9th Ring of Hell - the BOR Version - Part Two

7:02 AM – We spot a contestant dressed as a pimp. I observe that he should have no trouble finding employees in this crowd.

8:15 AM – WE GET IN!!! Alas. We think we’re victorious, but little do we know our entire victory consists of gaining access to hell.

9:30 AM – We are yelling “I’m the next American Idol!” and “Stay Classy San Diego!” along with 10,000 other Idol cult members on the cue of the irritating producer with the megaphone. I try to explain the concept of “no camera aimed anywhere in our vicinity” to the sheep around us, but they aren’t having any of it. When the producer says wave your arms, they wave and smile like it’s their own personal close-up. They have the nerve to glare at me when I sit back in my seat and refuse to play along. The camera never pointed anywhere but at a small section of folks far far away from us. The cool-aid is beginning to lose its effect on Rachael.

10 AM – We realize we have been screwed, but royally. In a mix-up, the last people to get their wristbands will audition first and the people who camped out in the hills above Qualcomm Stadium to be first in line (seriously – we met people at McDonald’s who did exactly this) will audition last. I smell a riot a’brewin’.

10:10 AM – They start auditioning the first group.

10:23 AM – We (Rachael was the one with the sense, I was just smart enough to follow) have the sense to leave our sun-scorched seats and head undercover to escape the heat. We stake out the bit of stadium floor next to the lemonade stand that will become my home for the next 5 hours. Rachael will abandon me for most of that, which is fine, because she seems to have summoned some energy while I have just enough to stare off into space and drool.

11:25 AM – Despair.

11:46 AM – Rachael declares that neither one of us can look at the Idol audition progress for 2 hours. I start to agree and then remember that she is not the boss of me. I remind her who is the boss of whom and she concedes with a gentle, “crap”.