Thursday, December 18, 2008

Tales Of Northern Deliverance

So I said the West Virginia audition would be a blog post all its own...well, I've been trying to think of something to write and I figured that now was as good a time as any.

To fill you in, there is this large audition called the Southeastern Theatre Conference, or SETCs. It's a big, mass audition with around 100 companies there who cast everything from summer stock seasons to Disneyworld Tokyo. If you can think it, they are casting it. In order for me to audition, since it had been so long since I worked professionally, I had to go to a screening audition at my specified regional auditions. Mine was scheduled for November, in West Virginia at this adorable little college about three hours away.

Perfect. I register, prep with my voice teacher, reserve a hotel room for the night and away I go. I'm in the best of moods, practically clicking my heels as best as someone can while driving, thinking about how excited and nervous I am to be jumping into this kind of life again - the world of mass auditions, scrutiny, cruise ship shows and fun, engaging theatres. The first two hours float by without a hitch, I've got Dane Cook and Ralphie May keeping me company and everything is rolling by quite nicely.

This is when I hit West Virginia.

I should have known things were going to take a turn for the worse when I not only saw a rebel flag (I knew I'd start seeing them as soon as I crossed the border - I'm not an idiot,) but a trailer hitched to a truck that is hand-painted with a panoramic scene of the civil war. I'm talking bleeding soldiers on the ground, horses running, the whole deal. On the back of the trailer was the requisite rebel flag, emblazoned proudly, next to an eagle with the phrase "Let's go kill those yankee bastards!!!" Underneath it.

Ok, I get it. You guys ae yay for the grey. I am aware. But you constantly boggle me and make me want to shake you. In the entire history of West Virginia and the Civil War itself, you consistently fail to realize that YOU ARE A NORTHERN STATE. If you hate the north that much, then move the F down to Georgia.

Anyway, I turn onto the final road I have on my map, another state route, and head on my way. The state route turns into a one lane road...on a the dark...

With no signs....lights...or people...or cell reception...

Needless to say by the time I actually found a gas station four later and got myself off of the bermuda mountain, I was a sobbing, nervous wreck who had had wayyy too many images of myself careening off the 20th dead man's curve I'd seen in 20 minutes for her heart to take. All I could think was "If I break down, if I crash n roll down the side of this mountain, no one will know where I am..."

I get back onto the highway and to civilization with little trouble considering what I'd just been through and make my way back to Columbus. I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm exhausted. I'm on Route 33. The end is in sight! In 45 minutes, I'll be home!!! Cue the flashing lights behind me.

Yep, the cops pulled me over for speeding. But my red, swollen face and bloodshot eyes from hours of hysterical crying scared him away to leave me only with a warning. Thank god. And a scientific theory is proven - if you're a chick, crying will get you out of a speeding ticket.

After leaving at 12 noon that day, I returned home at 11:30pm. I crawled into my bed and did not move until the next day. Total. Disaster. Then, to add insult to injury, I got an email from the West Virginia Theatre Conference I was trying to Get to inform me that "I was not accepted to go to the SETC's." Well no shit, sherlock! I couldn't even find your crazy, Twin Peaks campus! But obviously, you didn't even notice I wasn't there since you think I auditioned for you.

The worst part of it was I was scared that it was a sign - a sign that I wasn't supposed to be doing this, that I should stop. Because I had gotten it in my head that it was this symbolic moment in my timeline, I had convinced myself that by it going up in smoke was a bad omen, or some sort of punishment by the great gig in the sky for being...I don't know, being me. Not being a good person, or not playing enough with the weird kid in class in first grade.

But I see it was just another one of the pieces falling into place for me, something taken care of to clear the way for what was really meant to be done.

Once again, I'm getting tired and running out of gas. How funny I finally get inspired to write these things when I'm about to pass out. Off to work again tomorrow - not so sure I like these 3-11pm and 2-11pm shifts, but of course it is better than nothing. *yawns hard enough to wipe tears* Oi.

Night all!

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