I got the call on Wednesday afternoon.
The Sun needed a brave reporter to get some front-line experience at
yesterday's Canadian Idol tryouts.
Or perhaps they needed a sucker -- one that happened to fall between the
eligible age group of 16-26.
As a journalism intern in The Sun's Entertainment department since January,
I never expected to get an assignment like this.
But they asked, and I happily accepted.
And what a crazy 16-hour experience it was:
WEDNESDAY
7 P.M.
The sign on the door reads: 'Welcome to the 2004 Toronto Auditions!'
There I am -- suitcase, backpack, laptop, blanket and boyfriend in tow. And
evidently, my editors didn't feel that my complete lack of singing abilities
was an issue.
7:40 P.M.
We reach the second-last row to the end of the line. A small family of
people are camped out at the end of this row -- with an almost entire empty
row between them and the last person in line.
A man tells me they prefer to be at the end of the row near the exit (a
break in the barriers) because his wife is pregnant.
Hmmm.
We decide that we, too, prefer to be in close proximity to the exit.
Cue security confrontation No. 1.
"You can't stay here, folks, you must move up to fill in the area," the
round security guard in the red shirt informs us. "Unless you have an excuse
like these people (pointing to the pregnant lady and her family).
"I'm pregnant, too," I say.
My boyfriend's face is white until the nudge in the hip I give him to let
him in on my little ploy allows him to exhale.
The security guard glares at us.
I then point at my moral support. "And, this is my attorney."
Okay, I'm desperate. But it works -- our friendly neighbourhood security
guard moves on to his herding duties elsewhere and we're free for a moment
to almost sit down.
8:16 P.M.
It's pizza time.
$10.25 later, we're enjoying (and I use that term very loosely) two slices
of cheese pizza (one of which chips one of my attorney's teeth) and a shared
bottle of water.
9:28 P.M.
The live Jumbotron broadcast of American Idol livens up the crowd -- the
sound of Simon's voice is raising jeers and cheers and just plain chaos.
"I found the entire performance horrible," he says -- and rightfully so --
after an ear-piercing contestant's performance.
Oh my God. The judges are going to eat me alive. I've never sung anything
outside of my car or shower in my entire life.
I try not to think about it.
THURSDAY
2:18 A.M.
The glaring baseball lights dim a little bit and the crowd cheers.
My neighbour Kevin is telling us some of his old high-school stories. A
group of guys in jerseys and Du Rags are having a freestyle battle nearby
and one of them is dribbling a basketball. And the sound echoes through the
place with each hit.
My attorney and I lie down in the Canadian Idol communal bed for the first
time and stare up at the 'Dome's ceiling. From the corner of my eye, I can
see someone's loaf of bread hanging from the barrier beside me. I'm pretty
sure I'm using the accompanying tub of peanut butter as a footrest.
6:20 A.M.
Fire alarm goes off.
And continues to blare for more than an hour.
The guy on the intercom keeps announcing some presumably important
information regarding the alarm.
But it's completely inaudible each time.
And, to top it all off, my attorney is bailing. He's mumbling something
about work.
8:00 A.M.
I brush my teeth and try to freshen my appearance while sharing a small,
square mirror with about eight other women in the washroom.
And then all goes black.
Great. No lights. Figures.
I hear someone over the speakers trying to get the crowd pumped.
And the early morning roars are more than my already aching head can bear.
I head to Pizza Pizza to get a coffee and can't help but wonder if it's
customary for these people to be eating pizza at 8 in the morning.
I head outside to get some much-needed natural light.
8:30 A.M.
I've lost my spot in line.
The line has moved in my absence and my line-buddies are nowhere to be
found. And neither can I see the few items (blanket, pillow, water bottle) I
left as markers.
8:38 A.M.
Cue security confrontation No. 867:
"You are not allowed back into this area without a wristband," the big, bald
guard says.
Oh my God. I missed the wristband distribution. That's it, I'm done. If you
don't get a wristband, you don't audition today.
I freak out.
To no avail.
I plead with them.
Nothing.
I tell them I'm from The Sun.
But I don't have a media pass (it wouldn't be a real Idol experience with
the luxury of a media pass, right?)
And, out of nowhere, like a guardian angel, a CTV publicist asks if I am
Sherri from The Sun, and I say yes, and the next thing I know is I've got a
wristband and I'm back in the game. Er, show.
