Maybe You're Crazy

I got a call a little after I woke up - 1:30pm - from someone in the crew of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.

Apparently, they meant to call me back, but my contact sheet was stuck to the back of someone else's resume.

I had just taken my synthroid, and I planned on waiting around for an hour until my stomach settled for lunch. But this was for a play - something to do, a reason to interact with people. I was waiting for this.

So I got dressed while listening to Tears For Fears, went down to the student center - which is really just a hallway in which every door is always locked - and knocked on the last door. The girls behind the table invited me in and apologized profusely for the short notice. I absolved them, and read over the scenes.

I had never read nor seen Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, but from the scenes I was looking over, it seemed like an incredible play to be in, and I became rather excited. After the all-female crew - including the EVERYONE LOVES AN ITALIAN GIRL t-shirt-wearing director - gave the all-male entourage a rundown of the show, callbacks proceeded.

By which I mean three guys that the director thought was funny read all the parts while I sat and watched like a putz.

Actually, I did stand in for Guildenstern in one scene. He had no lines.

And then, after two hours, we were done. I waited a moment to see if anyone was going to apologize to me for wasting my time. No one did.

I went to Wendy's, sat in the back across from four kids playing ska aloud on speakers, and played Phoenix Wright. I'm on the last case already. It's kind of disappointing.

Everything is disappointing.