Today I had two auditions.  That happens sometimes, I’ll have a day where I have more than one.  And of course, Murphy’s Law mandates that they be roughly at the same time and never in the same city.  And that’s what happened today.  On top of that, I had to change my wardrobe and make up in between because my “business woman” attire that I wore to the first audition was not going to work for the “charades playing sister” I was portraying in the second one.

I fought the famous L.A. traffic to make it to the first audition, and some how, I managed to get a parking spot (one where the meter was not broken) and signed in just before my call time.  There were two women there vying for MY part--and yes, I will say “MY” part...I like to think positively.  I saw “The Secret” you know!

One was dressed all wrong (my opinion), and the other was dressed all wrong AND had a baby.  This little cutie was only 9 months old and already walking!  Of course he was also banging into things left and right, but the walking at 9 months thing was impressive.  I chatted up his mom whilst the other gal had her turn trying to get MY job.  Then it was time for the mom to go in.  “You seem like a nice person,” she said, “Will you watch him for me for a minute while I audition?”

Really?  I mean, I’m sure I do “look like a nice person”.  But, how on earth would this woman know if I really was a nice person?  I could have been a baby snatching axe murderer for all she knew!  I was thinking of telling her that since it was MY job, she needn’t bother asking me to babysit for her since she needn’t bother auditioning in the first place.  But before I could open my mouth she left me in the waiting room watching her son, which really meant I followed him around and kept him from hitting his head on things.

After my turn was done I ran up a few flights of stairs (the ladies room was being retiled on the floor the casting director’s office was on), and pulled a “Superman” like costume change.  Then I was off to audition number 2.  I drove half an hour or so across town to the next location, but this time, the parking gods were not with me.  I circled the block several times like a shark, but nobody was pulling out.  I gave up circling and headed to where I knew there was a parking garage.  I figured it was a nice day, I could take a little walk.  But, when I got to the garage, the “full” light was illuminated.  Darn it!  I decided to try the shark routine again.  Still no luck.  Not on the blocks around the audition anyway.  I started widening my perimeters and found a metered spot.  By this time I was cutting it close.  I put in the maximum number of quarters allowed which bought me 2 hours.  That should have been enough.

Then I speed walked to the address I’d been given.  I had to make a few turns along the way, and in my rush, I neglected to make a mental note of which street on which I’d actually left the car.  Of course I didn’t realize it just then.  No, I was in too much of a hurry to get to this audition.  I passed at least 4 different homeless people along the way.  I kept thinking, please don’t talk to me, please don’t ask me for anything.  It’s not that I don’t want to help out, but I was in a hurry.  I even heard someone saying as I speed walked by, “Hey young lady, you look like a nice person.”  Again, how would he know?  I simply pretended not to hear him and kept on hustling toward the audition.

This time it was a cattle call.  That means that unlike the first one, where there were three of us, there was a whole room crammed full of us.  Great.  This meant there would most likely be a long wait (and there was), and also that there would be a lot of competition.  As much as I wish I could say that I stayed positive and thought in my head that there was no competition, because it was MY job, my confidence started to crumble.  I stepped into the hallway and checked my look in the mirror.  My hair, which I’d spent a significant amount of time on before the first audition, had fallen pretty flat, and my make up had gone from “natural” to “nonexistent”.

I noticed another woman peering into the mirror at her reflection, and occasionally at mine--she seemed to be steeling glances at me.  So I smiled.  That was all the opening she needed.  “Can I ask you something?” She said.  “Normally I wouldn’t, but...You look like a nice person.”  Again with the “nice” thing.  “Should I leave my hair down, or put it up?”

Now here I should say that what might seem like a harmless thing to ask someone in any other arena is a loaded question in an audition situation.  She is basically asking me, her competition, what to do to increase her chances of getting the part.  How did she know that I would tell her my real opinion?  I could have told her to go shave her head for crying out loud!  But she seemed genuinely concerned about her hair, and I could tell that I was not the only one who had begun to wonder whether the part would by “MINE” when all these women were done giving it their best.

“Well,” I said, “I think you should leave it down.  It looks really nice down, and I’m sure if they want to see it up they’ll ask you to put it up.  If it’s down, they can picture it up, but not so much the other way around.”

