I AM THE NEXT AMERICAN IDOL: PART 2

We last left me on a hot morning in Vegas, making references to many an outdated pop phenomenon.  We now return, in line, to watch the spectacle unfold. Here is the much anticipated sequel!! 

(the crazy line)

After 5 hours in line, we finally were able to go inside. Only to get into another line. Another half hour or so, and we were signed in, had the wrist bands, and were given tickets with seat assignments where we were to go sit in the arena. We went and took our seats, along with the other thousands of hopefuls. 

(early early morning- Day 1)

Picture the E Center. And picture it filled to its maximum capacity. And imagine that all of those people really thought they were “IT.” That was my experience. On the floor of the arena there were 2 British men who began to address the crowd. Ken and Nigel (of recent “So You Think You Can Dance“ fame), the real powers behind Idol, the main producers for the show, asked if someone in the masses was going to be the next American Idol. The noise was deafening in response. Then they asked if there was the next William Hung in the group. Me and a few others yelled for that one.  

(forum shops)

We were to return the next day between four and six a.m., (welcome to show biz, they said) and sit in the exact seat we were sitting in then. That was when the first audition would really happen. And then we were released. Seven hours later, and one wristband richer, my friends and I went on to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory and shopping at the Forum Shops, while others had nowhere to go. 

(waiting for our turn: Day 2. Love how thin my arm looks...)

The next morning, again before the hot desert sun had risen, we arrived at The ’Orleans and took our designated seats. Once all the seats were filled, at about 6:30 a.m., they asked the crowd to sing The Pointer Sister’s hit, I’m so Excited. The cameras were there on the contestants for the first time, so everyone was excited. The words were given on a large jumbo tron screen, and the tens of thousands of us sang and danced and screamed. 

And then they asked us to sing it again. They needed different camera shots, different angles, they needed us to be even more energetic, even more lively. So we sang it again. And again. And again. By the 4^th or 5^th time around, the enthusiasm was lost. And then they asked us to sing the Elvis classic, Viva Las Vegas. And so we sang that song. (Or rather tried, as nobody knew the words to the verses. But we always nailed the chorus). And then we sang that one again. And again. And yet again. We were told that each audition city would have a musical montage, and a “theme song.” Sadly, when the show finally aired, there were no Pointer Sisters to be heard. All that was shown was one second of “Viva Las Vegas.” 

(the all access wristband. please note this is before I discovered the wonders of NAIR)

Then the “personal release” form was handed out to each one of us. We were to sign our lives away for that afternoon. As a reader/writer, the verbiage used in this form was fascinating. I, of course, took an extra copy home. Here are some of my favorite lines (emphasis added) “I understand that I may reveal, and other parties may reveal, information about me that is of a personal, private, embarrassing, or unfavorable nature, which information may be factual and/or fictional. I further understand that my appearance, depiction and/or portrayal in the Program may be disparaging, defamatory, embarrassing, or of an otherwise unfavorable nature which may expose me to public ridicule, humiliation or condemnation….I acknowledge and agree that Producer shall have the right to broadcast and other wise exploit…d

epictions or portrayals in any manner whatsoever in any and all media now known or hereafter devised, or for any other purposes, throughout the universe in perpetuity…I agree to follow all of Producer’s rules…which rules are subject to change at Producer’s sole discretion…Producer reserves the right, exercisable at any time…to disqualify me from the program should I…fail to abide by the rules or regulations of the Program, or for any other reason or for no reason at all.” Basically it said that they owned our image forever and ever and into the eternities. And we all signed it willingly. 

(the audition line up)

And then, finally, it was time. In the floor arena area there were 10 folding tables, each divided by a small curtain partition. At each table sat two people, our first judges. The arena seating was in a U shape, and we were at the hump. They started at one end, and had a section go, row by row, single file, and line up 4 at each table. And then lined people up behind them, until each line had about 10 people. And then they started to sing. Each group of 4 would take a step forward to their table, and then the judges would point to one of them and say, “Go.” And then the person would step forward, sing for 20 seconds or so, and then they would say stop. And then they would point to the second person. “Go.” Each of the 4 would take their turn. Then all 4 would step up to the table and would hear “No, no, no, no” and their wrist bands would be cut off and they would have to exit the building immediately. You were not allowed to stay for any reason. Some left with their head high, some left in tears. But the common factor was that most left. If there was a rare, “Yes,” they kept the wrist band, and were given a yellow sheet of paper admitting them to the next round. The “yes” people went thru another door, amidst screams and cheers from the others waiting in the stands.

So all we had to do was wait for our turn. Easier said than done. It seemed streamlined, having 40 people trying out at a time. But it takes longer than you would think. We did not have our turn until around 4 in the afternoon. And we weren’t allowed to leave. So people started to wander around and talk to one another. The concession stands were open selling pretzels and licorice and soda. For me that was perfect. Seeing these auditions was the best spectator event I have ever been to. 

With all the time to kill most people began to rehearse in the hallways, bathrooms, stairwells- anywhere that wasn’t in the actual arena. Small groups formed where the contestants turned into critics. We watched many performances out in the hallway. And again, here I was thinking, “Who are these people?! They can’t be for real!” The cheese factor that existed in all of them was almost overwhelming. Picture an amateur musical production that you’ve seen in your life. The smiles are too big, the gestures exaggerated, the tunes a bit off key. But because of the energy, you can’t help but be entertained. 

We watched and critiqued many a performance. We got several people to change their song choices, to tone down their movements, or to take out that one extra run. There were some that wouldn’t perform for their competition. They would seclude themselves in a corner somewhere, and sing quietly. There were also those with the tape recorders, listening to themselves, critiquing themselves. I was asked many times that day to sing for the others. I just smiled and said, “I don’t want to make you too intimidated.” .....

OH THE SUSPENSE!!! WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I FINALLY SANG FOR THEM?

FIND OUT TOMORROW...