Thursday, September 15, 2011

Day 240: Que Sera, Vieira

2011 Total Earnings:  $12,338

Today's Contest:  Who Wants to Be A Millionaire Audition
Prize:  Becoming a Millionaire
How to Enter:

"I can do that", I said as I watched the woman on Minute to Win It put pantyhose on her head attached to a baseball and knock over bottles.  "I can totes do that slash prolly have done that in a drunken/high feat of hi-LAHHHR-ity or in an embarrassing animal exercise in thea-tah school."

Thus began my mission to find a game show to get on.  The only one that films here in NYC is          Who Wants to Be A Millionaire.  After I double checked that it wasn't 2006, and they were still actually filming episodes, I signed up online and got an audition.

I approached the ABC building on 66th Street with a certain level of calm.  It was an overcast, misty day and I have a history of good things happening under gloomy weather conditions.  After grabbing a chewy granola bar from the new stand, I approached the 20 something production assistant dressed in black under an umbrella.  "Are you the 5:45 group?"  "Yeah for Millionaire?"  "Yup, ID please.  Wait at the back of the line".  I was surprised he didn't whisk me to the front, bypassing the test and lead me straight to the show.          Didn't he see the twinkle in my eye of confidence, or the aura around me that was sure to dazzle everyone I came in contact with today, culminating in a jovial, hilarious, easy-breezy japaneezy on air game show exchange with Meredith Veirra at her Millionaire kiosk, giving her pause and compelling her to ask"Just who are you??"  

Apparently the production assistant didn't know I had Secreted the shit out of this moment and visualized the whole shuh-bang.
So it was back of the line for me with the other contestant hopefuls.  Still beaming with certainty, I stood behind a lady in plaid with flip flops (ps-it's raining gurl) and a man who could place 3rd in a Nick Nolte look alike contest.  Nolte III was also wearing a horrendous Hawaiian shirt.  Between his offense to all fashion evah, and Ms. Under-prepareds footwear, my confidence grew.
We marched into the holding area and walked through a security station, complete with a walk through metal scanner.  After finding our seats to take a test, The bright young test coordinators bellowed instructions on with an air of authority.  They could smell our desperation.  We reeked of it.  My heart began to pound as we were told that we would have 10 minutes to answer 30 questions.  The first test was for their regular trivia show.  The second was for their "Movie" week.  I had been studying and brushing up on all things cinema.  My strategy was to go with my first instinct, or pick The French Connection if it's ever an option (it's won everything supposedly...I've never seen it).
We lifted our Number 2's and began.  My heart continued to throb as I filled in the little boxes... very SAT-like.. to the myriad of multiple choice trivia questions.   On the regular test I thought I did pretty well.  I was at least sure I knew all the answers having to do with theater, art and music (newsflash: homosexual answers cultural questions correctly.)  I would undoubtedly nail the test if they ever have a special  Gay Homosexual week.

There was one  that stumped me:
What was in Alexander the Great's casket with him?
It's either honey, yogurt, wine or olive oil (delicious options)
I've googled it now for a while...aka 8 minutes...and still can't find the answer...

"Your ten minutes is up!  Pencils down".  All of our tests had numbers and we would listen for those numbers to see if they were called.  If you're number is called, you stand up and move immediately onto the interview section. It all felt very chorus line...  "God I hope I get it...I Hope I get it."

I held my breath, worried that any additional noise in my head would prevent me from hearing them call my number.  203.
She called the first group of people who would move one step closer to a million, a new life and Vieira.
"94.  105.  214.  156.  63."
Mine wasn't called.  Mine wasn't called.  Mine wasn't called??

I could still make it on the movie group.
"76.  205.  332.  84."

The wave of disappointment and shame hit me hard.  I hadn't felt this upset at an audition since that dance call for Damn Yankees where I ball-changed so hard I threw up.

I collected my busted umbrella and no-longer-relevant self description sheet where I had lied about having a dog named "Sandy" like from the movie Annie, and ran out of there.

I had totes already spent the money in my head, was living  in Bali, and gotten a TV deal from my appearance with Vieirz.

And ya know who DID get to stay around?....Nick Nolte the third.