“I think you’re right,” she concluded.

“And your hair,” I went on, “is amazing!”  She really did have great hair--very curly and not at all frizzy.  “It helps you to stand out from the crowd, and this is a pretty big crowd!”

“Thank you,” she said and then they called in the next group--my group.  The casting director went through the instructions.  Basically there were five of us in the room.  Two guys, and three women.  He said we were playing charades--and pulled me aside to be the one acting out whatever the word/phrase was going to be.  The others just had to sit there and react.  But I had to...I had to...what was it I was going to have to do?  He hadn’t given me the word.  And he didn’t either, until we were just about to start.  Then he came over and whispered two hateful words in my ear.  Rhythmic gymnastics.  Seriously?  How was I going to get them to guess that?  No time to think, he was already rolling.

I started doing arabesques and little jumps, but they weren’t getting it. “BALLET?”  “DANCE?”  “DANCER?” Finally I did a summersault and jumped up ala Nadia Comaneci with my hands up and chest out, and then turned and did the same facing them.  “GYMNASTICS?”  They all shouted.  Good.  Now how to portray the “rhythmic” part.  Did these people even know what “rhythmic gymnastics” was?  Did I?  I thought it was the kind where the gymnast had a baton with a ribbon attached.  I was pretty sure anyway, and so I started pretending to twirl my imaginary stick.  “PIRATE?”  YES--pirate gymnastics.  Nailed it.  This was not working.  I kept on making even bigger movements with my arm.  “FENCING?” “SWORD FIGHTING?”  Really?  Fencing gymnastics.  Sword fighting gymnastics.  C’mon people!!!!!  Finally the director said, “OK...Cut.”  Thank God.  I was feeling more than a little bit foolish for having literally rolled around on the floor on camera and waved my arm around in what apparently was more a sword fighting pirate’s type of motion rather than a rhythmic gymnast’s.  Oh well.

I passed the curly haired rival in the hallway on my way out.  She’d followed my advice and left her hair down.  Looked good.  Too good.  Damn it!  What if this wasn’t going to be MY part?  I tried to put it out of my mind and started walking to...where?  Where was I walking to?  That’s about when I realized that I had forgotten to remember where I’d parked.  Where was that car?  I knew it was somewhere around Wilshire and 7th.  And the audition was on fifth, close to Arizona.  But now I couldn’t remember which way the streets were going, was 7th to my left?  To my right?  And where the hell did Wilshire go?  I looked at my watch and realized that my meter was going to run out.  Great.  How awful would it be to have rolled around on the floor, lost my car, and have a ticket?  If I ever found the car that is.  They can’t make me pay a ticket if I never found the car it was on, right?  I started to speed walk again.  And as I searched, I again passed quite a few homeless people asking me for money.  “I can’t stop,” I said, “I’m in such a rush.”  Lots of rushing for me.  But no finding.  I had worked up a little sweat actually, and still had not found my car.

I stopped in my tracks and started to think maybe I had better turn around.  And then I heard a man say, “Miss, can you help a homeless man?  Do you have any spare change even?  You look like a nice lady.”  This time I didn’t pretend not to hear him.  I didn’t tell him I was in too much of a hurry to be nice.  At that point I figured I most likely had already gotten a ticket, my meter had expired 15 minutes earlier and I still had no clue where my car was.  “Out for a walk?” He asked, probably wondering why I was just standing there.  “Nice day for it.”

“Yes.  Beautiful,” I said.  And it really was I thought, now that he’d mentioned it.  It is December.  Holiday time.  But this is L.A., so that could mean anything weather-wise.  And today, it was sunny and warm.  “Here,” I said, handing him a ten dollar bill.

“Thank you so much!” He said, “That’s very generous of you.  I knew you looked like a nice person!” He walked off and I turned and followed.  I wasn’t following him!  I just figured I’d head back the way I came.  At the next intersection the man turned left and called back, “You have a nice holiday now!”  I turned to watch him walk away, thinking to myself, how did he know I was behind him?  And that’s when I saw it.  My car.  No ticket.  And in Santa Monica that has to be some kind of miracle.