An Audition, Meth Withdrawal, and Freaking the Fuck Out
Slammed: a Memoir — Chapter 6 Part 3
I stood on the sidewalk on 8th Avenue in midtown about 30 feet from rehearsal studio door.
It was the first day of auditions for Springfield Repertory Theater’s inaugural summer stock season. Back in January I took a break from slamming meth long enough to honor one of the last commitments I made before falling down the rabbit hole. Jason, Roger, Dexter, Laura, Michael, Allison and I got together and officially formed an LLC which would be the producing arm of SRT, and we selected the shows for our first season.
I watched as a few straight-backed guys and even more women headed inside, backpacks and gym bags in tow. I stood frozen, holding my bag, knowing I had to follow them, but wanting to turn around and run away as fast as my feet would carry me.
I wasn’t high, thank goodness. I had the wherewithal to make sure I was stone cold sober for the audition, promising myself a nice juicy slam when I made it back to Fort Lee. I took a couple deep — stiff — breaths, put one foot in front of the other, and made my way inside.
When I entered the audition holding room, I nearly turned right the fuck around. Had there been a nearby window, that would have been a viable option.
The room was packed. Several dozen actors and actresses filled the space with an undulating buzz of conversation.
“Hi! Oh my god how are you?” one actor asked another who they’d hadn’t seen since their last audition which honestly could have been the day before or even this morning.
The room was to the gills with young men and women in form fitting audition outfits. The women had their hair done up or curled with impeccable makeup they had most likely applied at 5am. The men were mostly in clean dark slacks and collared shirts. Pops of brightly colored tops were sprinkled throughout the room.
Allison emerged from the audition room. She was working as the audition monitor.
“Ok,” she said and the room immediately fell quiet and attentive, the silence broken by a pair of tap shoes being placed on the floor, the rustling of sheet music, and a zip of a bag.
“When I call your name, please line up out in the hallway.”
I caught Allison’s eye and waved.
“Hi John. I’ll let them know you’re here. Would you be ready to go in the next group?”
The hyperactive monkey inside me was screaming its head off, throwing shit around, whining about why the fuck I had to audition in the first place. Like, seriously? I’m one of the founders. We’re doing Of Mice and Men specifically for me and Jason for crying out loud.
Yet as recalcitrant as the screaming monkey was, I understood that Laura didn’t know me as well as Dexter and Jason and, as casting director, she needed to have me audition to see where I would fit in the rest of the season.
“Sure,” I managed to croak out.
Though I still had to audition, I did enjoy the perk of coming in at a set time. Everyone else around me had to play the well known non-union audition game of showing up well before the door opened, often before the sun was up, and signing up on an unofficial list that may or may not honor.
Would I be ready? I was far from sure, but the sooner I could get in, the sooner I could get the hell out.
I sat on a metal folding chair and took out my audition book with my music and headshots. As the din of conversations flooded back into the room, I realized how long it had been since I had been around this many people. Well, this many people with the lights on. It was as if every single person in the room was vibrating on a different frequency, all blending into a torturous dissonance, rubbing against my brain like a dentist drill.
I didn’t look up at anyone or try to connect like everyone else. I took out my headshot, turned it over, and studied my list of shows and special skills. The woman on my right was recounting her recent audition where she forgot her character shoes and did the entire dance combination on tiptoes. The guy on my left was listing his credits — all of them — in a contrived conversational way for his friend but really for everyone in earshot. The room was awash in the aromas of hairspray, Axe body spray, dance shoes and sweat.
Allison returned. “Ok, next group when I call your names. John, you can tag on to the end of this group.”
As I did, I noticed my heart didn’t start beating faster as it normally would when I’m about to audition. It had already been pounding from down on the sidewalk. I wasn’t nervous. I certainly wasn’t excited. I just wanted to get in there and get it over with so I could get the fuck out.
As each member of the line disappeared into the audition room, I hugged my audition book, wishing each one of them would hurry up while at the same time wishing they would take a little longer.
