The Secret Life of N.A.R.P.S

Ladies and Gentlemen, Izzy and Maddie a.k.a. the NARPs are back and ready to make a comeback that is hopefully more successful than Hilary Duff’s latest single (#duffwillrise). For those who are new to The Campus and our column, welcome. To returning fans, where was our fan mail this summer? And to all of you froshies out there who spent your high school career sleeping in a bed covered with SAT books and don’t know what NARPs stands for, first of all, was that really worth it? Secondly, please introduce yourself to Urbandictionary.com ASAP and memorize the following acronym: Non-Athletic Regular People. If you are one of those people who thought throwing those SAT books across your room counted as your daily exercise, you are one of us.

Last semester, we spent twelve weeks struggling to train for a half-marathon that culminated in our not running a half-marathon. Although this appears as a failure, we were finally able to join in the ranks of people who use foreign phrases like “I just went on a run … voluntarily” or “My leg is cramping.” This semester, the NARPs have decided to explore other unknown realms of the campus. Ever wonder what happens when you put two rhythmically-challenged people in a Riddim twerk practice? Or when two die-hard karaoke fans who, after months of practice, have failed to master Seasons of Love from Rent join an a capella practice? Fortunately, this column will chronicle our awkward, embarrassing, and enlightening journeys into those uncomfortable predicaments.

As Izzy and Maddie contemplated the subject of their first column while heading into Atwater dining hall for macaroni and cheese last week, the answer appeared right in front of their faces. Otter Nonsense Auditions Thursday/Friday 4:30-6:30 Forest East Lounge. What better way to kick off a column about stepping out of one’s comfort zone than diving head first into an improv group audition. In order to maximize anxiety and potential asthma attacks, Maddie and Izzy decided to eliminate any safety blankets and try out on different days.

Izzy arrived on Thursday otterly flustered (see what we did there?) ­­— Brainerd’s Fall Fest had run out of free pie. She then had a performance some would say was worse than Ashlee Simpson getting caught lip-syncing on Saturday Night Live. Halfway through the audition, an Otters member advised the auditioners to “switch up” their characters, if they had been gravitating toward a certain personality — go for the opposite. Izzy realized this directly applied to her as she had been embodying a loud-mouthed and hyper scatterbrain. In other words, she had been playing herself. For the next skit, Izzy found herself in the corner of the room, hiding behind a chair, failing to respond to any of her fellow actor’s questions. The audience called scene shortly thereafter.

Maddie was exceptionally nervous for her audition as her last encounter with the word “tryouts” involved getting cut from her no-cut-policy freshman basketball team. Her skits found her in a range of strange predicaments including, but not limited to, stealing a peacock from the zoo in order to use its feathers for dorm decoration. Things only got weirder when her improv partner set her up to kill someone by wrapping shoelaces around an invisible person’s neck. Thankfully, the audience called scene before the murder was mimed. Maddie hopes that the skit that started approaching incestual territory outshined her flubbed felony.

Although the auditions went very poorly for us, we could agree that the adrenaline rush after the tryouts was unbelievable. Putting themselves completely out of their comfort zones caused an incredible amount of anxiety, but surprisingly no embarrassment. As much as we would love to attribute the lack of humiliation to our never-ending levels of self-confidence, it had more to do with the environment. The Otter members were incredibly welcoming, and ended the auditions in a supportive group huddle (is this what being on a team feels like?). To the Otters, thank you for a hilariously fun and awkward time. To our readers, we’ll catch you in two weeks when we chronicle our attempted gyrations during a Riddim hip-hop practice.