8:45 A.M.
Ushered to the registration tables. Sign my soul away. Receive my contestant
number in return.
8:55 A.M.
Spot Ben Mulroney and turn into a paparazzo. He agrees to take a picture
with me, despite the scornful looks from the security around him.
9:29 A.M.
I receive the first and only freebie of the past two days: A sample pack of
Juicy Fruit.
Someone is asking us to please welcome the host of Canadian Idol, Mr. Ben
Mulroney -- for the umpteenth time today.
They're trying to get the crowd to cheer wildly so they can get some good
video footage for the show.
And it's not happening.
"I need you to scream like you've never screamed before," the booming voice
demands. "Let's get some mass hysteria going."
9:42 A.M.
Call to Mom.
She asks me to say hi to Sass for her.
I remind her that I can't sing and so I won't be making it to the third
round with the celebrity judges.
9:55 A.M.
"Hey, everyone, you must be tired of me by now," Mulroney says over the
reverberating speakers.
Blah, blah, blah.
Here's a special guest, the World Idol, Kurt Nilsen. And here's another
special guest, Zack Werner.
"It's not about how well you sing, it's about who you are," says Werner.
10:01 A.M.
The first number gets called: 2845.
My number: 2858.
We're informed that if we make it past the first round, we'll get a pink
ticket, the second round a green ticket, and the third round -- the highly
coveted gold ticket.
"If you get a gold ticket, you get to stay in Toronto! And stay at The
SkyDome!"
They call all the numbers from 2845 to 2920.
I'm in the first heat.
10:12 A.M.
I'm lined up.
I start to get really nervous. I haven't even picked a song. What to sing,
what to sing?
O Canada?
O Brutal.
2857? Tell me you're feeling my pain here.
"No, not at all."
2856?
"Nope." After being selected to sing at last night's Raptors game and
winning the contest, she's certainly not nervous.
Now I'm beginning to shake.
Last-minute advice?
"You gotta feel the music," says 2857. "It's gotta be part of you."
Part of me. Okay. No idea what that means.
"Let's hear you sing," he says.
Oh God.
And so I sing for the first time at the Canadian Idol tryouts.
"It's not that bad," says 2857. "Maybe you'll make it to the next round.
William Hung did."
10:40 A.M.
They bring my group in.
A couple of the show's producers are sitting at the other end of the trailer
at a table -- with a video camera.
One of them is friendly, the other doesn't say a word the entire time.
The friendly one tells us to take turns standing on the "X" on the floor and
state our name, our number, and sing a verse and a chorus.
Does O Canada have a verse and a chorus, I wonder?
2855 steps forward. She sings a song I don't recognize, but she's
incredible.
2856, a.k.a. Raptors game winner, steps forward. She sings Ain't No Mountain
High Enough. And she is clearly very talented.
2857 sings Stand By Me and shows some talent, too.
Then me.
"Hi, my name is Sherri Wood, my number is 2858, and I'm going to sing O
Canada. Oh -- and I will be very embarrassed if I forget the words."
"No problem, just make them up if you do," says friendly judge.
And so I sing. For about 25 seconds. And I think I even sound okay.
But I don't think I'm in an appropriate state of mind to make a clear
judgment. I haven't slept in about 30 hours and I haven't tasted food since
last night's pizza.
2859 has his turn in the spotlight and then we wait.
Ten seconds later, the friendly judge says, "I'm going to ask 2855 to stay
and the rest of you can go."
And that was that.
I walk out of the trailer -- dazed and confused.
Is it really over?
And why do I have a strange sinking sadness? I knew I wasn't going to move
on. Did I have some secret hope that I might surprise myself and become the
next Ryan Malcolm?
I hang my head and start the long, loser trek.
"How was it?" someone yells.
"It was a great experience," I say.
10:54 A.M.
Sixteen hours later, my Canadian Idol experience is over.
I feel a mixture of sorrow and confusion. I'm filthy and stinky. Hunger and
exhaustion give way to what I can only describe as bewilderment.
And then I see Zack Werner being harassed by a security guard.
Apparently, the guard wanted to see some sort of backstage pass before
letting him through.
Strangely, I begin to feel better. And somewhat satisfied after all.
