My first big audition was when I was in the sixth grade. It was for a two week summer camp for kids who liked Musical Theater.
In my neighborhood, elementary school ended in the sixth grade and middle school started in the seventh. The summer in between is a lost summer. It doesn’t belong anywhere. And neither did I.
I had fallen in love with musicals at an early age and was the only boy in the sixth grade choir. i got beat up a lot.
I wasn’t able to attend the audition date because my family had other plans. My mother got on the phone and talked to other adults and found another day when I could audition.
On the big day, we were running late, My mother had problems finding the college where the audition was being held and we had no time to grab something to eat. But we did make it on time.
There was a table of adults. They told me to go through a door. I did. The door opened to a theater. One of those huge community college theaters that no one knows quite what to do with. And the theater was full of kids. No waiting room. Everyone was in the theater watching everyone audition. The entire front section of the theater was packed with kids.
And not just any kids. High school kids.
High school theater kids.
Teenagers. Some of them probably dove. They may have even driven themselves to the audition. In their own cars.
And they all turned to look at the kid who had just opened the door. I was the last to arrive.
It suddenly dawned on me that because we had switched to a different date - I was the only sixth grader in the entire theater. I took the closest seat. On the aisle.
I looked around. The boys were dressed in what my mother called “dress jeans.” Many wore shirts with button down collars that were perfectly tucked in. More than a few wore black turtlenecks. I learned at that moment that that is what a serious actor wears - black turtlenecks.
The girls wore cool wood things in their hair to create a bun and weren’t ashamed of wearing glasses because they were cool glasses and that meant they were smart. They wore hippie-like skirts. There were scarves. But not keep -you -warm scarves. Decorative scarves. Creative types.
I was wearing my Easter suit. It was my only suit and it was a celebration of geometric pastel. The suit was three years old and it still fit. And it still itched. The bow tie didn’t help.
The auditions started. They were doing monologues. Long speeches from plays. But they weren’t doing them like speeches. They were pretending to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t there. Three girls pretended to cry. I believed them. Two boys even did Shakespeare. The were both wearing black turtlenecks.
My audition piece was to sing “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile.” from the musical ANNIE. So far - no one else had sung. Of course not. This was the audition for the drama camp. What they called “straight plays.”. I was the only one singing.
I was the only one singing and I was the only one from elementary school.
I didn’t belong. Again.
They called my name.
I walked up to the stage carrying my black cassette recorder. I placed it at the lip of the stage to make sure everyone could hear my music teacher’s previously recorded piano accompaniment I then moved to center stage. I knew that much.
The music started to play. I started to sing.
I started to sing “You Are Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile.”
But I did not smile.
I did not move.
I froze.
I was an Easter Egg standing at attention.
And then I started to move .Or rather, my left leg started to move. Quiver, actually,
Then full on - shake.
Do they notice - or is it just happening within the pant leg?
I shifted and put weight on it to see if that would help.
It did not. My leg almost gave in.
I was hardly breathing. My stomach felt sick. My right hand joined the shaking.
Abruptly I stopped singing. I walked over to the cassette recorder, pushed STOP, grabbed it by the handle,leaped off the stage and proceed to speed walk down the center aisle passing all of the cool kids and there was only thought in the whole wide world - don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I entered the lobby and lost it. Silently.
My mother had witnessed all of this. She had found her way up in to the balcony to secretly watch me audition. Mothers will do that.
She ran down the stairs and met me in the lobby..
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! i’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten all day and I am just hungry. I’m starving and I just…I just need something to eat.”
“OK. We will get you something to eat.” Practical solutions being my mother’s strong suit,
We went to a diner. I looked at the the menu. I ordered a bagel. I had never had one. I wasn’t even quite sure what they were.
The waitress asked, ” Cream cheese or lox.?”
I had no idea what a lox was but it certainly didn’t sound like anything I would want to eat.
“Cream cheese.” I knew that. It was the white stuff.
“Toasted.”
‘Please.” I didn’t really get what the other options were. It didn’t matter.
I was having my first bagel. We didn’t have them in the suburbs. But I was convinced that is what a cool theater kid would order.
It was urban. It was ethnic. It was new.
I ate it.
I said nothing.
My mother let me be.
I liked it,
My mother asked, “Do you feel better?”
“Yes. A little. But i’ll feel a lot better when we just go home. I just wanna go home.”
And then I got that look. The look only a mother can give. The look that told me we were not going home, We were going back.
I don’t remember paying the check. I don’t remember driving back to the college.. I don’t remember my mother negotiating to get me another shot. I don’t remember waiting again.
I don’t remember the audition.
But I do remember what happened after I sang.
The clapped.
I guess some of the kids had seen my first attempt.
They applauded.
Were they applauding because I was good or because I had come back?
Who cares?
I got in.
The Maryland Center for the Gifted and Talented.
Two weeks of summer camp with other kids my age who liked Musical Theater. Two weeks. It felt like two months. An hour and a half away from home and it felt like the other side of the world.
And, you know what?
People liked me.
I was popular.
The counselors liked me. And they were in college!
I heard things like - “You’re coming, right.?” “OK - meet you there.””Save me a seat!”
I even had a nickname.
But that was a long time ago.
And of course, I still get scared. I still speed walk down the aisle. Every now and then I even lose it in the lobby.
But now when i do. When I’m stuck. When I’m scared.
I ask myself one question. One simple question. And It always seems to do the trick.
“What’s the bagel?”