One might find it odd that a place where I feel most content is located halfway across the world in Scotland. I’ve only stepped foot in the place about six or seven times at the absolute most, but the last time I sat in this beautiful theatre was the best fifteen minuets of my life. The red velvet chairs, beautiful crown molding, an empty stage and a house filled with roughly forty people running around, causing chaos.
Putting on a show and presenting it to the public is scary enough as it is. Wondering if the audience will like your adaptation of someone else’s work and ideas. Attempting to make them your own all the while sticking to the true meaning of the character is so unnerving. But when you decide to write your own play with thirty-two other high schoolers and two adults presenting on an international level to be shared for the first time...well...that’s just crazy. While working on a show, these classmates not only become your friends but you create such a strong bond you start to become family. The endless amount of time you spend with these people not only on but off the stage writing and collaborating something made by us really made Churchhill all the more special.
The trip was coming to a close and our final show in Scotland had snuck up on all of us. We knew it had to come to an end at some point, we just didn’t want to accept it. Glass had it’s final show and Churchill filled with chaos, like the previous three shows we had, cleaning out the dressing rooms...putting away props...taking down the set...sweeping the stage. But this time was different. As I grabbed my makeup and draped my costume over my right arm for the final time making my way out of the whitest dressing room ever to be in existence finding, my way in house. I laid my bags on the floor, sat in the third row, aisle seat, and took it all in. The mayhem that seemed to be happening around me wasn’t in real time. The world began to slow as I gazed up at the chandelier and slowly glided my eyes across each panel on the ceiling finally making my way towards the stage. A place where I preformed only four times was now my home.
It was as if my body shut out all noises and I became the only person within it’s walls. The real world seized to exist and I became consumed with this indescribable feeling. The type of feeling you can never get unless you truly take in a moment. Salt water started to escape my being and my love for this gorgeous theatre grew. It finally hit me that Glass was over and I will never be up on this stage again. My family will disperse after this trip and we will no longer be the same. I will never be the same. As I sat in the chair it’s velvet material caressed my skin and created a certain type of vulnerability within myself that I have never experienced. A that moment will forever be lost in time...intangible. This vibe that seems to be creating a forcefield from reality will never happen again.
“Thank you Mid-Pacific” echoed throughout the theatre, for the last time, quickly snapping me out of this beautiful trance I never thought would end. As I made my way out of the theatre, down the steps and onto the coach one final time I had to stop myself from sobbing. Tears have been shed after every final performance. When the show is over and our final curtain call has arrived crying seems to be inevitable. But no tears have ever meant more than those shed on that red velvet seat in Scotland.
