It was one of those years. Those years when getting any kind of acting job was near impossible. It was the early 90’s and I was singing in nightclubs trying not wear the same thing every Friday night while roomfuls of patrons yelled out requests between the sounds of body blows and cat calls.

It was a charming existence.

I tried not complain though. After all, I wasn’t working at MacDonalds and I wasn’t scrubbing someone else’s toilets. Not that I looked down on people who did those things to earn a living, I was just thankful it wasn’t me.

But I wanted to a play. I wanted to get back to rehearsal and speak text and piss of my director and have lunch on a table in the afternoon and watch wayward chorus boys warm up. I missed the theatre.

And then I got an audition for a very fancy theatre with a very fancy New York director in a very fancy Shakespeare play. The play was “Twelfth Night”. I met my wife doing “Twelfth Night” so I had a very special affinity for this play. I would have taken any role and gladly.

I got myself together, read the sides my agent sent over to me, and showed up a half hour early for my fancy audition at my fancy theatre with the fancy director. I tried to look as fancy as possible as well. I was in a skirt with a flouncy Shakespeare-like blouse that had Shakespeare-like sleeves that flapped in the wind. I tried running down the hallway a couple of times just to see if I could indeed get them to flap.

They flapped.

As I drove to the theatre I spoke. Loudly. To myself. I spoke out loud about my fears, my angst, my terror, my hope. I rehearsed my text. I tried to get Maria (the saucy wench of the play) into my body and back into my Heart. I spoke about that as well. To me.

I still do this, only now I have a camera so I can film it and put it on You Tube.

I arrive at the fancy theatre very early and walked through the massive, very heavy swinging glass doors. I walked up to the auditor sitting tucked away behind her desk, and signed my name.

“Do you have sides?” she asked in a very, very, very hushed voice.

“I do.” I said back to her just as hushed.

I wasn’t quite sure why everything was so secret. I realized there were actors in the same room, but it was huge room, and it’s not like they weren’t used to the sound of a human voice. They were actors, not amoebas.

“Oh.Good. Well….you can have a seat over there.” She said even quieter.

“Okey-dokey.” I whispered back. “Oh…” I said, barely able to hear myself. “…how long do you think I have?”

She checked her watch, and now, since we really couldn’t hear each other very well, she began to over enunciate every single word, this time, with no sound whatsoever coming out of her mouth, Just small puffs of air and an occasional consonant.

“I…..Think….You’ll……Go…..Up….In…About…..10……Minutes.”

I paused because I couldn’t think of what else to do.

“……………………………….k.” I said.

I walked over to the long red couch that was placed by the doorway into the theatre, and I sat down. There were about a half a dozen others actors there, all sitting, some mumbling, some on their phones (which made me nuts) and some staring blankly off into space. Being at an audition is somewhat parallel to being in the waiting room of a mental hospital. It’s as if we were all waiting for our daily medication. Thumping, pacing, rocking, talking to no one, and sometimes, gesturing madly to a potted fern.

I couldn’t sit. I was too nervous. I needed to go outside and smoke.

I walked outside, lit up, and stood next to a mid thirties, attractive brunette. We smiled at each other, each pretending we didn’t immediately want the other drowned in a vat of boiling snails.

“Hi.” She said sweetly.

“Hi.”

“Nervous?” she asked.

“Terrified. I think I peed a little.” I said smiling.

“Oh yeah…you do look a little…well….odd.”

I froze.

I did?

I looked odd? Odd in what way? In what way odd?

“Really?” I asked riddled with paranoia.

“Well, no..I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. It’s just that…well, maybe it’s me. I didn’t know we were dressing up in a costume.”

She then put her cigarette out, and walked back into the lobby.

I stood there frozen. My flounc-ey blouse now seemed dated and droopy. Was I in a costume? I just thought maybe I’d put on a little something to help me get somewhere. Apparently, that somewhere turned out to be K Mart.

As I walked back into the lobby, the middle aged woman was now sitting next to some poor 20-something girl dissecting her headshot in a whispered voice.

“Oh no, really? Well…what about this one??” the poor girl would ask puling headshots out her bag at an alarming rate.

“Oh no. I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I…I probably shouldn’t have said anything…”

“Alexandra?” came a booming voice from the auditor. It was such a jolt, I jumped back about 2 feet and almost at the top of my voice I yelped:

“WHAT?!”

Everyone jerked. Everyone had a collective lobotomy. And I could have sworn that the girl on the cell phone farted a little.

“You’re on.” She then whispered for no reason whatsoever..

“Oh?” I whispered back, “…how’m I doin’?”

Silence.

I gathered my stuff in one hand, and re-flounced myself.

I walked into the theatre, and clomped down the stairs on to the massive stage, It was about 500 seats, and an enormous space. I couldn’t see a soul. Usually when you walk through the door, someone at least says hi, or takes your 8x10, or shakes your hand. There was nothing. Emptiness. But it was strange. I knew something was about to happen. As if it was a Planned Emptiness. I stood on the stage for a moment in total silence, and then finally said a meek:

“Hello?” to the air.

From the top of the theatre a disembodied female voice came ringing through the back row and directly into my chest.

“What role do you havvvvvve?”

The last part of almost every sentence sounded as though she was talking into a cavern. Although it was her making her own echo. It was literally the strangest thing I’d ever heard in my life.

“I….I have Maria.” I said trying to pin point the voice.

“Oh good. Let’s start from the top-p-p-p. Shall weeeee?”

I couldn’t get past the self made echo, but I pressed on. I read the scene and afterward there was more silence. I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, back into my car, and home into my bed with the covers over me, in the fetal position with a tub of Hagan Daas and a small shovel.

“Good. Now….let’s try it again, and this time, I want you to hug the pole-le-le-le-le.”

“You want me to hug the pole?”

“Hug it-t-t-t.”

I tried to rely on my Viewpoint training and just go with this stuff, and say yes, and be open to all the possibilities. So…I did it again, and I hugged the pole by the lip of the stage and spoke my Shakespeare.

“Good. Now…I’d like you to do it againnnn, and this time, sing it-t-t.”

“Sing it?”

I was stuck in repetition.

“Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.” She hissed.

I did it again to the tune of “Over the Rainbow”. It was the only song I could think of at the time.

“Good. Now…one more time, and this time…I’d like you to Be The Wind-d-d.”

I could have repeated “Be The Wind?” but what would have been the point? I now needed an explanation.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means.” I said.

Silence.

“Hello?” I asked out onto the darkness.

Then, I heard a ruffle of paper, and some footsteps coming down out of the heavens. As she approached, I saw a huge brown turban, a long checkered scarf wrapped up enough to covered everything but her grey eyes, and a long fuzzy mohair coat with arms and black socking-ed stick legs.

I was auditioning for Chewbacca.

“I mean…get free. Be free-e-e. Let yourself go. Be WITH yourself. Don’t stop. Like the Wind. GO! GO! GO-O-O-O-!”

She kept echoing herself. I stood there, 5 feet away from her, and she kept echoing herself. I honestly couldn’t get over it. I was so frightened, and so confused, I then began running around in circles flailing my arms and saying as many pieces of the text that I could remember. I tired to pick Gestures, Shapes, Tempos, any Viewpoint that would remotely remind me of the wind. I tried to get my blouse to flounce but I kept hearing the woman outside. I tried skipping, but then I thought: “Does the wind skip?” I even slithered on the ground while singing “Over The Rainbow” and made my way toward the pole. I thought if I just put a little bit of everything in, she might stop echoing. I was doing so much, and so little was happening, I then began to crack up. I laughed, I sweated, I tore the bottom of my skirt on the pole, and I went into a little bit of “Just in Time”. As I was in the middle of my Frances Farmer meltdown, she screamed at me:

“Now! BE the Wind-d-d! BE the WIND-D-D!!!!”

I stopped. I stood in the middle of the stage, my flounces dripping with sweat, my hair hanging over my eyes, and my ankles pulsating from running 3 miles on a bare stage.

I had enough.

I walked up to her, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and said:

“YOU be the wind, sister. I’m finished.”

I picked up my bags, walked out of the theatre, and through the doors, and as the middle aged woman was standing next to yet another unsuspecting victim, telling her how sorry she was, I gathered myself.

“How did it go?” she asked, snickering.

“Oh. Really well. She’s a genius.” I said, half out of breath.

She smiled. And then I turned to her and said as plainly as I could:

“Oh and by the way…..you look fat.”

“Maureen?!!” the auditor screamed from inside.

The woman froze, held her script in her hand, and told her feet to go.

As I got into my car, I took a deep breath, tried my best to collect myself, and then proceeded to drive to the nearest MacDonalds and chow down on a #1 with a chocolate shake. And you know what? As I sat there in the parking lot munching on my fries. I WAS the wind.