Too big to put all in one post, so I'm breaking it up. Still too big, but whatever.
Some of this is faithful note-taking from the day, the rest is added recollections.
3 Am-ish – According to Rachael, I talk in my sleep. Apparently I was also rather belligerent when she tried to get me to stop. The moral of the story? Better to let me just run my mouth when I’m on a roll.
A wake-up call followed soon thereafter, then a brief encounter at the hotel valet stand with a teen version of Fabio and his yuppie dad, who didn’t look all that thrilled to be up at 4:30 in the morning to watch his son audition for a freaking reality show. We didn’t realize this was the smartest person we’d ever met in our entire lives.
5:34 AM – It was only 30 minutes in line before Rachael, with utter sincerity in her voice, finally answered the question “What are you singing?” with “I don’t know. I’m trying to decide between Whitney or Celine.” It took every cell of my body to avoid cracking up. In retrospect, that brief moment was the outstanding highlight of the day for me.
5:42 AM – The moment I know, for absolute certainty, that we have been duped yet again by those wily Idol producers. We don’t need to be in the stadium for hours and hours but they have put the fear of missing the audition into us, and so we are here at 5 am, 3 and a half hours before they will even let us in, just so they can get some good shots of a crazy line. Bastards. Sweet, naïve, innocent Rachael is still convinced there is an important reason we needed to be there this early. Worry not. She’ll jade quickly.
6:09 AM – Rachael is taking this all very seriously. She will not reveal what she is singing nor does she want to tip her hand in any way to her competition. I realize, tragically, this means there will be no sing-offs. The $2.99 echo microphone we bought at rite-aid will never see the light of day. Rachael shushes me for some innocuous comment and I proclaim, “You’re no fun anymore. I think you’ve been drinking the cool-aid.”
6:21 AM – We spot our first Idol freaks – a terrifying mime and her mariachi back-up. Many more to follow, including 2 insanely drunk UK lads handing out business cards belonging to a mortgage broker named Eva. These two boys will be among the first to get through to the next round.
6:22 AM – We realize I’ve left my camera in the car. Even though we won’t move for another 2 hours, rach is terrified if I leave the line something important will happen. Our fans will have to settle for camera phone pictures.
6:43 AM – I realize that in the entire span of this crazy Idol adventure, Rachael has not sung one single bar of Celine Dion. This is certainly a blessing to count. I am content.
6:51 AM – The line is getting to Rach. She announces “Trying to get famous is hard.”
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Satan Eve
Sorry for the posting pause, I was languishing away in early-wake-up-call land.
So, Sunday evening. After a day of preparations, we made our way once again down the 405/5. Rachael had dubbed this “the ugliest drive in America”. I tried to dissuade her of this notion – “Um, no, Rach – it’s actually quite pretty, there’s ocean and green and stuff” but she wasn’t having any of it. Clearly she hasn’t spent time on the New Jersey Turnpike. Then, out of the blue, somewhere between Culver City and Oceanside, Rach exclaims “this is pretty” as if our earlier discussion had never occurred. I, of course, remind her and she realizes that hunger and exhaustion can affect the way one perceives their surroundings. It was magic hour the whole way down, we sang our hearts out to the “Rach’s Possible Audition Songs” mix and a good time was had by all. Which is a good thing, because we were only a few short hours away from entering the 9th ring of hell. We’ve seen where the devil lives, people. It’s no fun there. I recommend you behave yourselves.
Dinner calls but I will post again soon with the gory details.
So, Sunday evening. After a day of preparations, we made our way once again down the 405/5. Rachael had dubbed this “the ugliest drive in America”. I tried to dissuade her of this notion – “Um, no, Rach – it’s actually quite pretty, there’s ocean and green and stuff” but she wasn’t having any of it. Clearly she hasn’t spent time on the New Jersey Turnpike. Then, out of the blue, somewhere between Culver City and Oceanside, Rach exclaims “this is pretty” as if our earlier discussion had never occurred. I, of course, remind her and she realizes that hunger and exhaustion can affect the way one perceives their surroundings. It was magic hour the whole way down, we sang our hearts out to the “Rach’s Possible Audition Songs” mix and a good time was had by all. Which is a good thing, because we were only a few short hours away from entering the 9th ring of hell. We’ve seen where the devil lives, people. It’s no fun there. I recommend you behave yourselves.
Dinner calls but I will post again soon with the gory details.
She stole my joke...
Despite the fact that Rachael has already blown the whistle on my Harriet Tubman/Underground Railroad joke (about as clever as I get, folks, so I hope you enjoyed it), I will post my version soon. I just haven't gotten quite enough sleep yet. Maybe tonight or tomorrow morning.
