Stage Fright

His blood began to warm as he stepped out of the car and onto the concrete of the wide, almost empty parking lot. An unusually hot day, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and shook his hand dry. He decided to contribute his warming blood to the heat. As he approached the heavy door in the side of the large concrete building his heart skipped a beat, he shrugged it off as nothing significant, he had to convince himself that his nerves were not on the fritz.

Inside, a cacophony of voices came from throughout the building. As he listened to others practicing their lines his temperature rose, his heart began to beat faster and soon all he could hear was his footsteps as he navigated the echoing corridors. He entered the auditorium where he was to audition and couldn't help but think how he had arrived 10 minutes later than intended, there by having to park in the far parking lot, which meant it took an extra three minutes to get to the auditorium. He recalled his girlfriend's words as he walked out of the house, "A good first impression can make all the difference." So far not so good he thought, but it wasn't his fault, traffic had been backed up on the freeway due to an accident.

The auditorium was nearly packed despite today's casting being for one role. As he searched for a seat he drew his attention to all those running lines at the last minute. Only a handful of people seemed confident and were clearly just tweaking their techniques. It was obvious that they were experienced and comfortable in this environment, these were the ones that put him on edge the most, for if he made a fool of himself they would surely, without intention, make an even bigger fool of him. He now felt a tingling in his legs and feet as he stumbled past others toward a seat down an aisle fairly far from the stage.

Two seats before his, he was accidentally hit with another man's packet of lines. The man lost grip of them and they fell to the floor, floating into the aisle in front of them. The man gave him a look of surprise and disgust, as though it were not his own fault for carelessly waving his unstapled packet around. He gave the man a simple yet shakey apology, picked up a few sheets for him and continued on to his seat. Once seated, with his legs pressed together at the knees and his arms pressed against his body while his hands rested one upon the other in his lap, he gently closed his eyes and took a long deep breath, holding it in as long as he could, not opening his eyes until he had expelled all the air from his lungs.

With his eyes closed and breath held for a second time he was able to truly focus on the physical reactions of his anxiety and the task at hand. He could feel and hear the rate at which blood flowed through his veins, in harmony with his heart beat, and how that contributed to his increased temperature despite the coolness of the auditorium. He could feel the tingling and shaking of his extremities. Regardless of his relaxation technique, it was as though his mind was working against him and could sense his persistent anxiety and his thoughts began to wander. He thought about the man two seats down who was frustrated with him, 'he must be nervous too or was he always a jerk?' He thought about how and why some of the men could be so confident, he didn't understand it. He thought about the consequences should he be a complete failure. These were negative thoughts that were not helping in the slightest.

For a third time he closed his eyes and held in a deep breath. This time, however, he forced himself to think positive thoughts. 'Some experience is better than none.' he thought and should his audition not meet the standards of the casting crew he would leave knowing that he did the best he could while pushing himself outside his comfort zone. For him these were the present hallmarks of a successful audition. He could feel the tingling and shaking in his extremities receding. With his eyes still closed he took one last deep breath. His heart still beat fast, he told himself this was normal in his situation and ignored it. 

Practicing his lines in his cramped seat amidst a sea of people, the crinkled areas of the sheets of paper where his hand had sweated the most distracted him. He did his best to ignore those menacing crinkled spots, but by the will of forces unknown to him, one particularly important area was the most crinkled, so much so that it was difficult to read. His palms began to sweat and once again all he could hear was his heart beat and the shakes returned. He couldn't believe it! He wholeheartedly expected the physical manifestations of his nervousness to resurface, but the one part that he had the most trouble with over the last three weeks seemingly sabotaged, within a matter of minutes, by an unforgiving, unseen force! He was beside himself. He checked his watch, five minutes until they began calling names, his being one of the first because his last name began with 'B'.

His stomach began to churn. He closed his eyes, his face grimaced and his right hand made its way to rest on his stomach. Just then the man to his left whispered in his ear, "Acting is reacting." He looked at the man and saw reassurance in his eyes. The casting director did say they were looking for someone bold, perhaps they were indirectly looking for someone that could improvise. This could play to his strengths, he always was good on the fly. The man to the left offered him the clean sheet he needed, his anxiety dwindled and he spent the last few minutes going over those lines. The lights flickered off then back on again. Even if he wasn't one of the top contenders this would still be a personal success.