Game Show
pg.10

But these people… this was their dream. I tried to gain some perspective. I thought of how I would feel if Madonna and George Michael conference-called me to come over for an intimate dinner with friends. Holy SHIT, this was a BIG DEAL to these people. This guy, this Bob Barker, he is like their Madonna. Like their… their Oprah. Wow. By replacing their idol with one of mine, I could understand the endless enthusiasm. I was just trying to get on a game show. But they were getting to be in the same room with their idol, on the same set of the show they’ve watched all their lives. This was big. And there he was!

Rather than coming through the doors, his traditional entrance, Bob came walking down one of the aisles, between two sections of standing and cheering fans, and for an 80-year-old, quite sprightly made his way up those stairs and onto the stage. Before we knew what was happening, the show began! Mass confusion abounded, and we could not hear the names over the cheering – which was why, as was explained earlier, they had people on each side of the stage holding giant cue cards with the names that were being called. I couldn’t see the cards. Every word, every sound effect, was drowned out by the screaming and clapping, and I was only vaguely aware of people hopping up and running down the aisles. While the noise was still deafening, the first product was already being announced! I didn’t even know what it was! What? Aren’t we supposed to hear the specs of the product to be bid upon? What’s going on?

The cheering stopped abruptly (I was sitting so far up I couldn’t see the “Applause” sign very well, so I just followed the crowd), and Bob blitzed the four ecstatic people standing beneath him. “What’s your bid?” They threw out numbers, fast and quick, and I wondered if they had even heard what the product was.

Come on Down!

So who did they call? The slut with the Uncle Bob shirt got up there pretty quickly. A young, sacrificial lamb on the Altar of Bob. Her mother must have been so proud. Frederick! Number One! I guess it does help to sleep outside the studio all night. First in line shows a LOT of dedication, man. Shirley! My favorite of the M.A.S.K. ladies. A black woman with long braids who liked to jump up and down A LOT. I wondered if she was wearing a bra, because those tits were everywhere – might want to wear some kind of protection on your face if you’re going to continue to jump around like that. She was SO excited. Bob backed away, afraid for his own safety, as she chased him around the set for a hug.

It was all happening so fast, I couldn’t keep track. The cheering was constant. They continued to torture us with that Applause sign, and people on stage ran behind the cameras, pushing their arms up in the air, pleading for us to be louder, more energetic. I’m sorry, I thought, but I must not have been at the same snack bar, because these people have obviously been fed CRACK, and I just don’t have it in me. Yet I somehow managed the strength to hold up my sign and smile every time the camera panned over me (I can’t wait to watch the show and see how stupid I look trying to catch the camera’s attention with the only sign in the audience).

One woman made it up to the stage to play a little game. She had to choose between two prices in order to win the prize, which was a wide-screen TV! She chose the wrong one, and was devastated. Bob was called to the side of the stage. The audience was still. Bob came back to the center, and explained to us that her loss needed to be re-taped. The actual price was supposed to have been revealed when he pushed a button, rather than when he ripped off the concealing cover. The chintzy old set had failed, and this poor contestant was now being asked to lose all over again. The crowd begged Bob to let her have the TV, but citing the rules against game-rigging, he pleaded with us to sound just as disappointed as we did the first time she lost then TV. Surprisingly, everyone complied. She chose the wrong number for the cameras a second time, and the crowd said, “AWWWW,” rather than “AAAHHH!” What a champ.

Between games, Bob took time to speak with the crowd. He fielded questions and bantered with the audience. I must say Bob is one charismatic fellow. He was more than generous with some of his answers, and he seemed to genuinely care for his fans. It was a treat to watch him work. The rest of the show was just as fast and confusing as the beginning. I couldn’t see much, couldn’t hear much, and I stopped bothering to stand for every freaking standing ovation (cold cream and pain patches do not a celebration make). Who can get THAT excited over a bicycle? I love shoes, but I don’t walk through the mall stopping and clapping for every hot new pair that catches my eye. It just seemed so surreal, all of it.

The show was coming to an end. I was only slightly disappointed not to be called as a contestant. Shirley won a mobile home trailer in the showcase. For this I cheered loudly, because I was really happy she won. She was pretty happy too, and her violently bouncing melons proclaimed her glee.

It was over. Bob was gone. The crowd slowly filed out of the studio. They didn’t want it to be over. That’s probably why so many of them keep coming back. Everyone seemed so energized by the show, whereas I was simply exhausted. I heard comments like, “next time,” and “wasn’t that amazing?” Uh, no. It wasn’t. And next time? Are you insane? My TPiR adventure was over, there was no way I’d go through a day competing with fanatics like that again. But enough of that, TWoF is almost on, and this sign I’m working on has to be perfect. That’s right, Pat, I love you even MORE than I love Bob, and I’m going to prove it to you with every vowel I buy!

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