Missed Bus

I have the horrible suspicion that I have missed the bus.

Not literally.  Not the real bus.  It is nearly psychologically impossible for me to miss the actual bus, because if I am not at the stop five minutes early, I get incredibly anxious.  I digress.

The point being, the bus that I was referring to is much bigger than our municipal transit, and much more important that an old yellow school bus.  I don't know quite how to explain my metaphor, so I suppose I will have to skip over it and get to the heart of the issue.

During my freshman and sophomore years, I was presented with a myriad of opportunities in which I was interested but too scared to take.  Last year, my junior year, when I finally got up my courage, it was, essentially, too late.

Let me put it in simpler terms:

In ninth grade, our school put on a production of Chicago, the Vaudeville musical.  I was encouraged to audition.  I didn't.  In eleventh grade, I finally decided that I actually did want to try my hand at theatre (yes, that's the British spelling, and yes, I'm from the U.S., but that's how we spell it at my school), and when I got the application, it asked me for previous acting experience.

Now, it's understandable if a freshman or even a sophomore wants to audition with no prior experience, but a junior?

That probably isn't the real reason that I wasn't called back, but it wasn't exactly a promising sign.

That is one of the many examples of missing the bus.

*   *   *

Since I mentioned the topic of theater ('scuse me, theatre), I realized that I really must discuss it further.  Basically this whole town revolves around it, after all.  Tourists come from far and wide (aka California) to see plays here, and there are quite a few students at my school whose parents are actors.  Thus, we have a healthier-than-average drama department whose productions are not your typical high school plays.

Participants call themselves thespians.  The rest of us call them theatre people.

The name isn't always used in a particularly complimentary sense.  It often implies that the speaker considers them a.) stuck-up, b.) annoying, c.) weird.  It's a bit of a stereotype: while there are some theatre people who are stuck-up and annoying, there are many who are kind and considerate.  As for weird...well, not all of them are weird in my opinion, although that is debatable.  It depends on one's definition of "weird," I suppose.  I have held conversations entirely in duck with one particular male theatre person:

Him:  "Quack, quack?"

Me: "Quack.  Quack quack quack?"

Him: "Quack."

Me: "Quack."

(At this point, his boyfriend enters the scene and gives me a funny look.  The conversation ends.)

The End

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