Would-be “˜Idols’ storm L.A., brave cold, hunger

Justin Guarini’s got nothin’ on me. I could take him
and his evil Sideshow Bob hair, no sweat.

I’ve been a loyal “American Idol” fan since
the first episode. So when Fox announced Monday’s Los Angeles
auditions, I imagined the opportunity through rose-colored glasses:
sharing my love for cheesy pop music, meeting lots of beautiful
women in sexy attire, and partying until the break of dawn. When I
actually arrived on Sunday at midnight, I found miles of would-be
pop stars either fast asleep or sleep-deprived at the bitterly cold
Rose Bowl. It was going to be a long night, or so I thought.

I first encountered contestant number 673, which I inferred from
the permanent marker on her wrist. A student from Glendale, 673 had
been in line since Saturday afternoon, and informed me that those
ahead of her had been at the Rose Bowl as early as Thursday. 673
showed up alone, but took part in a clever system to stay clean and
fed.

“Basically, a couple people step out of line, ask their
neighbors to save their spot, and pick up some fast food for their
block,” 673 said. “Also, people like me live pretty
close, so we can take people back to our homes for a hot shower and
a clean bathroom.”

Once I found the end of the line, I was branded with my own
number, 2,680, which conjured horrible visions of Murphy Hall.

Over 3,000 people abandoned their normal lives to join this
reality TV circus in Pasadena with sleeping bags, makeup cases and
food rations in tow. Being the incredibly intelligent person I was,
I had only brought a backpack. I could see it now: “Here lies
2,680, whose dying wish was a verbal beating from Simon
Cowell.”

Luckily, I had a friend, number 2,681. A 17-year-old Downey
native, 2,681 wore fishnet stockings and a fashionably frayed black
skirt (read “freezing”) and covered herself with a
blue, knitted blanket. She was kind enough to share it with me, and
we spent most of the night trying to stay warm, running the gamut
of polite conversation to keep awake. 2,681 and I found that
rubbing your feet with your hands is quite effective as we huddled
up as close to each other as possible. (I assure you I was a
gentleman. Besides, her mom was chaperoning her.)

Having spent most of my time in the 2,600 block, I wanted to
find out what was going on in other parts of the line, and I knew
exactly where to go: the toilets. The queue for the bathroom was
the central hub for audition line news. 1,699 told everyone about
the auditioning process in Austin, Texas, which she had also
attended. 301 was happy to tell anyone listening about her trek
from Wisconsin, while 2,874 and 2,875 were laughing about a guy who
crooned “good morning” at 2 a.m., to everyone’s
chagrin.

When the sun finally rose, the auditioning staff made us sign
soul-sucking release statements while overly chipper marketing
drones hocked Herbal Essences samples. I don’t know about
everyone else in line, but the last thing I needed at 6 a.m. was an
“organic experience.” What’s next? Staffers in
Ford Focuses serving Coke for breakfast?

The producers ordered us to pick up camp and walk forward in
line in anticipation of the big audition. As everyone walked, it
was hard to ignore the trail of trash on the ground: paper cups,
dirty blankets, beauty magazines, talent scouting flyers, remnants
of the awful audition process you never see on “Access
Hollywood.” But everyone, on the whole, remained very
positive. 2,681 said she was “excited and anticipatory but
still a little cold.” People were swapping audition tips,
touching up each other’s faces, keeping each other warm and
collected.

The moment of truth finally arrived around 8 a.m. I didn’t
get selected, unfortunately, but by the end, it was beside the
point. I had the privilege of joining a charitable community
ironically forged from the cynical cauldron of capitalist excess. I
expected to drive home a lesser man, but as I thawed, I found the
“American Idol” auditioning experience warmer than a
foot-rubbing. To 2,681, 673 and the other integers I met along the
way, I, 2,680, salute your drive and aspirations. But bring more
blankets next time.

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