Why I Auditioned for a Play

As a child, I dreamed of becoming a Hollywood A-list actor. This dream has not yet come to fruition. But last week, a friend messaged me to ask if I wanted to audition for a play at the Ottawa Little Theater. A play about bees. And while I have taken several acting classes, I was previously too self-conscious to audition for a serious play. This time, I didn't care—I had long since given up on that particular dream. Thus, with my newfound Mark Manson-esque attitude of not giving a f*ck, I replied, "Why not!"

Soon though, this magical blitheness gave way to cold feet. However, I'd already told people—ones I was trying to impress—that I was going to audition for a play, so there was no backing out. Anyway, my friend was going, too, so I was in good company. Or so I'd thought...

We arrived, filled out our audition cards, and took our seats in the auditorium. The auditions started (we were slated for round two; the first round had only female roles). Some of these actors were so good that they'd give Judi Dench a run for her money. My friend looked at me and said, "I'm leaving." And he did! He just got up and walked out.

I did the mental math: I too should walk out. But I immediately thought of the people I was trying to impress; thus, walking out was impossible. I was also woefully unprepared; save for some solid acting advice from ChatGPT ("Do NOT use your Lincoln Lawyer accent"), I was going in cold.

But I did it. I read my lines. The director yelled, "SPEAK UP!" It was bad, but not that bad, I suppose, once I'd addressed the volume issue. I returned to my seat in the auditorium and watched with increasing dismay the other A-list prospects crush their lines. I decided that now was the time, and now was the last time, that I would be able to leave with my dignity intact. When there was a break in the action, I approached the director and thanked her for the opportunity. Then I said I didn't think I was a good fit for the role. She was very nice about it; she said that I looked much too young for the character. (This could make for a great Oil of OLAY commercial...) She then told me that there would be some nice age-appropriate roles for next month's auditions, and invited me back.

I'm already thinking about going back—but only to watch the play. I envision myself watching an older looking gentleman crush his lines, and thinking, One day, that will be me.