This is a true story. No names or places or facts have been changed, although they probably should be to protect the innocent but let's face it, I'm writing a blog. There are few things I won't share.
It starts many years ago, back when I was a young girl of 10. I was young and ambitious and destined to be a star. My thoughts were consumed with visions of dresses and cameras and Oscars. Twenty-four hours a day. So I did what any young girl would do, I signed up for all the things my elementary school had to offer.
Soon I was taking part in everything from the chorus productions to helping out at parent-teacher conference night to the ever elusive, school plays. I LIVED for these plays. We did musicals and comedies and plays made up by the students involved in the drama classes. I had never felt more at home. Just standing there, front and center, with a bright light on only me. It was what I imagined Heave would be like.
And then it was announced we would have a Christmas musical that we'd put on three times. Twice for other students and once for all parents right before Christmas break. This was my chance to really step up and show everyone what I was born to do. Then the audition process began. What started as a group of 15-20 girls twiddled down to five, then to three, and finally it was between myself and another girl.
Some snotty blonde girl who had perfectly curled hair that was held back with a big bow that matched her outfit every day. The kind of girl that I'm sure grew up to be some sort of Victoria's Secret model with the drive of Rachel Berry (from Glee, duh), only a few notches down on the annoying meter. This girl and I had fought it out for every role to date and it was pretty even til this point. However, with this being the Big Christmas Play, I was not about to let this girl take MY role.
Final auditions where held in our individual chorus classes but Curly Sue and I were in the same class. I'm pretty sure you could feel the tension between us when you walked into that classroom. I took my seat in the back row of the risers (I did have a nice height advantage over her, ha) and shot daggers in the back of her head while the teacher called roll. After roll call and a few announcements, it was FINALLY time to get started. Curly Sue went first and I gotta tell you, she was good. Damn good. She got all her lines right, hit the right notes and smiled through the whole damn thing. And to top it all off, her minions applauded for her when she was done. To say I was worried would have been the understatement of my life (at that point, anyways).
"Meaghan." My teacher called. I swallowed, wiped my clammy hands on my jean skirt and made my way down the riser staircase.
"When you're ready."
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and opened my mouth.
It was like I was possessed by Julie Andrews or something. I sang perfectly, I was animated and funny, I moved around the front of the room and interacted with other students. I was on fire. There was nothing standing in my way.
Two days later, the role was handed to me along with my script. Not only did I get cast as the lead female part, I was the first to be on stage, the first speaking lines and I had a solo. Life couldn't have been better. I could see the Oscar in my hands.
The first to productions for the rest of the school were flawless. I was untouchable. I WAS the play. The crowd loved me and I loved them. All was right in the world. As great as it was performing in front of the student body, I was dying for parents night.
(side note: at this point of my life, my father was working in North Carolina while my mother, sister and myself were still living in Florida.)
The days leading up to the play, my mom was so excited to videotape the show for my dad to see when he got home the following week. We had it all planned out where she would stand and the cute little wave I would do to let her know that I saw her. Even my grandparents were going to be there!
Showtime comes around, I've got my costume on, my hair looks great, a little bit of make up (come on now, I was 10! A little blush never hurt anyone), my shiny black shoes bounced the light off of them. This was my moment.
I'm standing behind the curtain, the stage lights are off and I'm counting down. Five, the auditorium lights turn off, four, the parents and family members start clapping, three, the curtain opens up, two, I take a deep breath, one, the spotlight hits me.
I delivered my lines like my life depended on it. It was everything I had hoped it would be. (I guess I should say, the premise of the play was a group of kids who are starved for Christmas and wanted more than anything for it to come. The stage was bare with just the chorus risers and it was our job, the actors, to decorate the stage. We had a tree with lights and presents and wreaths and garland to hang all while singing 'We need a little Christmas'. It was my job to hang the garland across the edge of the stage. This required me coming OFF the stage and INTO the audience to do so. It was everything I asked for, to be front and center with my adoring fans).
So the song breaks out and I hurry from backstage to the floor, grab the garland and start to string it along. I'm singing and dancing and being the very best Julie Andrews I could be. Hell, I'm pretty sure I thought I was her.
Until I got to the next to last rung. There was maybe a foot of garland left to hang, right at the middle of the stage and no rung to be found. I searched frantically for it, all while singing and keeping my happy face on but inside, inside I was screaming for help. I looked everywhere for that rung but couldn't find it and had no choice but to leave it hanging there. Like a limp piece of sparkling string. I held back tears as I walked past the people in the front row, praying no one would notice (it was hard not to. It was gold garland that shone in the lights). It was just as I got to the end of the row did I notice a group of fellow students who were sitting with their parents.
Pointing and laughing. At me. Because I was the only person on stage to managed to fail their assigned decorating task.
For the remainder of the play, I stayed hidden and didn't even give half of what I had been giving before the garland disaster. I was mortified but pushed through. By the end of the show, I was feeling better and had almost forgotten about the whole, terrible thing until my final bow.
Those boys from the front row were now standing in front of the stage, mimicking my vain attempt to find the rung. And laughing.
To this day, I have an annihilating and crippling fear of stage fright and public speaking.
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