Chapter 9: A HOUSE FULL OF WATER (Part 2)


 Chapter 9: A HOUSE FULL OF WATER (Part 2)

Our daily rehearsals begin with a warm-up session. These warm-ups are led by the choreographer's three assistants and consist of stretching, followed by what can only be described as an aerobics class. We are told that warm-ups are mandatory, so we’re forced to jump around like lunatics. One day, the power goes out in the ballroom, and we’re forced to continue in the dark. “This will build team spirit,” they tell us, as we stumble through the moves in the dim light.

The rehearsal space begins to feel like it’s growing in size as we start taking over more and more rooms in the hotel. When the hotel no longer has enough space for what we need, a satellite rehearsal studio is created in the front of a secluded restaurant. This space is dedicated solely to sword fighting practice.

They’ve now split the rooms into “dance training” and “character training” areas. The “characters” were hired to be part of the experience once we’re onboard the ship, and they also have their own show. In one of our shows, these characters appear as part of the storyline. But we are not allowed to refer to them as “characters.” We are instructed to call them “dancers.” This, of course, becomes one of the oldest battles within The Company.

One day, an audition is held in the main ballroom for an adagio team that is supposed to appear in one of the shows. Although I’m already contracted to do it, they decide it’s fair for everyone to audition. There are four couples auditioning, and we spend the entire session lifting the girls over our heads repeatedly while the choreographer watches. But the audition doesn’t stop there. We are asked to lift the assistants, lift each other, and, of course, lift the choreographer himself. No one is quite sure of the point, but it's clear we have nothing but time on our hands. Unfortunately, the excessive lifting leads to an injury, and one of the dancers is sidelined for quite some time.

At the end of the day, we limp home. The cast decides not to take the van for two reasons: one, to work out our muscle cramps, and two, because the vans have started to smell like feet.

The next morning, we receive a phone call informing us that we’ve been given the day off. As of now, we don’t have an official schedule, though we’ve been asking for one for a while. There has never been one, and we are constantly at their beck and call, sometimes late into the night. So, an idea pops into our heads. We set up a dry erase board on the front door of one of the condos with a daily schedule that we create ourselves. Now, we are required to check the board to see when we are called for rehearsal—and it can change multiple times throughout the day. I’ve attended every rehearsal so far, but today I have the day off.

I go back to bed and wake up at the crack of noon, get dressed, and head to the beach. The scenery is so beautiful that I end up falling asleep in the sun. The whole cast is there, and we adhere to Rule #1: no show talk on our day off.

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