The Audition

The only major audition I've ever been on was for the First Coast Nutcracker, in Jacksonville, when I was ten. That audition paid off in a three-year stint as a mouse. I never had a dream to be on Broadway, or to dance for ABA, or Alvin Alley, or to be the next Martha Graham, which is what probably sets me FAR apart from my auditioning counterparts, and makes me stick out like a sore thumb.


This would be, (dare I say it), my THIRD audition for Disney. I wear the same outfit, hair, and make up to every audition, with the hopes that eventually, the casting directors will remember how "awesomely amazing" I was at the last audition, and finally offer me a spot. (LOL!)


I scan the room of openly gay males and mousy girls for anyone who looks like me. Five, including myself. Five is a lot, more than usual. "...Too dark... not enough make up... too heavy...that one doesn't even have dance shoes, is she really going to audition in her socks? ...hmmm bingo! I find the the auditioned who most closely resembles me (in looks and complexion), and therefore is my direct competition for the role of "token black girl".


I attempt to put on a "show" of my talents by performing a mass of floor stretches that I can fit into the tiny 4x6 space. You ever hear of the term laughing on the outside, crying on the inside? Well that's me, at this moment. Freaking out on the inside, and justa stretching and dancin' away on the outside. I watch the frightened faces of the first time auditioners sitting and wondering what to expect. I don’t notice the room beginning fill beyond fire code, as I am busy with my outward show of confidence. A couple people stop over to stretch and make conversation along with me, which means, it must be working. (Wait till they actually see my audition, they'll be disappointed).


I look around the room to see who’s filtered in, in the last 30min, and I access their dance ability and expertise based on their choice of audition wardrobe. A lot of people appear to be friends, which means that they already work for Disney (cheaters), or like me they are putting on a great show and can back it up with acquaintances. I discreetly observe the competition out of the corner of my eye. She hasn't stopped stretching since I walked in, and is now performing a combination of basic warm up exercises and flexible ballet steps. All eyes are on her. I up the ante, and all eyes are still on her.”Damn it!" "Why did she have to audition today? On my day to audition?"


After an hour and thirty, they call numbers 145 and up (I'm number 152). “Finally!” We crowd into the dance room, where I find a spot in the front left corner of the room. I usually stand in the middle back, but as I am still trying to show confidence…


I should have just stood where I normally would have, in the back. The choreographer taught the audition combination at lightening speed, during which I must have bumped into three people trying to remember what came next. I can only imagine how ungraceful I must've looked. (why couldn't it have been a tap or jazz combo?...I suck at ballet.) Surprisingly, when it was my turn, I did alright (forgot to smile though), but just like I thought, the competition was asked to stay and my audition was over. Just like that.


I must be on a first cut streak. I didn't make it past the first cut of the Orlando Magic Dancer tryouts either. This time I really was crying on the inside and smiling on the outside.

On the drive home Katy Perry's Waking up in Vegas came on the radio. I replaced the course with "That's what you get for trying out at Disney!" I must have looked crazy to the other drivers singing at the top of my lungs. I caught one of them laughing and pointing me out to his friend. I looked at myself singing in the mirror, and let out a laughed. All was right with the world again.