amongst the future cast of off-off-Broadway and an Alaskan Cruise Line Near You, I remembered my first days in NYC...full of audition appointments for hit Broadway shows and meetings with agents...
and I wept.
I put on my $10 sunglasses, grasped my tap water filled Fiji bottle, and wept for the days when I could be rejected by people who were somebody.
Suddenly the idea of touring the country in a van and portraying our first President for hoards of elementary school students has never felt so exciting.
Don't take me off the insurance yet Mom,
TJB: Making It
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