The day of horror

Sunday March 29th was the day of fear. Would I handle the preassure of going to a Broadwayshow-tryout in the United Staes of America - the country of all great shows and movies...?

7.59 Sunday morning, after a long sleepless night, I woke up by the phone ringing. On the line - Australia - who wanted to wish me luck. After a fiew minutes moaning and comforting words I felt ready to step out of bed beginning the day I was convinced would be one of the most humiliating in my life. At least that phonecall gave me something else to blame, the deal which we made in Miami, insted of my own stupidity.

Forcing my thoughts as far away from this day as possible I took a shower, ate a big bowl of oatmeal and made a quick phonecall to Cat´s to check if it was alright to sneek by and borrow the GPS at 9 o´cklock in the morning. After a lovely "Feel no preassure" from the kids I left for New Jersey and my doom, singing as loud as I could in the car to shout down the pessimistic voices in my head telling me to go back. At 10.30 I arrived (thank God for the GPS or I would have been lost at some highway to nowhere), found a parkinglot, took a deep breath and walked towards the singn screaming BROADWAY at me. Got shown to a room for "sign up" and sat down to wait along with a bunch of other youths. After listening to the information about the test I realised I could sing to the CD Í had been practicing with and rushed back to the car to get it. As to show me how much it really hated me after putting in a CD with the High School Musical soundtrack, or maybe as a try to stop me from commiting the terrible misstake to commit public suecide, the CD player refused to hand me the CD. After 20 min swetty tries to, with help of  tool such as hair needles and keys, I had to consider myself defeted. With one last angry punch against it I haeded back to the others with a heart rate way above normal, and an inner voice yelling  disparaging words about me.

Five minutes later I found myself standing on a stage, number two in line, listening to a guy singing his heart out wondering how the h**** I was doing there. Luckily there was no time for my inner war to end, in which case I think  my soul would have been something like a city after a nuclear explosion, because my name was called and I realised there was no other way then the hard one. With a determined mind of doing the best of my remaining time alive I walked across the stage, handed the music sheet (which at least the evil car hadn´t got a hold on) to the pianist and said "I have never been singing this song to the piano before". He gave it a look and answered "I don´t recognize it, but let´s try". He started playing to check if I got it, and apperantly I did, so step number two was to enter the centre of the stage, place myself at the big X, say "hello" to the five juges curiosly watching me and start singing. After 1 shaky minute in which I only stopped once I heard the brutal "Thank you!", and off the stage I went.

Safely back behind the satge I get welcomed with a "Good job!" and some smiling faces which, enen though they might be lying, makes me feel a bit better while I watch all the remaining applicants. Some are actuallt worse then me, som e are better and some are WAY better. In the group there are some really talanted singers with a confidence that shows that this is not their frist time in the spotlights. The performenses are short and the "Thank you!" is heard in the same abrutp voice no matter if the singers are stars or just beginners like myslef. Fifteen minutes later I find myselt sitting at a coffeplace across the street texting "Singing is done and I´m still alive" to those I know will be calmed by this sign of life.

Three hours, and the same digit cups of coffee, later I once agian find myself in the waiting area with a bunch of youths, this time the number is a lot bigger, warming up for the dace test. This time I feel even less perpared when I look around seeing people in ballet-shoes stretching their legs over their shoulders. My body is haking as a reslut of too much nervousness, coffe and too little to eat and I sink down on the floor at the far end of the room making myself as invisible as possible. "Do you know what song we are gonna dance to?" a girl to my right suddenly asks. She says the name of a song I´ve never heard of and tells me it´s from Legally Blond the musical. "It is the workout-song and I´ve heard the choriograpy is going to be super hard." GREAT!  With pictures of splits and backflips in my mind I stand up and follow the rest back to the theatre where we get split up in two groups, of which mine gets shown up to the second floor´s corridor to learn the moves. During five minutes we get thought a serie of moves which i try to practice as well as I can whitout knocking someones teeth out moving my arms outside the 1 foot space I have to myself. After really considering asking for help we get shown down to the stage once more, devided into groups after first name (which means I´m first in line) and are asked to do the moves to music for the first time. I have been told to have fun so I smile my face off while trying to do my best remembering when to twist at which direction, and after two tries it´s time for the second group. Ten minutes later it´s time for jugement and I try once more to show how much I enjoy dancing, while doing the moves as big and controlled as I can. The last time I actually feel like I´m starting to get it, and find myself having fun, but of course then it´s over.

We get told we can leave, I grab my stuff and head back to the car, chatting with a guy from my group I managed to not hit in the face, with a big si´mile on my face. The gray moist sky that hung over me on my way there got swithed out, and is now clear blue. Sun is shining and thermometer shows 20 degreece Celsius. I leave Pitman with a feeling of pure happiness, singing my loudest to every song comming up on the radio, no matter if I´ve heard it or not. While focus is not on the GPS I end up driving on a five-lane highway, but that doesn´t bother me at all, and I enter the road-costum with "I´m yours" on max voulme and hand over the 90 cents to the guy with my most glossy "Have a good day!" The demons of my mind are blown away. Only the feeling of pure happiness is left, and I am proud of myself for doing this, for pushing myself to explore the way to my dreams, even though it´s not the most glamorous one. I didn´t to terrible, I did ok and that´s enough for me. I don´t expect getting the phonecall asking me to come back for another tryout, and that wasn´t my goal either. I just wanted to give it a try while I´m here, in the United States, to see if I could do it and come back with one more amazing experience. That was my goal and I reached it. Well done Alex!

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Postat av: Australia

Proud of you Alex. =D

2009-04-12 @ 11:56:40

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