Being an Auditioning Actress in New York: l

The hallway is cramped with people. They are tall and gorgeous; the air is rent with blasts of Bulgari perfume and stiletto heels click the floor like empty bullet shells. Laminated resumes and head shots are blinding in the florescent lights.
A well muscled, perfectly coiffed man sits behind a large sign that screams "CHELSEA STUDIOS" and a schedule of events. The one we're looking for is under Saturday's schedule: "Macrocrisis: Audtions 11-2pm. Rm. 216". The delicious looking man looks up at you and smiles; girls nearby give him pained, regretful looks. At this moment they would reconsider their entire lifestyle in exchange for his current sexual preference.
Room 216 is a ballet studio with an aging and stooped heater hacking and coughing in the corner. Three long folding tables link hot dog style across the room. It's a dream locale for an actor. From where you are standing, you can see your entire profile in your peripheral vision. Posture! Dear lord, if your professor from your Basic Movement class taught you anything...
Three people sit behind these tables. One sits to the far right and holds a copy of the script. To his/her left is a mini CD/MP3 player. S/he immediately poses no threat. People who look like they have things to do are very rarely the ones you need to impress. The other, over on the far left, poses the largest threat of all. This is your Hitler, ladies and gentlemen. Do not show any fear. Ignore her but acknowledge her presence. Respect her but hate her with a fire with a thousand suns. Her name is Accompanist. It matters very little who she is as a person. She could save your life on the street and it would make no difference. She has the power to ruin you on accident. Gandhi would fight her.
The remaining one in the middle is a perfect balance between the Intern and Accompanist. It is the director/choreographer. She is studying the arm you used to push open the door. She looks at your body to see if it matches her ideas for the male ingenue; she searches for a toned, athletic dancer's body.
You have to show no fear. You are their long lost best friends. You greet them almost sheepishly, like you're saying "Hey, I know I'm already cast and we'll have some great moments together, but let's just do the formality thing for practice." If you are in high school you will say "Good morning" even thought it's 2:25. "My name is Josie Newbie and I'll be doing a monologue from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. Following my monologue I will be performing six bars of "Part of Your World" from "The Little Mermaid" in b flat. Thank you very much and I hope you enjoy the show." If you have graduated from college and took a few acting classes you will say "Hello. My name is Josephine M. Newbie and I have a monologue of Romeo and Juliet followed by a song from South Pacific. Thank you". If you are still paying for your student loans from your theatre major and have been to a few auditions before you will say "Well, alright! I'm Jo Newbie and this is the Nurse from Romeo and Juliet, followed by a song from the Tony award winning "Little Mermaid".
They ask you to read a scene along with Intern, and s/he knows the part better than you. This is where s/he shifts into an partner. Skip ahead and memorize your lines. Study your new partner and try to connect with this new amazing person in this moment in time. Make it private and special, but cheat out and let everyone see your good angle. The director/choreographer is watching. You tighten your abs and try to bring a part of you into what you're saying. You have no idea what you're saying, as you're reading this for the first time, but you must read out loud like it's the best page from your diary. Just as you're wondering how to create some kind of truth or brilliance, they've already checked their notes and are politely waiting for the last word to be said. "Okay thank you! That was great"
Aaaaaaannnnd we're friends again! You try to do something memorable that won't waste any more of their time. You really hope you don't have a wedgie as you turn to leave. You wonder how to walk out of the room. Strut like John Travolta? Saunter like Madonna? Trip like yourself? Yes! That's the one your legs decide on. Excellent choice.
The door is bulging with impatient actors on the other side. They flop around in a single file like fish in the Puget Sound. You burst out of the hallway like it's a broken dam and join the river of people in the streets ahead.