Day 1: Wristband/Stadium heat torture chamber

Ok, now we're awake. We think it's still Saturday. We have food on the way. With a little sleep in us, we can now recount the days events in chronological order. This is all mostly true.

-->8:00 a.m.: We arrive at the Stadium but first need to go to the bathroom and decide McDonalds will do (for the record, ew.). We are thinking, yahoo, we're sooo on time. However, the entire clientele already has wristbands. We grilled women in the bathroom about i.d. strictness. They assured us this wasn't exactly TSA. Yay!

-->8:23 a.m.: We pull up to the stadium gates where the woman asks us for $10. A total shock to me. Brittani, "Rach? The cash?"....Rachael, "Me?".....Brittani, "I said it to you three times during the drive! I said, do you have cash? You said yes. I said $10? You said yes."......Rachael, "Really? I thought you said some cash? So no, I don't have $10." So they stopped all traffic for us so we could U-Turn out of there.

-->8:29 a.m.: Back to the parking gates where we had the woman $10.

-->8:35 a.m.: So all of the mental and emotional prepartion in the world can’t prepare you for the actual experience. I think the first shock went something like this, “Wow. That’s a long line. Um, we’ve been walking for awhile and we’re still not to the end of the line. Sucks.”

-->9ish: Start-up conversation with young girl who tried out four years ago but claims she was too young. She knew a lot about the audition process and gave our little line group a bunch of "advice." She declared she was singing Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You." We felt like that was wrong. But of course didn't say anything. This is a competition people!

-->around 9:30 a.m.: We get kind of annoyed with that group of people and discover that due to my cunning and size, I'm able to weave myself through the crowds everytime a new group was let in. Brittani was very impressed with my ability to lunge 2-3 groups ahead in the line everytime it moved. I told her it was due to a lifetime of being short. People glared.

-->9:45 a.m.: Some girl, "So wait how old are you?", Me, "27." ....Some girl, "Wait seriously?"....Me, "uh..yep."

-->10:00 a.m.: Me, "Oh my god Brittani look at that little dog!!"...Brittani, "Oh that is soooo cute...it's like a Chihuahua?"....Me, "Uh..nooo...duh...it's a Doberman.." ....Brittani, "No, it's not a Doberman. It's a Min-pin." Rachael, "Uh I don't know if you realize but they make really little Dobermans."...Brittani, "NO they DON'T they make Min-Pins.."....Me, "I'm hot..."

-->10:15 a.m.: “That girl is puking...wait...is she? Yes….there’s really no other reason to have half your body in a garbage can like that right?”

-->10:30ish..: They started selling bottled water for $4.50 a piece. People were disgusted. We tried to explain supply and demand - and that this was a reasonable price for this particular market. We're also suprised at how far along we are. We had originally ball parked HOURS. But things were moving. Mainly due to the cutting. This is about when Brittani started speculating how much more time we would have.

-->10:40ish...: Brittani guessing still....after the 11th, “You know what, we’re looking at another hour I bet….I think we’re not that close actually,” I responded, “Oh my god that is the equivalent of are we there yet – you need to stop saying that.”

-->10:50 a.m.: We see men in red! We see men in red! With ropes! This is when we charge! They lift the ropes. The poor bastards right behind us are ruthlessly cut off by the young men in red. They sigh. People are split up from families, the situation becomes real. We are in. A voice from above (God?) declares, "PLEASE HAVE YOU IDENTIFICATION IN HAND. IF YOU ARE 18 YEARS OLD OR YOUNGER YOU NEED TO HAVE YOUR LEGAL GUARDIAN WITH YOU. IF YOU DO NOT PLEASE LEAVE YOU ARE WASTING OUT TIME AND YOURS." I made the case that it was sort of all a big like, waster of all time, just being there.

-->10:51 a.m.:

Rach: We’re in!!

Brit: I lost my ID!**

Rach: OK, I have to go on without you!

** please note that the girls behind us were very nice and demanded the crowd part to look for Brittani's ID

Brit: Oh wait it’s in my back pocket.


-->10:52 a.m.: We're to a table! A woman is there, she greets us with a warm smile. I tell her that I love life. She gives us wristbands (yellow for me, silver for Brittani). She told us she got the job on Craigslist. She hands us a form with the next set of instructions. This is where we are unsure of our legal obligations -- but we learn the two songs our city is going to be singing for the cameras. Let's just say they rhyme with Balifornia Beamin, and Dime Docken on Mooshine (Brittani is telling me that doesn't actually rhyme...whatever).

-->11:00 a.m.: Trot past line with wristbands. Feel good about ourselves. Get grilled by to nice young men (gay?) and give them the schpiel. We are now among the people who are in the know. As still more gathered around to begin their journey, we were on to step two. Rachael/Brittani 1/Simon 0!!!

-->3:00 p.m.: We've inhaled burgers, cookie and icecream at Santa Monica hotspot The Counter. We're now on speaking terms again (3 hours in the sun, 3 hours in Southern California traffic, and completely empty stomachs make people disown each other..)

-->Now: Watching inspiring dream come true movies like the 1992 ice skating classic, "The Cutting Edge."


Tomorrow we have a lot of errands to get done, and then we're off to San Diego AGAIN to check-in to our hotel (thanks mom!). Our new instructions tell us to be at the stadium at 5 a.m.

Food's here! Until tomorrow!

PS - sorry no pictures. It was so hot and miserable that we literally spaced it.