Auditioning on the fly

I should begin by explaining that I hate going to auditions. I don’t hate actually auditioning, but rather sitting in the hallway waiting to be called, surrounded by other actors. As a side bar: actors are strange human beings that seem to suffer from varied sorts of mental shortcomings and are given to chain smoking feverishly as they pace the hallways. I often wonder while staring at them, what form for psychiatric hospital, rehab center or jail they would be sitting in, if they had not found the seductive nature of theater at some earlier point in their lives.

Women tend to favor the black in low-cut “V” neck sweaters that show the full capacity of their endowment as permitted by the laws of public exposure. Men tend to be these waif-like figures who wear jeans that also show their endowment to the best of their capacity often augmented by whatever artificial means available.

Both tend to find it a primary obligation to psyche up the competition. This is done in several ways such as practicing their audition songs in the hallway, and displaying what they believe to be their exceptional vocal capabilities which in reality falls somewhere between average and sub-par. Both practice their monologues “quietly” to themselves which often is nothing more than a poor excuse for pantomime. And then there are those despicable creatures that engage the competition in conversation often highlighting how they are nervous to audition; how they hate auditioning; how they don’t believe they are any good, and the like. These are the same ones with professional head shots complete with printed names on the front and full resume in the back. They are also the ones that had the lead for the last few productions and assume their diva roles in full capacity without much difficulty when off the stage.

I for my part, try to dress as professional as possible, as if attending a business meeting, and I bring with me a book that has nothing whatsoever to do with theater in the hopes to be passed over by my acting colleagues. I try to read it quietly while waiting for my turn to audition. And I avoid eye contact and talking to the natives under all circumstances possible.

And so on this occasion, when I was my turn to enter the audition room, I sang a song that showed I had the ability to hit the appropriate notes and recited my monologue which displayed my propensity towards accents. I left the theater feeling relieved that the audition was over and satisfied with my performance having done a fairly competent job in my estimation and not worrying at all if I even got a part.

But, when I got home I noticed that I had neglected to confirm that my trousers were properly zipped up. It seems that although the top button was secured, my zipper was not. As so, ladies and gentlemen; I had auditioned with my fly open. Do you think that will leave a lasting impression? So now forevermore, I will be remembered to this group of people, as the girl who was competent at accents but not zipping her pants.