+THE NINTH RING OF HELL+
Alright folks, here’s what went down. Prepare yourself for a roller coaster of emotions – the suspense is going to kill you. Except, you know I don’t make it anywhere really, but still. Anyhoo…..
The night before we enjoyed a lovely trip down the interstate for the third time on our way from L.A. to San Diego. We pulled into the Westin Hotel (very lovely, thanks mom!) where we were greeted like stars due to the Idol labeled wristbands. I don’t think the staff their realized that they gave anything that breathes a wristband but I wasn’t about to correct them and reveled in the whispers and cheers of, “Good luck!” As if they were going to see me on TV.
The next morning I popped up at 3:30 a.m., made Brittani coffee and began beautifying.
We hopped in the green bug and were on our way back to what Brittani later named the 9th ring of hell – Qualcom Stadium. Brittani mumbled about not needing to be there this early because they just want aerial shots of the crowds huddled around the stadium, etc. – but I was not taking any chances.
Then hour four of standing came around. And it really sucked. This is where I began to realize what would become the lesson of the rest of the trip: Alls fair in love and war? They ought to add reality television to that. It’s not fair. Nothing is just or good. It’s just soulless producers getting everything they need out of you, and promising nothing in return. Sure, I’ve treated a boyfriend (or two) this way in the past at a more immature time in my life, but I feel I’ve suffered enough because of it. Namely by not being famous yet. But I digress. The point I’m making is that only two days, and six combined hours of standing in line into the competition, these people had effectively worn me down. I stopped worrying about becoming the next American Idol, and day dreamed about things like cable television, eating sushi and flat shoes.
Other contestants in line were SUPER EXCITED to wave at the local news cameras. I kept telling Brittani how much I hated all people. She tried to add humor to the situation. I stared at the ground and kept thinking about how much I hated people. A pair of friends were “jamming” to one iPod near by singing every single awful song known to man (songs I admit I previously enjoyed). I wanted them to stop. I was considering using our umbrella. I told Brittani that. The guy in front of us agreed. He started to run down all of the ideas he had that were better than this. He wondered aloud to his friend:
“Remember that time we did a pub crawl? Yeah that was a better idea than this..Or that time we ordered pizza? ….That was a good one….better than this….”
+INSIDE THE STADIUM+
Finally they ushered us in and Brittani started in with the, “See – everyone gets in at the same time. We didn’t need to be here so early.” I acknowledged this as being correct confident that the worst was now over – let the judging begin!
But the judging would not begin. We found our seats in section 19. It was very hot out. I was sweating. Over in the earlier sections the producers had a crane with a camera mounted on it and it was clear they were the big group that would be on TV, not our section. The producer came out and started to teach everyone the words to California Dreamin – assigning the boys a part and the girls the echo. At first I thought (perhaps out loud), “These suckers – I’m not ruining my voice just so they can get this city singing a song together.” However once the crowd started singing my middle school chorus roots kicked in and I just couldn’t resist! I sang it loud and sang it proud. Giving into my better instincts that this was all a sham, and for a couple of choruses let myself be part of this moment. Brittani sang loud too.
Next they shot some cheering and then finally at around 10:20 a.m. they announced that they were starting on the opposite side of the stadium than us. People were to empty out on to the field when it was their rows turn, then they would line up in groups of four to sing for judges placed at 13 booths. That’s right, 10,000 + people and only 13 booths. Add that to the fact that they started with the section that got their tickets LAST and it became clear that we were totally screwed.
I was still upbeat though and said to Brittani, “Hey, cheer up buddy! Let’s see how long they really get through this before we despair.” THREE HOURS LATER they were only on section three. We had by this point moved our camp inside and out of the sun. It was disgusting. We sat on that gross stadium floor. We ran out of things to talk about. We were stressed. We didn’t hate each other but we hated all of life and people which makes talking about boys, or celebrities, or pondering how exemplary this show was of the commoditization of the American dream and how that dream is largely a myth that (based on this particular experience) benefits only corporate interests, difficult.
We would pop our head out into the stands and would see a lucky talented person or freak get the big yellow paper that indicated they were moving on walking up the winner flight of stares (apparently they still had several rounds to make it through before Simon, Randy and Paula at that point). But mostly we saw dreams crushed. After all that cheering and singing for the show, they left in the hundreds, through a loser tunnel, back to the monotony of their own life (otherwise known as outside the stadium). I would have found this disheartening except that I still deep down thought I had a shot and instead was happy to see more people leave.
