Some people think life starts at conception (idiots), but I believe life truly starts when you move out of your parentโs house. I grew up in Alaska and knew early on that I didnโt belong there.
This face, body, and personality were way too good to be hidden underneath twelve layers of protective snow gear.
I preferred a concrete jungle over fields of frozen tundra. I wanted to hear the incessant honking of taxis over the deafening silence of the remote wilderness. And goddammit, Iโd take the smell of hot subway piss any day over trying to breathe in forty-below weather.
I spent my entire life dreaming of the day I could move to New York City, and thatโs exactly what I did on August 23, 2004.
I turned in my two weeksโ notice at my fancy TV news reporter job in Anchorage and bought a one-way ticket to Manhattan. My family and friends tried to talk me out of moving, especially since 9/11 was pretty fresh and Osama Bin Laden was still hiding in a cave somewhere.
But nothing could stop me from moving to New York City. Not even a terrorist organization.
My red-eye from Fairbanks landed in Newark in the early afternoon, with only one layover in Minneapolis. Sweat leaked out of every pore on my body as I stood in line for a taxi. Iโd never felt humidity before. Alaska only has two temperatures: fucking cold and not that fucking cold.
โTwenty-third and sixth,โ I told the driver, trying to sound like a seasoned pro and not a girl whose entire life was packed into two suitcases in the trunk. I was on my way to my first-ever audition. I learned about it on Craigslist when I was googling how to become a famous actress. I signed up for a 4 pm slot, and the closer we got to the Holland tunnel, the more I felt like Iโd just made a colossal mistake. I was betting on myself, and it was the riskiest thing Iโd ever done besides confronting a murderer at the Ted Stevens International Airport a few months earlier.
I got out of the taxi and scanned my eyes up and down the nondescript building where my audition was being held. I took a deep breath and gave myself a little mental pep-talk, โThis is all youโve ever wanted, Lauren. You are here. You are doing it. Go inside and give them hell.โ
As I reached for the handle, the door flung open, and a woman who looked like my long-lost twin walked out.
I went inside. There was no check-in desk, and I couldnโt find any elevators. I heard the light tapping of stilettos clinking down the staircase. It was another attractive blonde woman.
โHi, do you know if this is where theyโre doing Indie Film News auditions?โ I asked her.
โYeah.โ She said while simultaneously rolling her eyes.
Thatโs when I realized my audition was on the top floor of a walk-up building, where elevators did not exist. Whoever designed this building was my new mortal enemy.
I had no choice but to climb up, dragging my suitcases behind me step by fucking step.
Earlier that Spring, I went with the Army on some rescue drills up Denali, the tallest mountain in North America. But nothing could compare to the difficulty of this six-floor walk-up.
I was no longer swimming in sweat; I was drowning in it. When I got to the top of the final flight of stairs, I dropped to my knees and kissed the beautiful ground. Iโd never been so happy to see a landing place in my life.
I unzipped my suitcase and dabbed the moisture off my body with a T-shirt, then put on a pink silk camisole I ordered from Victoriaโs Secret specifically for this audition. I was a hot mess, but I couldnโt turn back now.
A sign taped to the door read, โCasting: Indie Film News.โ After traveling four thousand three hundred miles, two airplanes, a taxi with no A/C, and scaling an entire ass building, I was finally in the right place.
I opened the door and was shocked to see an entire room filled with gorgeous blonde women who looked just. Like. Me.
Fuck, I thought. I am so fucked; what have I done.
โSign in here.โ a young woman behind a desk instructed me. I wrote my name down on a sheet of paper with a hundred other names ahead of mine. In the section asking for my agent, I just wrote down โmyself.โ Some women were rehearsing their lines under their breath; others were staring off into another dimension. I just sat there questioning my entire existence.
โLauren Reeves,โ a man said as he poked his head out from behind the audition door.
โHeadshot?โ He asked while reaching out his hand.
A week earlier, I had my eleven-year-old sister Ilaura take photos of me standing in front of a birch tree in my parentsโ backyard. I printed twenty copies at Kinkoโs because I knew I couldnโt show up to an audition empty-handed. I dug one out of my bag and watched it travel down a long table from person to person.
A gay man with curly ginger hair studied me intensely, โI know you from somewhere.โ
โThatโs impossible,โ I told him. โI literally just moved here, like, two hours ago.โ He probably had me mistaken for one of my doppelgangers in the other room.
โThis is going to bother me; youโre so familiar.โ
I shrugged, knowing the probability of us ever crossing paths was point zero zero zero point zero percent.
โItโll come to me. Letโs roll.โ
The man who called me in turned on the camera. I introduced myself, and then temporarily left my body while I said my lines.
I barely got through the last sentence when the ginger shouted and snapped his fingers at me, โThatโs it! Did you do the news in Alaska, by chance?โ
โYeah, I did! I just quit two weeks ago and moved here. As in I just left Alaska last night.โ
โI took a cruise there this summer, and I was shocked, SHOCKED, to see a good-looking person doing the news.โ This was such a flex for me.
After leaving the audition, I dragged my luggage to a hostel in the East Village, where I stayed until I found an apartment. Later that night I got a call from a 212 number, which made my heart jump a little.
โYou got the job, Lauren. Look out for a call sheet. Weโre shooting at the Angelika in Soho; youโre interviewing Robert Altman between screenings.โ
I didnโt understand what any of those words meant, but I was excited about it.
Maybe moving to New York City wasnโt a bad idea after all. This was the day my life officially started.