Let the Games Begin

And like that, we’re off. It seems like for the last year we’ve been preparing/sweating/dreading/looking forward to this very moment. Audition season. Shit.

Is it by accident that audition season falls smack in the middle of flu season? My wry, sarcastic side says no way. They’re testing us. “Can you handle this? Huh, can you? This theater biz is a tough one. You pussies… if you can’t handle a little flu, you can’t hang with us.”

Ok, perhaps not exactly like that. I get it. It’s just the way it works out. But seriously. If you can navigate the application and prescreens, get everything in on time, not murder your family members (I’m pointing no fingers here), and actually get to this point, you’re a winner. What’s a little flu, right? Flu schmoo. *throws salt in air and spins around twice, in the I-just-mocked-the-flu-God-help-me dance*

Two days before flying the news was forecasting city-stopping weather. The day before our flight airports all over the east coast were shutting down. Reports of people stranded at airports prompted well-wishers to call to warn us of what we had been stressing about for days. Some suggesting we cancel the trip because “it’s just too much.”

Just too much? Clearly this person has no idea what it took to just get to this point in the process. “Just reschedule.” Good grief. Cover your ears. I’m going to yell. OMFG, SERIOUSLY? SHE BUSTED HER ASS TO GET HER APPLICATION IN WITH ENOUGH TIME TO EVEN GET AN AUDITION. THIS SCHOOL HAS HAD EVERY AUDITION SLOT FILLED FOR MONTHS. YOU DON’T JUST CANCEL AND RESCHEDULE.

Whew. Ok. I feel a little better. I said nothing, just opting to tell this person it would be fine. I hoped. And it was. The morning of our flight the snow had stopped and all was well in Newark. (Hahaha ok, maybe not. But as far as we were concerned, all was well in Newark.) Our flight was scheduled to get out of LAX on time. We were good to go.

So in the midst of what looks like a pretty nasty flu season, we boarded our LAX to New York flight last Friday. I eyeballed every one of my fellow flyers with the stern glare of an air marshal, certain of a looming terrorist. I spotted a few coughers and communicated with a look that they’d better keep their germs to themselves. Ya I know, it doesn’t work that way. But peri menopausal hormones make a mom invincible. In her mind. With a false sense of security, my little traveling auditionee donned her face mask and tucked herself in by the window, hoping for a germ-free trip.

Our uneventful flight landed in single-digit temps that evening. Southern Californians are not acclimated to this kind of cold. Jesus. As a friend warned me, “wait till you feel the sensation of freezing nose hair.” Indeed, Danielle, I have to agree. It’s the feeling of vengeful little boogers. And no one told me my eyeballs would freeze. Ok, I exaggerate. But daaang, try walking and looking where you’re going in -2 degree wind chill. It feels like they’re literally icing over. I know, call me a wussy. This native Californian is owning it. But after walking off some angst, airplane malaise and dinner we fired up the humidifiers, yes plural, and settled in for a good night’s rest before the big day.

Fortunately she was assigned a late morning time slot. So we had a leisurely morning before heading to the studio. It was a brisk walk in the freezing temps. But it completed the New York experience. In my mind thinking, “I could never live in this shit,” and in my daughter’s mind, “I can’t wait to live here.” Who IS this kid?

Now if you’ve never walked in to a room of waiting auditionees and their parents, it’s a treat. You’ve got a party basket full of personalities to psychoanalyze. There are the corner dwellers, who just sit back and take it all in. Then standing with arms crossed in the middle of it all, you’ve got the judgers. They’re silently listening and whispering to one another with a smug sense of overly confident satisfaction. But the ones I find most entertaining are the social butterflies. This mom is working the room, chatting everyone up, sizing up the competition and bragging about how fabulous her daughter is. I say daughter, because I’ve rarely encountered a boy-mom who has done this. Not to say they’re not out there. And if you’re lucky, you’ll encounter that mom who sees every room as an opportunity to sell Arbonne. Who’d have thought there would be an opportunity to restock on lipstick at an audition? It’s a win.

We endured the half hour wait for her five minute audition. Yes, FIVE minutes. How on earth do they know who they want after such a short visit? I’m certain I’ll ask myself that after every audition through this process. Afterward we headed back to the hotel to relax, then once again back for her dance audition. Lucky for me we sat next to a very nice mom from Michigan for our 45 minute wait. Talking to her made me realize just how high I rank on the wuss-meter. Really. reeeeally high.

And with that, her first audition was done. Travel back home was again, uneventful. And yet I cried a little as I drove away from LAX, knowing that I would be back again in ten days to fly, once again to New York for the hell that is NY Unified auditions. I can’t wait. (sarcasm font)

A note on humidifiers: for a singer they are life’s blood. The one pictured above is the PurMist personal handheld. It is pure awesome. We also have a small travel humidifier that you use with a plain old small drinking water bottle. Ours is about 4″ x 2″ and is great for fixing up the dry hotel room air. I suggest both for traveling auditioners.