We often quote to Mac the expression "show me your friends and I'll show you your future" as a way to stress the importance of surrounding yourself with smart, like-minded people who share the same values and principles.
Well, let me show you my friends and I'll show you my future.
A couple weeks ago one of my expat friends sent an email around to a bunch of us generally middle-aged women to say that the Opening and Closing Ceremonies for the Olympics and Paralympics were 75% short of volunteers and by volunteering to be a participant, we could see the ceremonies from inside of Maracana Stadium (since none of us has tickets to the ceremonies). She went on to say that her friend, the Logistics Director for all the ceremonies, assured her that "provided you can move without falling over, then there is a spot for you".
Right.
A group of us registered and signed up for the same audition time: Sunday afternoon at 2:30pm. We figured there was safety in numbers, we could copy each other if we didn't understand the instruction in Portuguese (the terms and conditions said instruction would be given only in Portuguese), and we'd have a good laugh and a story to tell at the end of it all. We also agreed that the Las Vegas tourism motto would be our motto: what happens at the audition, stays at the audition.
We met for a coffee ahead of time and caught cabs over to the audition place. We all got in line where we were given race bibs to pin on our shirts. Then we got called up one by one where they checked you in and measured every single part of your body. I don't know what the costume will involve, but I've had my head, inseam, outseam, bust, waist, hips, and feet measured. They left nothing to chance.
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| Here we all are, after check-in and before the audition itself |
We were then shepherded to an un-air-conditioned gym where the actual audition would take place. Now my plan had been to stand in the back the whole time so I could watch the people in front of me. Brazil is not often very organized, but naturally - with my luck and inability to remember any sequence of dance beyond the 16 beats of the Macarena - this was supremely well-organized. That meant that there was no hiding in the back. This was a legit dance audition. LEGIT.
They lined us all up by our numbers so I was about in the middle of the pack but surrounded by expats. There were 10 people per row and maybe 8 or 9 rows in total. It was a little intimidating because there were a lot of youthful dancer-looking people present. Like with leopard skin pants and Timberland boots and leggings and ballerina skirts. Did I mention I can't remember anything more complicated than the Macarena?
The head choreographer came out and talked some and then this very high-energy female choreographer got on stage and started teaching us the choreography. It was good for awhile - I could keep it all straight - but she just kept adding and adding and adding. There was dropping to your knees, jumping back up, flipping around, Madonna moves.... WAY more complicated than the Macarena.
If you've read the blog for awhile, you know I love The Amazing Race tv show. A season or two ago, they had a dance challenge and several of the couples just could not get the routine down. I remember thinking how stupid they were and wondering why they couldn't just memorize it and move on. My apologies to those people. I got it now.
It would have been one thing if I'd blundered through in the middle of the pack, but as I mentioned, this was a serious audition. They kept moving each line forward so you had to perform right in front of the judges several times.
A dance audition in front of real choreographers and judges, all while being compared to Brazilians. Who come out of the womb with rhythm in their hips. Really, it was sort of like my worst nightmare except that my real nightmares aren't that bad.
The thing is, though, that we were having so much fun together that I forgot to be really nervous. I mean, I was nervous. Hello, have you met my two left feet? But I was with a fun bunch of women and it didn't really matter how bad I was. The very worst that could happen is that they would all get invited to participate and I wouldn't. Not the end of the world.
The choreographers and judges also seemed to be loving this big group of expats trying out so they were so encouraging. Surely there have been other expats who auditioned but maybe they didn't come en masse? Even the Brazilians who were auditioning were supportive and cheered us on. It was a ton of fun.
We danced and we laughed and we giggled and we made fun of ourselves for 90 minutes.
You read that right.
Ninety minutes of hot, sweaty, middle-aged messes dancing around. I was exhausted.
I'm including two photos that a friend's niece took. And I'm attaching it because you can only see the expat women in the photos. There is no way known I'm sending video. You'll just have to take my word for it that I, um, rocked it. Completely and totally.
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| 4 beats from the end of the routine. Please God, let this be over soon. |
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| The end. |
At the end of the audition, we all got the good news that we'd been "selected" as participants. And by all, I mean everybody in the entire audition, not just the expat women. I am sure we were all "selected" for our bright, shining talents (or at least the potential for holding it together during the ceremony) and not because they really just needed warm bodies. Right?
So now we wait to hear the training schedule. It's pretty intense and we'll all have to decide if we can commit. I'm thinking I can satisfy a couple cravings (real and not real) by actually doing this: 1) I could be closer than ever to a Dancing With the Stars body after months of all that dance training (real); 2) I could end up with a very cool costume (not real); 3) I could learn to dance (real); and 4) I could have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform in an Olympics opening ceremony (not real but super cool so I might claim it as real).
Stay tuned for more information.....
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