My vision of an absolutely perfect day takes place in New York, NY. This day would be a breezy, crisp fall day. It starts off by waking, and getting ready for the exciting day ahead of me. I would take the subway to my rehearsals for “Phantom of the Opera” on Broadway. After I get out of my rehearsal for lunch break, I would go to Tony’s Di Napoli Italian Restaurant. My meal would be composed of scrumptious mushroom ravioli for my entrée, and cherry tartufo for dessert. Subsequently, I would stroll in Central Park a few hours before my “Phantom” performance. Some people absolutely hate the Big Apple. Some say the natives are grouchy, while others say the food is overpriced. I can agree to several of these statements, although, NYC is my dream home.
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When I go to Central Park afore my Broadway performance, I would lie on the grass, luxuriating in the yellowish-orange leaves. I would listen to serene music, alleviating myself. At five o’clock, I would commute by a taxi to Majestic Theatre, between Broadway and Eighth Avenue. As I arrive the theatre at five-fifteen, my dresser greets me, and brings me to the dressing room. My makeup artist does some magic. After that procedure, the hairdresser puts my cap and curly-haired wig. Lastly, I get into my first ensemble, the “Hannibal” costume. After my opening numbers, I would go offstage to change into my bulky hoop dress. When I sing popular hits like “Phantom of the Opera,” and “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,” I look up at the immense, dazzling stage lights. I realize that I am actually performing on the Broadway stage I fantasized about as a child and teenager. It hits me that this is the absolutely flawless day in my
When I go to Central Park afore my Broadway performance, I would lie on the grass, luxuriating in the yellowish-orange leaves. I would listen to serene music, alleviating myself. At five o’clock, I would commute by a taxi to Majestic Theatre, between Broadway and Eighth Avenue. As I arrive the theatre at five-fifteen, my dresser greets me, and brings me to the dressing room. My makeup artist does some magic. After that procedure, the hairdresser puts my cap and curly-haired wig. Lastly, I get into my first ensemble, the “Hannibal” costume. After my opening numbers, I would go offstage to change into my bulky hoop dress. When I sing popular hits like “Phantom of the Opera,” and “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,” I look up at the immense, dazzling stage lights. I realize that I am actually performing on the Broadway stage I fantasized about as a child and teenager. It hits me that this is the absolutely flawless day in my