Tap Step Right. Tap Step Left.

On Monday I went to an audition for Nice Work if You Can Get it. 

I owed it to my fans.

You see, it's been a while since I last appeared on the Town Theatre stage, playing the role of Mi Ho, the sexy prostitute who upstaged all the other Hos in Miss Saigon.  

Although the part I was auditioning for in Nice Work did not require dancing, I brought along my tap shoes.  I wanted the director to recognize my triple threat-ness.

After the vocal auditions, the director (let's call her "Shannon") called us up to the stage for some choreography.  I enthusiastically grabbed my tap shoes and joined the others on stage.

At this point, I'd like to provide you with a demographic profile of the other auditioners.  

(I'm a nerd.  Give me a break.)

Eighty-three percent were female and the median age was 21.5 years.  Every last one was stinkin' adorable and they all had perfect teeth.

And posture.

Shannon joined us on stage and began to teach the routine.

Now, I took 2 years of adult tap several years back.  And we learned routines like this: Shuffle step right.  Shuffle step left.  Shuffle step right.  Shuffle step left.  After a few weeks we advanced to shuffle hop step.

We actually performed in a recital at the Koger Center.  We were the only adults performing in a showcase with approximately 87 different dance numbers performed by thousands of children. 

All of whom were more advanced than we were.

For weeks after that recital I would be stopped at work by people asking, "Did I see you...?"  It was so embarrassing disruptive I had to wear a disguise.

I digress.

Back to the choreography.  Shannon said, "Everybody ready?"

"You bet!" I said enthusiastically.

"A-one-two-three double shuffle, leap - hop shuffle, flap, heel click, pullback pank right one-two double toe punch.  Got it?"

I looked around.  Hovering in the shadows upstage, not unlike flashers in a dark alley, were the non-tappers.  I casually took a few steps in their direction.

Shannon looked at us and said, "Here's the non-tap version for those of you not tapping.  A-one-two-three double shuffle, leap - hop shuffle, flap, jump, pullback pank right one-two double toe punch.  Got it?"

"Sure!" I said as I started my shuffle step right.  Shuffle step left.  Hop. 

Those damn tappers were tapping so loudly I couldn't concentrate!!!

Then I had an idea. 

If I could just make my tap shoes tap IN TIME... I might be able to fool Shannon.  Because I've got amazing rhythm (for a middle aged white woman).  It would be just like playing drums!

Then I realized that I wasn't wearing my tap shoes.  I had accidentally brought my character shoes that look exactly like tap shoes without the taps.  

OMG!  How could I play tap drums without my tap shoes?

Shannon must have read my mind.  She announced that if you're smiling really big, the audience will not even notice your feet.

She then split us into groups of 4 to perform.  And I put the on biggest, goofy-ass grin I could muster and started tapping like I knew what the hell I was doing.  

We ended the routine by throwing our arms up in the air.

(My ending was so good I need to see a Chiropractor.)

As I made my way off the stage I decided to really impress Shannon.  So I did a little pull back pank right and landed in the splits.  

I didn't really.  

There was no need to upstage all those twenty-somethings.
 

The Note

The director's note was shocking.  Scandalous.  Audacious.

For those of you unfamiliar with theatre, notes are directors' feedback to actors following a rehearsal.   

Things like, "Frank, raise your leg higher in the kick line."  And "Lou, your wig was on upside down in the wedding scene."

But this particular note was disgraceful.  Downright demeaning.

"Shirley, make sure you don't hike your boobs up too high.  They were getting pushed out of the corset and all I could stare at were your boobs popping over the top. Yes, they are nice, but I want to listen to your words in Movie in My Mind."

If I'd gotten such a note I would have crawled into my armpit.  Without passing Go.

(That being said, it would be quite unlikely for me to ever receive such a note.  A more likely note would have been, "Lou, make sure your boobs are not too low.  I see them slipping beneath your corset.  Tie those girls in place.  They are not nice.")

Shirley, on the other hand, did not crawl into her armpit.  

She loved the director's note so much she made it into a song.  To the tune of Movie in My Mind.

Shirley is amazing.

So amazing I decided that she must make a guest appearance in Notes From A Nerdling.   

And here it is: Shirley's Song 

I'm so impressed, that I've invited Shirley to the next meeting of the Nerdling Honor Society.

She'd better not dress like a slut.  

I have a reputation to protect.

 
    

Finding My Inner Goose

One would think that I would be a natural Goose Stepper.

I mean, for crying out loud! I am an original member of the world famous First Wisconsin Precision Brief Case Drill Team. 

But at Miss Saigon rehearsal today, it appeared as if I had lost my goose step. 

And it was nowhere to be found. 

Of course, our choreographer made the goose steps a bit more complicated than just swinging legs high off the ground while marching. And, at the risk of tarnishing Tracy's unblemished reputation, I believe he consumed one too many Mad Bulls while choreographing that chaos.

It was NOTHING like my First Wisconsin Precision Brief Case Drill Team days. 

We were celebrities of sorts, back in the late 80's, entertaining thousands of fans as we performed in parades and festivals. What's not to love about a bunch of bankers wearing suits, carrying plastic brief cases, and executing "intricate" routines (without hurting ourselves)? 

We were stinkin' rock stars. 

I still get shivers when I recall the audience reaction to our Pinwheel routine. And our Reverse Inward March? Amazing. But it was the Wall Street Journal routine which brought tears to the eyes of our frenzied fans. 

Craig, our drill captain, would whistle 3 times. Like a well oiled machine, we would place our brief cases on the street, open them, pull out our newspapers and return to a standing position. To the beat of a drum, we would open our newspapers, look up and down the left side, then the right side. Then, in unison, we would shout "Market's up."  We would return the newspaper to the brief cases, the whistle would blow 3 times, and we would march on. 

The audiences loved us. 

Sadly, Tracy's choreography does not involve newspapers. Nor are there any pinwheels. 

Instead, Tracy's goose steps require synchronized lunging. 

He also taught us his own version of the Reverse Inward March. I got my hands on his choreography notes. Here's what it looks like:
 

But I haven't given up.

Rome was not built in a day.

I just have to brush off my goose step skills. All I have to do is watch my, "The Making of the First Wisconsin Precision Drill Team" video over and over again.

With practice I am confident. 
I will get my goose back.


I wonder if Tracy would mind if I carried a plastic brief case in Miss Saigon.  For some reason, my gooses geese look better when I'm carrying it.