The door radiated with Southern Utah heat. It was more than just a door, however, but more of a portal, transporting me from red sandstone beauty to a drab hallway, brightly lit, but still duller than the beating sun. The smell, musty and hot, failed to calm my nerves, and the hundreds of desperate people did nothing to help that situation either. It was an odd experience for me walking into my first audition outside of my small town atmosphere. Knowing the people behind the casting table would not be the familiar faces of my fellow neighbors and friends nearly sent my nerves over the edge.

There I stood, a short chubby eleven year old boy ready to take on the world of professional theatre. My naivety convinced myself that I was “broadway ready”--how little did I know! As I wandered through the densely packed hallways I brushed past all of the Equity Actors, they would smile at me or make comments such as, “Oh you are so adorable!” or, “You are the cutest little boy,” but I did not let that get to my head. I had a goal in mind, and I was going to get it.

Clenching my latest headshot in one hand and resume in the other, I made my way up to the call table that lingered near the back of the hallway. I had never done this before, but I hoped no one else could see that. The people at the table rushed around frantically, moving about as if every moment of their lives were a neverending tragedy. Everything was obviously not on schedule, and nothing annoys casting agents more than running late! Trying to figure out what I should be doing without actually admitting I didn’t know everything proved difficult, but that struggle could really be considered the theme of my childhood. One of the ladies behind the table took a slight break from the madness and handed me a paper.

Sitting down on the threadbare carpet I proceeded to fill out the extensive application; I couldn’t help but compare it to the ones at the doctor’s office. It asked all sorts of questions such as height, weight, and age. My roaming mind, however, made these ever so simple questions feel like trudging through the mud. The caffeine-buzzed management team returned, this time with clipboards in hand. They yelled out our names, one at a time, pulling each person out of the overcrowded hallway.

As I sat there desperate for my name to be called, I couldn’t help but start to feel unsettled, almost as if I had lost myself. My stomach started to drop, and suddenly I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. My mind began to question, “Was coming here even worth it? Am I what they are looking for? Is this really what I want?” As I struggled with the internal battle raging inside my head I watched as person after person walked into the room. Some unfazed by the tension spread so strongly through the mass of people, while others passed by me with faces so white I had to remind myself that the dead can’t walk. I started to shake as my name was called, not wanting to go. In fact, I wanted to disappear, just get up and run away, leaving my fears and worries right where I sat on the matted down floor. “It would be so easy,” I thought to myself. “No one would even need to know, no one would know, but I would.” I vividly remember the feelings I had as it all boiled up inside of me. Leaving was not an option.

The only choice I could possibly accept would be to escape my comfort zone and prove to myself that I could do it. They called my name--emotions blew like a whirlwind, all my muscles tensed-- I knew what I needed to do. After taking a few seconds to clear my head, I waltzed right through those doors. It was showtime.
After a very descriptive explanation of my arrangement to the pianist, I approached the white X in the middle of the ballroom. As I made my journey across the wooded floor, my feet sent echos around the mirrored room. I reached my destination and smiled at the long grey table of businessmen, whom I ignorantly presumed to be a bonded force against me. The accompanist started tapping her fingers up and down, but the music that came out did not resemble the familiar tune I had chosen to sing! The pianist continued to play, repeating the same few measures again and again. My head rushed, and I did not know what to do. I began to question myself again. “Why am I doing this? It is not supposed to be like this, they should just let me sing.” Then something clicked… just sing!

Not having the slightest clue where the pianist was, I began to sing. Even though my head flew clear into space, my voice became my reason. It told my story through the present frustrations and my interminable passion. I opened up a door to my potential. I left myself open, allowing the the agents a glimpse inside, showing my true self, who I was, and who I can become. I felt in control of all the emotion in the room. No one could stop me, not even the piano that seemed to halt on a ringing chord. For that brief moment in time I found myself on the big stage, the broadway star I always knew I could be.

Looking back at myself going through these stages of learning, I realize how far I have come, and how much this single event genuinely changed my life. No, I did not get the part, obviously, but what I took from that audition became much more than just experience. This event solidified my passion for theatre. Every time I feel as if my abilities have plateaued, I look back on that moment and it lifts me up again.  I know my desires for theatre in the future, and it is clear to me that the decisions I made on that day, so many years ago, have kept me performing. Knowing there is an innate desire to perform within me, I can face any challenge, by always reminding myself that quitting is not an option. Learning that amazing adventures can occur, even if things do not go as expected, has allowed me to take the world on by consistently placing myself in uncomfortable situations such as auditions or even new classes where I feel vulnerable. Digging deep alowed me to see my aspirations, and whatever happens on the surface, I know that I can stay true to my dreams.