Trying hard to be an ‘American Idol’
It’s the one thing everyone dreams about; the title of being the
American Idol. The whole nation watches the good and the bad
– and votes for their favorite. So naturally, as a performer for
more than 7 years, I decided it was my turn. I packed my things,
took along my father, and headed to beautiful San Diego.
Trying hard to be an ‘American Idol’
It’s the one thing everyone dreams about; the title of being the American Idol. The whole nation watches the good and the bad – and votes for their favorite. So naturally, as a performer for more than 7 years, I decided it was my turn. I packed my things, took along my father, and headed to beautiful San Diego.
The audition process is a lot longer than what you think it would be. First, you need a wrist band. No yellow wrist band, no audition. Sitting in line for 5 hours in pants and furry boots is not the way to go in San Diego weather. When I finally got my wristband, I had one mission, and one mission only; DO NOT get the wristband wet or take it off. I thought this might be a problem because the audition was two days later.
So part one, mission complete. I bought rubber gloves, cut a chunk out, and taped it over my wristband. The looks on people’s faces at Sea World were priceless, but hey, I was dry!
Then the big day had arrived. After being in line for hours, dark turned into light, and the line started to move. We were then piled to the side of the stadium and the producer came out with his mega phone. He then proceeded to have us all chant silly little phrases into the camera for the show. This included “Welcome to San Diego!” “Season 7 starts in San Diego!” and my favorite, “Stay classy, San Diego!”
After robotically saying what we needed to say, we were then coralled into the stadium. We sat in seats assigned to us on the ticket we were given when we got our wristband.
When I thought the worst was over, I found that it had just begun. Oh joy, we all have to sing “California Dreamin.” During this, I learned that my dad is what we call “rhythmically challenged.” While waving our hands in the air like we just didn’t care to the rhythm of the song, my dad’s arms were everywhere. Sorry dad, I still love you though.
Finally, the real audition process began, the one you DON’T see on TV.
There are 12 booths with two TV producers sitting nice and cool in them. Going by sections, you line up, and by fours, you go to the booth you are told who to go to. Then, one by one, you sing for the producers, and when the fourth one is done, they will then tell you whether or not you are privileged to go to the second round.
In the second round, there is another audition and then you are off to see the popular trio who will then tell you the famous line “you’re going to Hollywood.”
Five extremely hot hours and eight sections later, it was finally my turn. I got up there, told them where I was from and was sent to a booth. I sang my little heart out to a woman in designer glasses and patiently waited. Then just like that, my dreams were shattered. “Sorry, you’re just not what we are looking for this year” is what Miss Gucci told my whole group, and that was that.
So I didn’t walk away the next American idol, but I walked away with a great experience. I’m still going to sing no matter what. But make sure when January rolls around to watch Sombrero Man and his mime sidekick. That should be one for the books.
In the words of Ryan Seacrest, Adamson, out.