Then it was my turn.
I turned on my AMDA-light face and stepped in the room.
It was not a small room, thank goodness. The last thing I wanted to do was feel like I was singing in their laps. Michael, our maestro, sat at the piano while Laura and Jason were behind the table.
I stepped out of my anxiety for the briefest of moments, annoyed, wondering why Jason had been asked to help behind the table and I hadn’t. That fleeting thought bubble popped and disappeared just as quickly.
I walked over to Michael and set my music in front of him: Lonely House from Kurt Weill’s Broadway opera Street Scene.
All through musical theater classes at AMDA I was given high energy character numbers, songs originated by the likes of Joel Gray, Evan Pappas, Martin Short. Yet, when it came time for our final showcase performance, the music director, clueing into the fact that my voice was a lot more meaty and powerful than these character songs let on, handed me Lonely House, a song about a man’s crippling loneliness while living in New York City.
I must have chosen it to show Laura a side of me she hadn’t seen, but now as I stood in front of them — my friends — I wished I had picked something that was more up-tempo, mostly so that it would be over faster.
As I started singing, I let muscle memory take over, latching onto the lyrics for safety, finding a connection with them I hadn’t known before. I wasn’t thinking about my acting beats or the overly choreographed gestures that I had done more times than I could count. I just let myself be carried by the vibration of my voice ringing through my chest and head.
I found myself trying to reach through the lyrics, trying to communicate with my friends behind the table, trying, somehow, to tell them what was going on with me, what life had become, how terrified I was, how lonely.
“I guess there must be something I don’t comprehend. Sparrows have companions. Even stray dogs find a friend.”
As I reached the climax of the song, I looked up at the ceiling and cried out, praying someone would understand without me having to say it.
“The night for me is not romantic. Unhook the stars and take them down. I’m lonely in this lonely house.”
I felt the climax pass and came back to the room to finish.
“In this lonely town.”
Michael finished out the music and I let the moment land.
“Ok,” Laura said. I could tell what I had given was a lot, especially since they had most likely been hearing Cole Porter up-tempos all morning. She started looking at scene sides sitting in piles in front of her. “Do you want to read for Puck?”
I had wanted to read for Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In normal, Tina-free times, that was a no brainer.
But I didn’t want to read for Puck.
I just wanted to get out of there. In fact, it was taking all my will not to grab my things and make a hasty exit.
“No, that’s ok,” I said.
Both Jason and Laura looked confused.
“Ok, is there anything you like to read for?”
“Well, no. Honestly, wherever you put me I’ll be happy.”
Please let me out. Let me out. I have to get out!
“Uh, ok, well,” she sounded a little frustrated, but ready to move on as there was another line of people in the hall ready to have their turn. “That’s all we need right now.”
She’d barely said this when I had my audition folder in my hand saying thank you as I bolted for the door.
I tried to not look like I was rushing or panicked, probably failing on both counts, as I threw my book in my bag and tried to get the hell out of Dodge.
I was halfway down the stairwell when “Hey!” Jason called from the top of the stairwell, he had clearly run to catch up with me after realizing I had already left.
I slowed down enough to look at him but kept moving toward the exit. “Yeah?”
“You gonna be home later?” That’s right, he was staying at my apartment. I had forgotten about that.
“Probably not, man. I made some plans with some friends tonight.” I started back down the stairs. I couldn’t stay any longer. I had to get out! “I’ll catch ya later.”
I left Jason standing there, most likely bewildered, too lost in my panic to care.
I exited back out on the street and all but ran to the subway.
Next Chapter
Chapter Guide
A lot of heart, time, and work goes into each piece. One way you can support me is by signing up for a $5/month Medium Membership. Use this link and I’ll get a percentage of your subscription fee. Huzzah for supporting artists!
If the spirit moves you, another way you can support me is by leaving me a tip. Thank you for reading!
