A Flair for Drama

Finding true passion comes with a rush

Discovering your passion is nothing like a love story. There are no bells that ring softly when you find it. The world doesn’t rotate any slower. On the contrary, it’s a rush. It might take you time to find it, but once you do, you know it. Forget what I said… It’s a lot like a love story. It’s the kind of stuff you would want to tell your grandkids about.

“Once upon a time there was a little boy who was very quiet and very bullied”.

I cut him off.

“Are you going to narrate your story in the 3rd person?”
He sighs.
“It’s more dramatic this way”.

He’s about to tell me more about the little boy when the waitress interrupts him to take our order.

“This little boy is in 8th grade, still quiet and still bullied. He sees an auditions poster for his school’s production of Les Miserables. And he thinks Hmm, why not?”

A young mother with two kids and nanny sit on the table next to us. The youngest boy waves hello at us. I wave hello back before signaling Omar to continue his story.

“I got in. It wasn’t a big deal because I was just ensemble. I was playing a kid that would stand on a table and sing. Except for when I was on stage, I kept quiet. I was invisible. Whenever we stood in a line across the stage, I would always be in the back. I was not hiding on purpose, I just always found myself heading to the back.”

Our sandwiches found their way to the table. Omar had to take a short pause to greet them.

“You! You in the back!
That was the director. No one was sure who she was calling.
Me? I asked.

Yeah you!
She told me that I was the only kid she noticed, even though I was standing behind everyone else. She said that I reminded her of a child actor — a famous one — that she worked with. Since then, people came over to me and talked to me. I don’t know it for a fact but I’m pretty sure that she’s the one who sent them.”

He takes a bite out of his sandwich. The little boy sitting on the table next to us stares at him with envy. The mother smiles at me when she notices me.

“They remembered me, even months after the show. Me. The little kid on the table. I barely had a couple of minutes and I really didn’t think that I was all that memorable; but they thought so! They stopped in the hallway, even two years after Les Mis, just to tell me that they recognized me.”

He takes another bite.

“I came back to the theater, every year. In 9th grade, I auditioned for Timon. I sang In the Jungle which I have been practicing for weeks. They cast me as Little Simba!”

The little boy next table got very excited at the mention of Simba.

He goes on telling me about his roles in Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Chicago

and Frozen.

“Frozen? Really?

“The director makes the picks. It was really popular, and most of our audience were kids, so…”

“Excuse me?”

That was the little boy’s mother.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you. I love the story… but your sandwich is getting cold.”

Omar looks at the sandwich. He only has taken two bites out of his. I have (almost) finished mine.

I let him eat in peace for a bit while I chat with our neighbor.

“After nine sold-out shows of Frozen, I was exhausted. I couldn’t do this for a living. I thought that was the last time I would step foot on a stage. I graduate. I was moving to Lebanon and majoring in Finance. Then I get a phone call from the director. There was a production of Les Miserables but with professionals this time and she wanted me to audition”.

He pauses — probably for dramatic effect.

“I get cast for Joly, a revolutionary with a few lines. You should have seen me. I was so confident. I have lost my shell. I was ready to share my talent with the world… but then, during rehearsals, Jean Valjean starts singing. He had previously said that singing was not his forte. But he’s so good. I mean so so good. I’m nothing in comparison… and if I’m nothing in that small pool of talents, how can I be anything anywhere else?”

He skips to university years and tells me about the Drama Club.

Our neighbors pay the bill and leave the restaurant, not before waving goodbye. I’m thinking of the play Omar directed last spring.

the auditorium was filled with thunderous applause. The cast and crew were on stage, indulging the audience, reverence after reverence. Omar was in the control room, watching his show from behind the last row — and knowing him, probably behind the tech booth, worried. Next thing I know, the room starts cheering. Everyone turns around and looks at the small window of the control room.

They’re saying his name.
They’re calling him.

Him in the back.

Him.

Omar will be graduating soon. What’s the plan? Right now, he’s writing a play while completing an internship that has absolutely nothing to do with theater. Soon, he will be pursuing a Master’s degree in Theater.