I’ve said it, and I’d bet my actor friends would agree, “It’s the ones you don’t care about, that you book…” We’ve all gone on auditions for the sake of going, not the promise of a job. I was sure, sure, I wouldn’t book this gig, “Cruise ships don’t hire people like me.” I thought…

Flash forward almost two years.

What a ride! What…an education.

I know of what I’m capable, how far outside my comfort zone I can safely go and what I’m willing to risk for adventure and satisfaction. I’m a different person now. Not on the outside – with the exception of the 20 extra pounds – on the inside. No, I didn’t experience some epiphany-like moment of great clarity, Jew and Gentile Readers, it’s the little things….The little things that people don’t notice. The things only you, yourself, can see.

I set out to write a post about “all the mixed emotions which endings bring about,” but realized, I can’t get all sappy, it’s not who I am. Sure, I’ll be sad saying goodbye to all my friends, blah blah blah…I’ll miss this and that and that, and don’t forget that.

Boring! Let me just say this very plainly, so there isn’t any confusion, “Even the bad times were better than sitting on my ass in Weehawken. I had a freaking amazing time and I’d do it all again.”

I’ve been blessed with not one, but two jobs, which’ve taken me to far off lands and distant places, when does the next one start? My bags are packed.

Mine was nearly destroyed.

A freak microphone accident almost derailed my TV and Movie career.

During the tech rehearsal for the Broadway Standards show, as I was bringing the mic to my mouth during You Can’t Stop The Beat, The Boat suddenly rocked forward. Both of my front teeth were chipped after the mike slammed into my open mouth.

Disaster!

Full disclosure, one of my front teeth was chipped when I was a child; as I grew into my looks, I called it my character chip. Now, with both front teeth chipped, it was less character and more hillbilly.

Because it happened on The Boat during workin’ hours, I had to go to the infirmary and get it checked out – also, I wanted them to pay for it be fixed so I had to jump through a few hoops.

First, they tested me for drugs and alcohol, standard procedure. I had to fill out an accident report, security was called, I had to fill out another accident report and a security officer sat with me as the testing was completed.

I passed.

Not because I keep a cup of clean pee in the fridge in my cabin, but because I don’t get drunk in the middle of the day – anymore – and I haven’t touched any narcotics, even the prescription kind in what seems like forever. The Boat has a zero tolerance policy and subject all employees to random drug tests, you fail, you buy a ticket home, from no matter where we might be…

But I digress, where were we, oh yes, my Hollywood smile…

After being drug tested and interrogated by security I had to attend a mandatory safety meeting with The Boat’s Powers That Be. It was my responsibility to explain how my accident happened and how I could have avoided it.

“Well,” I started when it was my turn to speak in front of the Captain, Chief Officer, First, Second and Third Officers and the Hotel Manager. I told my tale after a cook who’s arm was badly burned and an engineer who took a bolt to the face. My chipped teeth suddenly didn’t seem so earth-shattering. “The ship was rocking and when I brought the mike to my face it went a little further than I’d anticipated it’d go. I guess the only way to have avoided it would be to invent stabilizers that prevent that kind of rocking…” I waited for the laugh which never came, the Captain just shook his head, looked into his cup of coffee and I was dismissed.

A few days later I was informed by the medical staff, The Boat’s insurance would pay for the repair. Now, Jew and Gentile Readers, I assumed the reconstruction of my smile would take place at our home port of San Diego – I was perfectly willing to give up a day hunting and gathering – but, I was informed it would take place in Papeete, Tahiti.
You can imagine my surprise and reservations.

I wanted my smile fixed in America, not in a foreign country.

Alas, I had to put my prejudices aside, be a team player and hope for the best.

There were seven of us going to the dentist that bright Papeete morning, I had to lay my fears of unsanitized tools to rest and remember, it was just a filling, of course, a filling of my two front teeth.

When I walked with the rest of the crew members I was pleasantly surprised to find a clean, state of the art facility. By the time I made it to the chair all my fears were waylaid – I’d heard no screams from the others, how bad could it be?

In only about 30 minutes, I had my smile back.

The dentist didn’t understand how the chips affected my position on the ship, “Can you not sing?” he asked.

