not boring

"Are you here for Survivor?" I asked the first guy I see as I followed the signs that read Registration.

"Ah, NO," he replies with just a bit of aggravation.

"Oh, okay," I say as I continue down the hall to the next Registration sign.

As I reach the top of the stairs and look to my right I see the sign I have been waiting for, Line Starts Here.

No one is in line. Am I the first one?

I guess I am four hours early.

Walking back to the car I wonder what all these other people are doing gambling at 5 o'clock in the morning? Strange.

There is no way I am going to go first so I stall until a line forms...I am #27.

The anticipation of not knowing what to expect is making me sick. I have distracted my nerves by making conversation with the Caption in the Army to my right and the Baptist Youth Pastor to my left. I have already gone to the bathroom three times. I just want to know if there is going to be a private room, a roped off area, if they are going to ask me questions and what questions are they going to ask me?

I JUST WANT TO KNOW.

The constant ding ding ding buzz buzz buzz of the slot machines right behind me are slowly causing me to go insane.

I start practicing potential questions in my head. What makes you interesting? Why should we pick you? Who do you admire most from past Survivors?

I still have three hours to wade in my nerves.
................

Finally, I get a glimpse of what is to come.

OH MY GOSH.

A stage is reveiled. And there are people starting to sit in tables and set up their space. It seems that everyone has moved from the slot machines to the audience. I guess I couldn't expect these people to continue pushing those buttons and waiting for nothing if there was an actual freak show going on.

Jake and I find a table.

I see that the camera is set up, the Survivor sign is up, the guy is check check checking the microphone.

After I think my nerves cannot shake my leg any longer, #1 gets on stage. He just starts talking. I don't even know what he is saying, oh my gosh, he starts to take off his shirt. What is he doing?

#2, probably a little drunk
#3, not enough information

#4, not bad but not that funny
#5, another one takes off their shirt

Then I start to panic. I haven't prepared a damn thing. All I know is that I cannot cannot be boring or take off my clothes.

I start practicing more questions in my head. Why am I interesting?

OH GOD I HAVE NO IDEA.

And then something happens. I've got it!!!! My nerves instantly turn into adrenaline. I turn to Jake and I tell him I am ready, I am ready to go!

We are only on #10.

Jake asks if I think I can do it...? I say, "OH yeah, I know I can!!"

#15, takes off all clothes
................

#27, me. When I finally get to the side stage I am so excited, I cannot wait to get up there...then I realize I have completely forgotten my opening line.

No fear, it comes back to me as the guy tapes the microphone on me...but not before he asks me, "Are you taking off your shirt?" I reply, "NO." He looks relieved.

What happens on stage for the next two minutes I don't know if I can exactly retell.

You might be thinking....Well, what did you do Anne???

I did what anyone would do that wants to be noticed.

I told three very truthful stories I knew people would remember because they all involved poop.

Good old fashioned shit!

I didn't spare any details to this room full of three-hundred strangers.

#27, not boring