It's October. I'm eighteen. I have 2 garbage bags full of clothes and few personal items packed in my blue 89' Chevy S10. My cat Paige is sitting on top of the seat bathing in the sun as I drive away from my tiny town in MI for the glitz and glam of Las Vegas. Everyone had their bets in as to when I would call home crying and turn around to come home. I couldn't help but laugh at them because I knew that was never going to happen. I was tougher than they thought and I was out to prove it.
I arrived in the shiny city after midnight three days later. I was exhausted from sleeping in my truck for two nights since I wanted to save money. After all I only had $800 to create my life 2000 miles away from home. Luckily I had already paid for my first months rent for the apartment I was now trying to find.
As I drove up to my new home and took a look around I realized it wasn't in the best of areas. The woman I spoke to over the phone a month earlier clearly lied to me to get the sale. Since I didn't have the keys yet I had to sleep one more night in the parking lot. This time in the ghetto.
Fast forward... I have been living there almost two months. I was lucky enough to find a job right away at a metaphysical bookstore called the Psychic Eye where I set up appointments for the Phychic's and did retail for the store. I only made $5.75 an hour but I loved it. I studied a lot and left every day smelling like Nag Champa incense.
I was running out of money fast and my job wasn't cutting it. It was time to get into action with why I had come here. In the mean time I was starving, surviving on ritz crackers with peanut butter and jelly and Ramen Noodles. Of course, I was too proud to ask for help. I had no idea how to find auditions since the newspaper was clearly not it considering all the "performer" jobs in the classifieds were for a different kind of dancer if you know what I mean. So, I took it into my own hands and called every hotel on the strip with a show in it asking the front desk to put me through to HR. Once I got a hold of someone there I would ask to speak to the person in charge of the show in their hotel. Interesting enough this was quite effective. I booked three auditions that day.
The producer of Jubilee (one of the biggest showgirl shows on the strip) gave me a date and time for my first audition and told me to come with hair and makeup ready dressed in proper attire. The audition was a few days later at 10am. I drove to the nearest dance attire store and told the man at the counter I was auditioning for Jubilee and needed the proper dance wear. "Where you from kid?' , the man asked. He obviously could tell I was inexperienced and not from around here. "Michigan", I replied. He just smiled while shaking his head and proceeded to hand me the "proper attire" for my first big audition. "Here ya go".
I looked down to see a tiny thong, a bra top and fishnets. "That's it?!" I replied.
"yup", he said. He was an older gentleman of few words. As I continued to look around I found a traditional black ballet leotard that would cover my belly and booty. "what about this?, I asked. He just shook his head again. It was plain to see the answer was no but I got it any way along with his suggestion using up the last of my money.
Fast forward again... I'm at the audition located inside the Jubilee theater. It's enormous and the stage is the biggest I've ever seen. The isles are filled with gorgeous 5'10" girls in their thongs, bras and character heels and full hair and makeup. I had no idea I would have needed eye lashes so big they would blow in the wind. They were all stretching and practicing their extensions that reached far above their heads. I observed and joined in as I stretched in my own little corner of the room. I was very aware I was in over my head and to top it off I chose not to wear the thong and bra that were suggested to me. Instead I went with the full leotard. I felt like the odd duck in the room but still I held my head high and pretended I had done this before.
The first routine the dance captain taught was a ballet routine. I had only taken ballet for about three weeks so I strictly mimicked what they were doing not having a clue as to what they were saying. Surprisingly they kept me for the second call. For those they kept, we had to chaine across the stage, kick high and land in full splits. Again, I observed the girls in front of me glide across the stage spinning in an almost never ending turn, kicking high as they approached the other side of the stage and land in full splits. Considering I didn't even know what a chaine was until I was asked to do it I did pretty damn well doing exactly what it was that they asked. To my surprise they kept me a second time. The thrid routine was a sexy dance to Moulan Rouge. I thought I did pretty well but it was after that the producers finally cut me from the audition.
I'm not sure if they kept me just to see how far the weird girl could go, or if they kept me simply because I'm tall with big boobs or if I had actually done a good job but that was the beginning of my Vegas journey that would ultimately last eight years performing in shows and casinos. I eventually realized I wasn't a dancer. I was and always have been a singer but at the time I'd rather use use up all my resources, dance in a thong and make a fool of myself than sing in front of a crowd because to sing they wouldn't just see my body. They would see my soul. 
No comments:
Post a Comment