From Coast to Coast: Part 1

Marty and I recently celebrated our 5 year anniversary and it got me thinking of our story and how we ended up together and in Manhattan. I want to remember it all when I'm old and forgetful so I'm going to try out posting it here in a series.

Part I

It was 2001 and was my first semester involved with the Theatre Reperatory in college. Not my first semester in college, but my first semester actually going. I really liked the "idea" of college with the books and supplies, getting coffees, and walking around on a campus being a college student, but actual college just hadn't agreed with me. After a year long hiatus where I had toured with a dance/colorguard team, spent the summer in Montana, taken colorguard teaching jobs here and there, and dyed my hair a horrible jet black color, I was back in school.

It was time to get serious and start doing what I was born to do: Act. I'd been told since childhood that I should be an actress and I had grand dreams of being the next Meryl Streep. Thinking it would be easy, I was blinded by being 22 years old and being pathetically naive. I enrolled in a theatre 101 class and got a very healthy slap of reality. Having to go up in front of the class was the worst torture I'd ever been through. By the end of the first hour I was covered in nervous sweat and glancing a the door every 2 seconds. I wanted to run, get the hell away from these people. I was insecure and stressed. This wasn't at all the easy road to stardom I had imagined.

I thought that I would be more confident the next class. I wasn't. I was paired up with Jennifer. She was cute and blond and skinny which made me feel even more shy and uneasy. My black hair made me look like a wannabe goth and was not the shiny blue/black exotic feature I'd been planning. I felt like a loser. A non-goth, pasty, bad actress, loser. We had to act out a scene using 6 specific lines, and make the action up ourselves. The lines were something like:

-I can't do this.

-Well neither can I.

-It's just not right.

-You do it.

-No.

-Ok, I'll do it.

We decided to make the scene about our family dog passing away. It went well until I forgot that I was miming holding our dead dog in my arms and dropped him on the floor and stepped on him. When I heard the snickers from classmates and a sound of disapproval from the instructor, my face turned bright red and sweat started pouring out of my armpits. I prayed the floor would crack open. I would gladly have jumped in to my fiery death. But the ground remained solid and painted black and I survived my first critique. Afterwards, Jennifer asked if I was a part of the theatre repertory. Couldn't she tell by the stellar performance I'd just given that I should never be allowed anywhere near a stage? You should check it out, she suggested. So I did.

I'm still surprised I agreed to it after the disaster of that class but, again, I was 22 and clueless of my ineptitude. That night was the repertory meeting. I arrived a good 20 minutes early and walked into the green room. Have you ever walked into a bar, or a knitting shop and as you step inside you realize that every single person in there knows each other and is now staring at you? The green room made me feel like I had just rudely stepped into their living room. Ten pairs of eyes turned to me. I stood there gaping then did the only thing my body would let me. I mumbled a Hiuhhhh sound and began stepping backwards until I'd oozed my way back out the door. Classy. 22 and classy.

Outside was almost as bad. There was a group of people sitting at a table outside smoking and laughing. All seemed very familiar with each other, and there was me with a stupid smile on my face trying to fit in. I pulled out a cigarette and took a few jerky steps over to join them. I stood just far enough away to be creepy, and as I sucked in a breath of delicious smoke and exhaled it, my body tensed to flee to my car. I was sure that there was some reason I should leave. Caught up in all the excuses I was making to bail, I didn't notice anyone walking over to me until I was being patted on the head like a golden retriever. Someone was petting my head. I turned quickly to see who was touching me and standing there was a goofy looking guy with big eyes and a big smile. He declared, "You're new."

That's how I met Frank. I later learned that Frank adopts all the new girls and pets them. He made me feel welcome and for that I'll always be grateful. We chit chatted and he told me that he bet I was a good actress. I took an immediate liking to him. With the new confidence of knowing someone in the crowd now in place, I went back into the green room and into the theatre to find a seat in the back corner. The room was chaos. So many talking loudly, laughing, being "theatre people". My stomach turned over and over in the face of so many dramatic people and I scanned the room a little desperately. Frank was sitting down in the front and gave me a big smile and a wave, which I happily returned. It would be ok.

In the middle of the room was an older man, with white hair discussing something with another man. They looked like teachers going over something so when they yelled for everyone to quiet down and take a seat I wasn't surprised. The older one, I learned, was Rick and he started the meeting. After a few announcements about upcoming shows, he had the other man take over saying, "Marty is going to tell you about the play he's directing and what he needs."....to be continued.