I cannot dance, sing or act. My parents, in an effort to give me some creative outlet, signed me up for violin lessons when I was 6 or 7. Every tune I played sounded like a chalk-on-the-blackboard version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I have no artistic talent, but I do have a soul that yearns for the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd.

Thanks to Pittsburgh, I have transformed my Broadway fantasy into a reality.

	James Hilston, Post-Gazette Click illustration for larger image.

After a 35-year absence, I returned home to Pittsburgh four summers ago. I quickly discovered that Pittsburgh has a very large sub-population of ushers.

This group, numbering in the hundreds, is a microcosm of the city. It consists of a diversity of races, socioeconomic backgrounds and ages, although the majority of ushers tends to be female senior citizens. Most ushers are retired; they embrace ushering as a substitute for the "real" job they once had. Other Pittsburghers like myself become ushers to meet those who share our love of culture or to save money while still being able to enjoy that culture.

No matter how diverse we are, we ushers are still easily recognized.

Most theaters, with minor exceptions, adhere to a color code of black and white: black shoes, black socks and black pants coordinated with a white shirt. Some theaters add a jacket to the ensemble, while others include a vest and bow tie. I sometimes feel like a waitress or a penguin marching off to work, but once I enter the theater, where the guards nod in recognition or the lobby chandelier shines on me like a spotlight, I know I am the person I have always longed to be.

The ushers and I are also the people who read the entertainment section of the paper before the headline news or sports page. We grab all the brochures from the Theater Square Box Office, and we stuff our closets with Playbills. After awhile, we begin to recognize certain actors who grace the various Pittsburgh stages. They might not know us, but we consider them special friends or extended family who enrich our lives.

Ushering, of course, is more than a free ticket to a show. It is a job that demands certain responsibilities of its ushers, although none of these regulations is mentally or physically challenging. We are expected to arrive at the theater from one to two hours before the curtain rises; we sometimes cannot leave until our section has emptied out. We stuff programs before the show, and we often clean up the programs and debris left behind by patrons once the show ends.

At intermission, we stand at our posts, directing patrons to restrooms and ensuring that no beverages (except for bottled water) enter the theater. Once the house lights dim, we join the audience, although some theaters do not feel comfortable if we sit in front of or next to ticket-holding patrons.

Most of all, we must hide a dark mood behind a welcoming smile because our job as representatives of Pittsburgh and its culture is to greet and treat all patrons -- even those who insist that their tickets are correct, despite our politely pointing out they are at the wrong theater on the wrong day -- with courtesy and respect.

My friends and family often ask me if ushering is worth it. Don't you want to be a guest when you go out, not someone who has to cater to others? Are you so taken in by the few venues that pay minimum wage that you can't say no to ushering?

Yes, ushering is worth it.What other job allows a talented nobody like me to be a part of the magic of theater?

The minute I put on my black-and-white outfit and my name tag, I become a theater person. I get to be the one who seats dozens of tiny Belles in frilly dressses, knowing they will be awed by the CLO's production of "Beauty and the Beast" at the Benedum. I am the lucky one who sees Little League boys cheer for "Honus and Me" as they leave City Theatre. I watch through my own tears as my audience, moved by our mutual love for Pittsburgh and our Steelers, cries at the end of the Public Theater's "The Chief." With my other audience, the one at the Pittsburgh Irish and Classical Theater, I get to engage in animated discussions about such plays as "Via Dolorosa" or "Julius Caesar."

Clark Kent trades in his suit for a cape to become the Man of Steel. Peter Parker replaces his casual attire to spin from web to web as Spider-man. While not a superhero, I do feel super powers when I put on my black and white uniform that connects me with Pittsburgh's rich cultural world of comedy and tragedy, musical and drama, dance and opera, symphony and jazz, lectures and discussions.

Life is a cabaret -- when you are a Pittsburgh usher!