But when we realized this was moving slower than a snails pace, I figured out that my only option was the cheat. Ok, honestly I thought about cheating from the beginning, but now I really was going to try to do it. I left Brittani for an hour to investigate. Poor poor Brittani – stuck on the floor of the stadium, with only a soft cooler and electrolyte water from Whole Foods to keep her company. Just a shell of the woman I had entered the stadium with.
+THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD OF IDOL+
I made my way to the sections that were about to empty on to the field – a very enviable position. I wondered if they checked tickets or not but didn’t know how or who to ask. Then suddenly I ran into my friend Sarah from San Francisco. Once we were over the shock we were both there she told me she met people! People who had done this before and would show us the way onto that field!! I told her I had to get my cousin and she said to hurry and meet her in the underground stairway tunnel. I ran to get Brittani and we packed up and met Sarah in the tunnel. It was easy, the plan was to empty out onto the field along with the next section. Once they started moving Brittani packed me up and wished me luck. It was risky but we made it onto the field! I couldn’t believe it! We were gitty – we effectively cut thousands of people. At this point it wasn’t as much about becoming a star but about getting the EFF out of there sooner rather than later.
I waved to Brittani in the stands back in our old section near the judging. She later told me that people wondered aloud if they were actually checking tickets to which she replied, “No. No they are not.” We hope that it inspired Idol mutiny but we will never know.
+SINGING TIME!+
While I was up near the booths I heard AMAZING voices – but none of them got through. My friend Sarah is a trained opera singer and should have had a fair chance. But she would not make it either. One nerdy looking guy with glasses who sang so softly the judges had to lean forward to hear him, got the yellow ticket to head on up the winners stairs. Finally it was my turn. I stepped up with my group to the table, just inches away from the judges ears. They barely looked up and seemed bored out of their minds. The first guy in my group sang something R&Bish. It was just ok and I had a feeling his golden "grill" may have been distracting. The next girl sang "Landslide" and it was just OK. They cut her off almost immediately hardly looking up. The next girl sang something really obscure and probably from a Christian Rock station because there were a lot of lyrics about, "light" and "your power up above." Then it was my turn. Kind of an awkward start because they don't really acknowledge your existence much less that it is your turn to sing. So I just started in with Mercedes Benz. It sounded pretty good and they snapped their heads up. I finished the first verse and wasn't asked to zip it so I kept singing. Thirty seconds must have gone by and they finally smiled at me and said thanks. I watched the lady judge's hand, willing it to grab that yellow paper and give it to me - probably mentally referring to her in this moment as "Biatch" worked against me in terms of Karma. But instead they said, "Thanks guys...sorry..." And before it could sink in, a pimply kid with an Idol t-shirt and visor was there yelling, "Over here guys let's cut those wristbands off!!" Then boom - you are done. The entire adventure is over.
+LOSER TUNNEL+
Sarah (who Brittani named the Harriet Tubman of American Idol) and I saw each other and laughed and headed out into the sunset through the tunnel that lead us out to J24 where our cars were parked. We thanked GOD that we figured out how to cheat. Because we got to sing. And it was just 2:30ish, and we were heading home. I saw an Oscar Myer Wiener van and wondered in my head, "Why would they put the Wiener van out here? Just because my dream has been crushed doesn't necessarily put me in the mood for a consolation wiener." I learned later from news reports they were holding some kind of jingle singing contest.
Brittani appeared by the bug with all of our crap attached to her looking very tired. I drove. We hopped on the freeway and laughed hysterically, probably deliriously. We were somehow thrilled that the best part of the weekend was still ahead: cable TV and frozen yogurt. w00t!!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Thank you!
Everyone - thanks for all of your support! We survived and so did our cousinship. But it was, in a lot of ways, HELL ON EARTH. There is so much to say, and I'll blog more about it tonight (yesterday was full of amazing and hilarious moments) but alas, I did not make it past the first round.
Don't cry for me Argentina! It's all good. There were some bright moments (as well as very dark), not to mention some really informative behind the scenes Idol info we'll share a little later.
For now, it's back to the old day job (one that I enjoy thankfully). And I'll have to save my voice for the karaoke crowds =)
Don't cry for me Argentina! It's all good. There were some bright moments (as well as very dark), not to mention some really informative behind the scenes Idol info we'll share a little later.
For now, it's back to the old day job (one that I enjoy thankfully). And I'll have to save my voice for the karaoke crowds =)
Monday, July 30, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
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.
-->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.
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