Step on a crack

Liza asked about the superstition surrounding one of Shakespeare's better known plays. Theater people can be a superstitious lot and some of the things that'll give a theater person pause are:

* Whistling in a theater. In the old days, large heavy objects were "flown" in and out of the stage on a whistle cue. So walking across the stage whistling tunelessly to yourself could result in having a LHO land on you. Now it's just seen as asking for bad luck.

* Saying "Good luck!" to someone. From your mouth to G-d's ears. Talk about asking for it! So theater people say "break a leg!" as a cheery pre-show send-off because if you wish someone bad luck, well, they should be innoculated against the worst. Of course, I know someone who slipped on some ice three weeks before opening night and broke her ankle in three places, resulting in someone else playing the part. The show must go on, but if you're on crutches, you won't.

* Cleaning out one's make-up kit. I shudder to consider the grotty condition of some of the theater boxes of some folks I know. If I am at all superstitious it stops dead at carrying around some nasty old box in which I would be keeping a toothbrush and mascara. Eww-yuck.

* And, of course, the Scottish Play (dun dun duhhhhhh.....). There are stories that mentioning Shakespeare's history play - or quoting from it - anywhere near a theater will bring bad luck. Unless one is actually rehearsing or performing it, That Play doesn't get mentioned. The especially superstitious tell stories of actors who have been injured or killed because That Play was invoked. True? Not true? Who knows. But for some of us, referring to it as the Scottish Play is now a pretty unshakable habit. Of course, I also know people who insist on naming That Play and quoting from it backstage just to freak out the superstitious. No one has suffered grevious injury yet. Yet.

* My own superstition: I generally don't tell directors that I will be auditioning for them because I am convinced it just gives them time to think up reasons not to cast me. I like to take them by surprise, sort of ambush my way into a part. Of course, the downside to this particular superstition is that it means that I can't call the director and ask questions ahead of time. So in order to get the information that I need, I've been known to use my friends as covert agents. "Okay, remember, my name has to stay out of this, but find out if he's thinking of doing x or y."

I took this to its illogical conclusion when I was considering auditioning for something that went up this past January. The director for this particular show is notorious for not returning phone calls or e-mails unless the wind is from the north-northwest or some such thing but in the weeks leading up to the auditions we were working on a show together, so if I weren't such an idiot, I could have turned to him at any time and said, "So I'm thinking of auditioning for your show - are you planning to cast Character X traditionally or would you prefer something else?" Traditional casting would have meant that I could go read for him, "something else" - like casting an 18-year-old hottie - would have freed up that evening for me.

But no. I've invested a certain amount of time into being this much of an idiot, so I called in a marker and asked someone else who was working on our show with us to find out what I needed to know. If this guy ever gives up his day job the CIA could really use him. I had all the details in short order and he created a nice, plausible cover story for why he would want them. The phone call - from his mobile to mine - sounded like something from a James Bond movie. No proper names were used, nor were any identifying details. If a transcript fell into enemy hands (i.e., the director's), there was nothing to betray us.

The audition dates were posted on the internet, so no problem. Of course, I had some out-of-town travel on those dates, but that's easily solved. My pal Linda and I debated the best way to get back for the likely start time and decided it would be easiest if I flew. (It is only in my world of actor paranoia that it is easier for this nervous flier to be in the air for 80 minutes than to drive for 6 hours.) I booked the flight.

Annoyingly, as I later learned, these auditions did't follow the normal pattern, so my flight would get me in about an hour after they ended. I considered changing my flight (and paying the change fee) until David made clear to me how very stupid I was being.

So I bit the bullet, pulled up my big girl panties, and called the director to ask if I could read for him outside of the normal auditions. Got his voicemail. Left a message. Which he didn't return.

And three days before his auditions, I got cast in something else.

Fast forward: When I got an e-mail the other day from a director asking me (and the rest of the bcc'd folks) to please audition for her show, I sent an e-mail asking a fairly important question. And I sent it to her instead of a covert agent.

Getting there. I'm getting there.