When I filled out the form at the audition I went to a couple of weeks ago, I checked yes to the question, “Would you like to help in some other capacity?” I figured it might be fun, and I’d probably be attending anyway so why not help out.
There were a few risks with this. One, the organizer wanted me to work the front door, which is always challenging when an event sells out. Second, I only knew the organizer. I went to this event knowing that most of the people participating probably knew one another, and guests would probably either be attending with someone or would know someone in the show. I would be alone though.
While working the front door was crazy, the rest of the event went really well. I was able to meet some cool people and here some great stories. And when most of the audience and performers decided to gather at a nearby bar, I thought I’d join too.
When I went to the bar, I figuring I would have one drink, schmooze a little, and then head home. At 11:30pm, I said goodbye to the organizer, who basically told me, “Oh hell no!” and bought me another drink. The hours slowly dwindled into Sunday. Around 1am, when I finished my second drink, one of the other organizers put another drink in front of me. I continued to schmooze, and then the lights came on. It was 3am; the bar was closing.
I’m an old lady. I can barely keep my eyes open past midnight. I couldn’t believe that I had stayed awake. (I use to get tired and fall asleep anywhere. No, really; I would fall asleep sitting up in a loud bar with music blaring, or at a party in the middle of a conversation. It was always pretty embarrassing, but also hilarious.) The fact that I also managed to have engaging conversations, put myself out there, and meet new people shocks me.
A good friend called me Saturday and asked, “Do you want to help me garden?”
“Sure,” I said, figuring it would be a good workout.
“Um, so I have an idea I want to try,” she slyly slipped in. “There are these rocks, and I really want to break them and use them as a border. You don’t have to help me but…”
“Why not?” I replied all chipper-like.
My friend started us out, picking up one of the “rocks” and dropping it on top of another. It broke in two. “Nice,” we both said in unison.
I got in on the aggression relieving, pseudo-therapy too, picking up blocks and slamming them down on top of others.
We even took the action into the alley at one point. Pieces were flying everywhere. One huge chunk nearly took me out at the knees. Luckily both my friend and I came out of the fun unharmed, and with an awesome end product: