Final additions are always the most exhausting.
6am: Shower, double-check your bag (suitcase full of essentials for the day) and get all dolled up.
7:30: Arrive at Cowboys Stadium and wait in line for an hour (or more). It was incredibly hot and intensely humid this year, so all the time spent curling our hair that morning was in vain.
9:00: Get to fluff and puff (redo hair and makeup after it all went downhill while waiting in line).
Spend the rest of the morning reviewing your solo routine (and trying not to see everyone else practicing their routines that always look better than yours, not to mention those props and costumes!).
Once we are in our seats and the solos start, everyone is cheering each other on and secretly quivering at the incredible talent and skill you have put yourself up against.
I started dancing when I was in 8th grade and continued taking dance classes once a week throughout high school. I was never a part of the “competition” group, but I was usually lucky enough to score a second-row spot for our recitals in town, and I was happy with that! In high school, I was a cheerleader down to my megaphone bumper sticker, and I loved it. I was a much better cheerleader than a dancer, so sitting and watching hours (yes, hours) of professional and natural-born dancers performing unbelievable routines for the judges was quite intimidating. After the first solo, my hands started to sweat. It is obvious who the veterans were, and their solos propelled my nerves up a level! My seat was only two rows from the last, so I was one of the “lucky” ones!
I had to try not to forget my routine while genuinely cheering on my competitors, as their talents far surpassed my own. Then, a few hours into this part of the day, I realized my shirt was a little wet, my bangs were sweaty, and there were only three rows of solos to go. So, I ran to the bathroom to try and clean up. The mirrors remind me of the number of times the humidity had affected my overly hair-sprayed hair, now resembling “beach hair.” I ran through my solo one more time away from all the beautiful faces about to size me and my routine up. "I am ready," and I ran back to take my place in line to step on stage. I was next to go, but I couldn't get the stress out of my hands from the hours I had been sitting in my chair with every muscle tense and my hands in tight fists, breaking apart for sporadic applause.
As I headed out to the center of the stage, I glanced at an encouraging smile from both Kelli and Judy and bowed my head, waiting for my music to start. I was happy with most of my routine. Of course, I forgot my favorite part and had to get back on track awkwardly with a misplaced turn, but that is the game's name (don’t stop!). Overall, my performance was fine, and I tried to quickly move on to focus on the routine we had learned in the semi-finals.
Solos were finished, and we had more fluff and puff time (much needed), but most of us spent the remaining time running the routine. We were about to grace the biggest HD TV in the world. Once we got onto the field, going through each group of women was slow. The day has already been so long, and unlike the other two audition rounds, your mind isn’t allowed to shut off halfway through. We were still trying to keep focused and stay upbeat (regardless of our solo fumbles) and smile for the judges so far, far away in the stands as they focused on our HD strengths and weaknesses.
When we were done, done for real, and our muscles started to uncoil a little, we waited another couple hours to hear our decided fate. This day was mentally stressful trying to remember your solo and the new routine, but the physical fatigue was staggering. After being tense and nervous for hours, dancing with all your energy more than a few times, and then finishing the day off with performing the kick line next to a veteran, is enough to require a hamburger, fries, milkshake, big fluffy bed, and 12 hours of sleep just to regain your sanity. Yet, if you are one of the blessed ones to make it into training camp, you must be happy with only the last two and grab a box of Junior Mints at the gas station.
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6am: Shower, double-check your bag (suitcase full of essentials for the day) and get all dolled up.
7:30: Arrive at Cowboys Stadium and wait in line for an hour (or more). It was incredibly hot and intensely humid this year, so all the time spent curling our hair that morning was in vain.
9:00: Get to fluff and puff (redo hair and makeup after it all went downhill while waiting in line).
Spend the rest of the morning reviewing your solo routine (and trying not to see everyone else practicing their routines that always look better than yours, not to mention those props and costumes!).
Once we are in our seats and the solos start, everyone is cheering each other on and secretly quivering at the incredible talent and skill you have put yourself up against.
I started dancing when I was in 8th grade and continued taking dance classes once a week throughout high school. I was never a part of the “competition” group, but I was usually lucky enough to score a second-row spot for our recitals in town, and I was happy with that! In high school, I was a cheerleader down to my megaphone bumper sticker, and I loved it. I was a much better cheerleader than a dancer, so sitting and watching hours (yes, hours) of professional and natural-born dancers performing unbelievable routines for the judges was quite intimidating. After the first solo, my hands started to sweat. It is obvious who the veterans were, and their solos propelled my nerves up a level! My seat was only two rows from the last, so I was one of the “lucky” ones!
I had to try not to forget my routine while genuinely cheering on my competitors, as their talents far surpassed my own. Then, a few hours into this part of the day, I realized my shirt was a little wet, my bangs were sweaty, and there were only three rows of solos to go. So, I ran to the bathroom to try and clean up. The mirrors remind me of the number of times the humidity had affected my overly hair-sprayed hair, now resembling “beach hair.” I ran through my solo one more time away from all the beautiful faces about to size me and my routine up. "I am ready," and I ran back to take my place in line to step on stage. I was next to go, but I couldn't get the stress out of my hands from the hours I had been sitting in my chair with every muscle tense and my hands in tight fists, breaking apart for sporadic applause.
As I headed out to the center of the stage, I glanced at an encouraging smile from both Kelli and Judy and bowed my head, waiting for my music to start. I was happy with most of my routine. Of course, I forgot my favorite part and had to get back on track awkwardly with a misplaced turn, but that is the game's name (don’t stop!). Overall, my performance was fine, and I tried to quickly move on to focus on the routine we had learned in the semi-finals.
Solos were finished, and we had more fluff and puff time (much needed), but most of us spent the remaining time running the routine. We were about to grace the biggest HD TV in the world. Once we got onto the field, going through each group of women was slow. The day has already been so long, and unlike the other two audition rounds, your mind isn’t allowed to shut off halfway through. We were still trying to keep focused and stay upbeat (regardless of our solo fumbles) and smile for the judges so far, far away in the stands as they focused on our HD strengths and weaknesses.
When we were done, done for real, and our muscles started to uncoil a little, we waited another couple hours to hear our decided fate. This day was mentally stressful trying to remember your solo and the new routine, but the physical fatigue was staggering. After being tense and nervous for hours, dancing with all your energy more than a few times, and then finishing the day off with performing the kick line next to a veteran, is enough to require a hamburger, fries, milkshake, big fluffy bed, and 12 hours of sleep just to regain your sanity. Yet, if you are one of the blessed ones to make it into training camp, you must be happy with only the last two and grab a box of Junior Mints at the gas station.
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