We all walked onto the wooden part of the floor. I made a beeline to the back. No way am I going to look like an idiot in front of all these people.
There were two other gentlemen who went to the back with me. One was named Ed, and the other was Cleve. I was right between them and asked if they’d ever done this before. They both told me they’d been in lots of plays.
So much for hiding with these guys—they knew what they were doing and I was going to look foolish.
The lady up front spoke to us for a couple of minutes; then started the music. She began showing us the initial steps of a number—probably six to eight moves at a time.
My mind was saying yes, yes, yes, but my feet were saying,
“No way fool! What the heck are you trying to make me do here?”
Of course, everyone seemed to be picking the steps up quickly, so I just kept going. After a few minutes, it began to make sense. I surely didn’t look like the ballerinas on the front row, but I began to at least go in the right direction when I was supposed to.
This torture kept on for about 15 to 20 minutes. (Okay, it really wasn’t torture; I had a smile on my face the whole time. But as a “male” I’m not supposed to admit that! Man rules, and all that!)
I can actually say that I began to enjoy it. They watched us for a while and you could see them making their choices.
When we finished, they marched us down to another part of the building and into another room.
Uh-oh! There’s a piano in the room, and a nice looking lady with a big smile on her face. We all went in. I stood against the wall wondering what the heck I was going to do.
(Stop the music! I can’t sing. Period! I’m not trying to sound humble here. I really can’t carry a tune. People laugh at me, or at least I think they do. I was in choir at the church we went to when I was in elementary school, but things began changing around the age of 12 or 13. You could literally give me singing lessons for the next ten years, and at best—I’d be average. I do sing at church, but there are usually about 500 of my closest friends also singing with me, which tends to drown my voice out. I’m okay with that. So singing is totally out of my comfort zone!!!)
So I’m standing there watching what everybody else is doing. Out of their bags, they’re grabbing CD’s with the music that they’re going to sing to. A few wanted to be accompanied on the piano. Many had sheet music with words to sing.
I’ve got nothing.
So we start in order; #1, #2, #3, etc. All the time, I’m standing there sweating bullets. The only song I know by heart is “Happy Birthday,” and I don’t do that very well.
I’m quite sure that the first two were graduates of the Julliard School of Music in New York City. I think the next three were original cast members of the hit TV series, Glee!
One of the younger ladies, sang a song a cappella while reading the words off of her IPhone. She was really good, and it was a nice song. (Side note: I wasn’t quite sure what a cappella meant until she said it!)
I reached down to grab my phone and find a song, then realized that I’d left it home as I rushed out of the door.
They finally got to my number and I walked up front. The lady asked me what I was going to sing, and I told her I didn’t have a clue. I asked the young lady with the iPhone if I could use her phone and with a smile, she said yes.
I sang the song a cappella.
Then the lady said I did good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW . . .