How I got my first break… literally. Part 2
The morning of my audition for Cyndi Lauper, I was so nervous, that I could barely crutch around. I couldn’t eat or even hold a conversation with anyone. This is how I felt for days. I was so scared they were going to think more about the boot cast on my foot than my playing ability, or my heart and dedication. I wanted to feel confident and do everything on my own but I decided to let my dad help me at least get close enough to the building so that I could crutch inside with my gear on my back... a task a (then) 25-year-old should be able to do without their dad... but in my situation, I had to.
You’re probably wondering how I’m going to pull this off with a broken foot, right? It wasn’t easy, but there was no way in hell I was going to miss this audition. From the moment I got home from the hospital, I made my dad carry me down the basement steps and help me set up my drum set. “Set it up lefty.” I told my dad as he unpacked my kit from the cases. “Are you sure?” He seemed concerned that I only had three weeks to prepare and teaching myself how to play the drums left-handed was a huge task. We set it up that way so I wouldn’t have to use my right foot at all. I hopped down to give it a try, but it was the most awkward feeling in the world and I knew right away that I couldn’t do it this way. That’s when my dad had a great idea. “Why don’t we get you a double kick pedal, and you’ll play only the left side like Travis Barker did when he broke his foot!” My dad was a genius. I didn’t own a double kick pedal at the time, but his friend, Kenny did and he was extremely kind to lend me his pedal. I am so grateful that he did.
For the next couple of weeks, I practiced every day, playing Time After Time, Money Changes Everything, She Bop, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, and every other Cyndi song I could think of that she might call out. I trained myself to use only the left side of the kick pedal so that I could pull it off. Picture trying to draw a picture with your opposite hand, throw a baseball with your other hand, or do any task with your opposite hand. It was so hard to do. I sucked for so long but I didn’t let it discourage me because I knew I could do it.
After doing my makeup for the audition that morning, I made this video for my future self. I didn’t know what the outcome would be that day, but I needed to remind myself why I had worked so hard to persevere. It’s because I love music.
Getting to NYC was easy. My dad drove along the west side highway and we found a place to park near the rehearsal studio. I was scared of showing my face too early, so we went to a nearby restaurant to relax. My dad relaxed and had a drink and got us some snacks but I couldn’t bring myself to barely move. My dad let me do my thing and I stared out the window until it was time.
I decided to let my dad help me get to the building on the next block and that I would walk in by myself. It was still a little early but I had been there before, so I figured I could go in and sit on the couch in the lounge until it was time. When I walked in, my dad was behind me holding my gear for me. My idea was that I would be early enough to slide in, unseen. Boy was I wrong. Cyndi was there, standing in the room behind the front desk. She was staring at me and my crutches and looked confused and possibly mad. I could see on her face that she was disappointed. I quickly said goodbye to my dad, calling him by his first name like he was just a friend helping me out. “See you later, Chris. I’ll text you when I’m done,” My dad smirked and wished me luck. Cyndi had disappeared into the other room. One of the band’s techs came up to me and grabbed my gear. I crutched into the rehearsal room to see the band and about 5 or so other crew members and managers all standing around. Everyone’s faces were priceless. Confused, marveled, curious, wondering how I was going to pull this off or why I even showed up in the first place. Alex, the guitarist was the first to ask if I was ok. My plan was to feed them as little information as possible and not bring the vibe down with my story, but I assured Alex and everyone else that I was fine and was ready to play.
The drum kit had been set up already as if I had done it myself. Everything was perfectly raised to my height and liking. They even had my favorite Zildjian cymbals on the kit already. The tech explained that he had looked me up and saw a few pictures of my kit online so they had gone ahead and gotten me everything I would need.
Just as I was behind the kit, letting them help me set up the double kick pedal I brought to pull off my audition, Cyndi walked over with concern and asked what happened. “I - I - I broke my foot.” I stumbled over my words partly because I was scared to tell the truth, and also because I was in front of Cyndi Lauper! “I know you broke your foot, but what happened?” She asked more intensely. “I was hit by another car. I’m fine. I can do this.” I said just trying to get her off the topic. She was not easily assured and pressed on, “Honey, you can’t play. You’re injured.” She pointed matter of factly to my broken foot. Her arms crossed. She had every right to be concerned. With great confidence, I put my hands together in a prayer position, looked her square in the eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I swear to God, I am not here to waste your time. I learned how to play with my left foot. That’s how I’m going to play today, and by the time your tour starts, I’ll be back on two feet.” I lied about that last part because I had never broken a bone before and didn’t have a clue when I would be fully healed, but it worked. She uncrossed her arms and motioned me to the kit. Cyndi left the room and the plan continued. I would play with Alex, the guitarist, and Bill, the bassist and musical director of the band for a couple of songs before Cyndi joined back in. Having everyone look at me as I was sitting down to play had me fighting every ounce of anger and sadness that my foot was broken, that I was in an accident, that I almost died, that I was letting Cyndi down already and none of it was my fault. But I made it here. I needed to push hard and prove that I am stronger than this despite everything I had been through.
Bill seemed amused and excited to see how this was going to go. I plugged in my in-ears and we began playing a few songs. We did about a minute and a half of each song and I felt good. I could see I was impressing the band with my one foot. Cyndi finally came in and suggested we play the hardest song of her choosing, Change Of Heart. At this point, I wasn’t nervous because there was so much adrenalin pumping through me, but I had to work extremely hard because she was not giving in to my situation. Cyndi pushed me. She was urging me to dig in, play hard, and bring it to the next level. The whole time we played, she had her game face on and did not let it show what she was truly thinking. I kept pushing back any negative thoughts so I could focus on just doing the best I could.
“Let’s give her a break and do Time.” Cyndi said. Time After Time. I was about to play Time After Time with Cyndi Lauper. I didn’t care anymore about getting the gig or not. I was just grateful for the experience. I mean, how cool was it that I even got to audition for her? This was something I had always wanted to do and this experience was preparing me for future auditions.
During the last song, Cyndi faced me and we played off one another’s energy. It was amazing. We were playing the end of Money Changes Everything when she turned to me, waving her arms around and motioning me to go off. I played my heart out, doing fills off of her vocal runs and listening to Alex’s guitar riffs. I caught a moment where Bill looked over at Cyndi and it seemed like they gave each other a signal like the third base coach would give the runner in a game of baseball. We finished playing. I was out of breath and beyond sweaty as I had worked harder than I ever had. I didn’t really think about whether or not I would get the gig, I was just proud of myself that I pulled it off.
When I was packing up, Cyndi and her whole crew came over and talked to me at the drums. They asked about the accident. This time, Cyndi was asking if I was alright and if my sister and her boyfriend were ok and how my parents were doing. The other people surrounding me were smiling. I think I impressed them. As I left, they said they would be in touch very soon.
I left the room and wobbled outside to the sidewalk, with my gear on my back. I was absolutely exhausted and my foot was beginning to throb from the heat. I decided that to wait for my dad out front might be lame, so I crutched down the street to the parking garage with my last stint of energy. Once I got there, I called my dad who was shocked that I was done so quickly. He said he had just received his drink from the bartender, took a sip, and slammed down a twenty to more than cover his drink. After we hung up the phone, I realized I forgot to tell him I was at the parking garage. He wouldn’t answer his phone as he was probably too excited to hear how the audition went and he instead arrived back at the building where the audition was held. When I finally got a hold of him, he said the kid at the front desk was asking for me to come back.
I crutched back to the building and saw my dad on the sidewalk. I was smiling so big and finally felt relaxed for the first time in over a month. All I cared about was that I had accomplished my first audition and made it out alive. I had been thinking about the audition ever since I got home from the hospital, and I was finally going to be able to process what had happened in the accident. As I got closer to the door of the rehearsal space, Cyndi came outside. We were probably about 50 yards from each other, my dad about halfway between us watching this exchange as she yelled out to me, “Hey kid! Good news, bad news.” My heart raced. “You got the gig!” I stopped in my tracks and looked over at my dad. He was smiling bigger than he ever had and Cyndi noticed, realizing that he was my dad. We all met on the sidewalk, she gave me a hug, and her manager and the band came up behind her clapping and congratulating me. During our embrace, I promised Cyndi I wouldn’t let her down. She said “welcome to the family” and called me a “mother fucker” on the drums. She was emotional and had tears in her eyes and was so impressed that I came in with crutches and a broken foot and still killed it. Bill asked if I would be better by the time the tour started. I still didn’t want to let them down, so I lied again and said I would be. Though I wouldn’t know if I would or not, I had vowed to myself that I would do everything I could to be back on two feet. “Well, either way, you’ll just play with your left foot and it will be fine.” He said. They believed in me. I felt the best I had felt since the accident. After experiencing a nightmare, the absolute worst thing I ever went through just one month before, this was the best news, my dream coming true.
I spent the drive home calling everyone to tell them. First, my mom, who cried at work. Then Carly. I video chatted with her and she burst into tears, so happy for me. We met Cori at her college and had dinner with her that evening. I thought I would finally feel relaxed, but my mind began racing, thinking about how I was going to get better in such a short amount of time. We all cheered our drinks and I decided to just let the feeling of having gotten the gig of my dreams take over. I would worry about my foot tomorrow.