“I can.” I replied, “but that’s not the point. I look like a hillbilly.”

“Zis ees a bad ting?”

“It is. if you aren’t one…”

Do you want the skills to help people when such microphone mishaps happen to them? Then check out how to become a medical assistant.

• An average day:
• Breakfast, the lido outfit of the day; shorts, a polo and closed-toe shoes.
• Back to your cabin and back into your loungewear.
• If it’s a port day, a change into your adventure clothes is in the cards.
• Not a port day? It’s into your gym clothes.
• A shower. Nekkid…
• Back into your Lido-wear for lunch.
• Loungewear, or nothing at all for nap-time.
• Heading to a show? Dinner? Drinks with friends or colleagues? Well, then it’s certainly after 5:00 PM, shorts are no longer appropriate. Business casual, Suit or Tuxedo if it a formal night.
• Street clothes for post drinks in the Officer’s Bar.
• Back into PJs for bed.

I hear you, Jew and Gentile readers, “That’s a little ridiculous. You must be exaggerating Vinnie.”

Folks, I promise you, I’m not. I wish I were.

Changing clothes eight times a day is exhausting!

What, what, what!?!

One needed me at an immediate audition for a national, principal, on-camera commercial and the others, updating their files wanting to confirm they had my most recent headshot and resume…

Of course, I didn’t make it to the audition, I was 3000 miles away from 23rd Street between 5th & 6th Aves, but after giving my reasons for not being able to attend, that particular CD seemd even more excited to have me in her files and made me promise to call the moment I returned to NYC.

CD #2 called to tell me they loved my new headshot and wanted to confirm I was SAG, he then mad a joke that he’d gaind all the weight I’d lost. “You’re where?” he asked.

“I’m in LA rehearsing for my cruise ship gig.”

“You sing?”

mmm…

“Yes, I do.”

“Vinnie, why didn’t I know that, have I ever seen you sing?”

“No, I don’t think so.” I lied. It was better to let him think he’d never heard me sing then to remind him he had, three times…

The third CD, called just a moment ago – prompting this post – another “up-dating files” call and again a similar reaction to what I was currently involved with and again seemed surprised I could sing, updated my union status and made me promise to send my new headshot – they had my old “fat-Vinnie” headshot – via email, tomorrow and call as soon as I was back in NYC.

Maybe I should’ve looked for out-of-town work a little harder… who knew all it took to get called-in was not being available?

UGH!!

It’s one of the bigger disappointments most of us in the business we call show can agree on; after the audition, the call-back, the second call-back, the knowing, just knowing you’re going to book the gig, you get the phone call – the phone call, or so you think – asking for your measurements. After that, it a contract and that’s it, you’re in! HMN! Not always. I didn’t play Ben Franklin once because I was too fat, another time I didn’t play Santa Claus because I was too thin. It’s almost as if you want to yell to the producers, “Give me the job. I’ll pay for the costumes out of my own pocket! I know you like me. Today, you really like me.”

Personally I’ve never had costumes built especially for me since I was in collage – and then I was building them myself – the other day, I was measured, because the person I’m replacing and I are NOT the same size I thought nothing of it, then I was measured again by the man who’s building my suits… from scratch.

Color me blown away.

I’ve never put on a suit jacket which was made just for me, it was like putting on the perfectly sized glove – it caressed each lump and bulge and covered any and all imperfections, giving me that perfect “V” shape all men strive to have. Wow!

Now, along with only flying first class, I need to have all of my clothes custom-made, what’s happened to me. I better get rich right fast!

I’m a freaking performer! WHAT do you think I’m going to do, be a bartender?!?

The next question is almost always, “You sing?”WTF!?! …and this is from my friends.

Come on, I know, I haven’t been in a musical since 1999, but it’s not for lack of trying – it’s not like I didn’t do a cabaret almost every year since 2000… I know I’m not a pretty singer, but I do have freaking Musical Theatre training; I can carry a tune and sight read sheet music.

This Boat Job is validation. I know I shouldn’t need it or want it, but, it is, it’s validation.

My name is Vinnie Costa, and I’m a singer – and I can say that, I’m getting paid to do just that. No more just singing in the shower