Friday, March 2, 2007

An exercise in stress: Inside American Idol

Yesterday fate intervened on my behalf. A friend of a friend had been on a waiting list for American Idol tickets for a year and a half. They "pulled her card" the day before yesterday and one of the four tickets trickled down to li'l ole me. For those of you just joining us, my best friend Brandon Rogers, is a contestant this season.

I've watched a bit of Idol before this year, but only during the "wow, I can't believe someone told that person they can sing" audition episodes of the show. Let me tell you there is no way exaggerate how stressful these elimination shows are.

Joanne, the ticket mistress, got in line around noon and was number five in line out of what would end up being close to one hundred people. I spent the hours between noon and two o'clock pacing a hole in my floor. I've made the mistake of keeping up with the betting odds and some of the blogs that said that Brandon's spot on the show was in serious Jeopardy after the judges lampooned him for attempting to be subtle (taste is not one of the five senses on reality TV, lesson learned). From 2:00 to 3:30 I did my time in the line on Beverly Drive, and although it is LA, it was not warm in the shade. From 3:30 to 4:15 they corralled us into a holding pen where we were sheltered from the wind. Once we finally entered the studio I was split up from my three new traveling companions and shoved into the front row because I'm "tall" (at only 6'1" I could block a Ryan Seacrest jump shot sitting Indian stlye).

What you don't see at home:

-The entire set of American Idol fits about 60 people. Each contestant gets two guest tickets, one for mom and one for dad in most cases. Once it goes to the top 12 and the show is moved to the Kodak Theater, the contestants will presumably have more tickets to dispense.

-They keep TV sets icy cold. I believe that's because silicon looks better when it's chilled. My knees were chattering. I started clapping at random moments just so frostbite wouldn't set in.

-It was five o'clock Pacific time when the show started, and that marked at least the fifth hour in a row I'd spent fretting and obsessing (fretsessing?) over my friend and what would happen to him on this godforsaken TV show. When I got home later that night, I watched in horror as the camera settled on my face at least three different times. I was not bored! I was freezing effing cold, and had a high probability of having a heart attack at age 28 due to Idol-related stress. By the way, I took a healthy amount of ribbing from friends and family alike for looking like a psycho on national tv. Thanks, guys! Perhaps I should've taken my sweatshirt off or gotten a haircut to avoid that serial killer look I was sporting, although I think I would've instantly frozen solid to carbonite a la Han Solo in whateverStarWarsmoviethatwas.


Don't forget your scarf!


-Poor Alaina sounded even worse in person than she did on the broadcast. Singing on national TV after your dreams have publicly been crushed has got to be up there with singing at a funeral for "worst gigs of all time". On the other hand, I remember A.J. sounding even better in person than he did on TV during his swan song.

-As we were filing out of the studio all the contestants had to pose for group pictures and no less than ten of the twenty were weeping openly. That's going to be the poster I want on my bedroom wall.

My favorite moment of the night, which happened just after the end of the hour that this show was slotted for, was Leslie Hunt improvising these words into "Feein' Good":

"Why did I decide to scat? America don't care for jazz!"

Sing it sister, I'm not playing guitar for my health!

A friend later sent me a text message:

"Please note that three out of four people kicked off american idol sang bublé songs. Jazz pop kiss of death!"

A heartfelt thanks to everyone who voted for Brandon. The czechs in the mail. Get your redial skillz ready for next week!

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