For those who don't know, I work for a television station and I get to meet the occasional celebrity. Most of the time, I don't care. I'm not obsessed with celebrities and famous people are no better than me. Just because you were rich/lucky/pretty enough to become famous doesn't mean you're the kind of person I wanna meet. Hell, I've been on "Romper Room"--if anything people should get excited about meeting me. But on occasion, we do get a guest I do look forward to meeting.
Recently we were scheduled to have the winner of the Miss International contest in studio for our live news program (she's a local girl and hot--it's newsworthy). The beauty pageant concept disgusts me. I hate the idea of glamouring up someone and making them "beautiful" because it's all a farce. There's nothing real about any of those girls. From makeup covering any minor imperfections they may have to coaches that tell them how to walk, there's nothing sincere or real about the person--those gals have been trained to be beauty contestant winning machines and stopped being people a long time ago. The really sickening part is that there's always a winner--someone the judges deem to be more beautiful than the rest. If you look at those girls, all of them are attractive to the same level--what makes one better than the other? I'll bet if you get 20 drunk guys in a bar judging that contest, you'd have 20 different winners...and a whole lot belligerent men. But I digress...
I was a little curious to meet Miss International. If you think about it, she's bigtime. Miss America is limited to 50 beauties within these United States. But Miss International has a larger competition pool. And as much as I hate the French, I gotta admit they sure do have some hot chiks. If Miss International could beat out a few French foxes and Italian birds, she must be one helluva cutie.
But more importantly I was dying to see the ego on this chik--what she was like when the judges weren't around. I've never met a beauty contestant entrant firsthand (or at all). I told you how fake I felt beauty contests are: I wanted to know if Miss International was a fake as her winning persona. I also thought I might get a kick out of seeing how conceited she was. She had to be conceited: humble, blonde beauty contests winners are unheard of.
So you can imagine my disappointment when she informed us she wasn't gonna to do the show. I suppose I shouldn't be too shocked: it's not the first time a hot chik found something else to do other than spend the evening with me.
When the new director found out Miss International wasn't going to make it, he went nuts (I guess he was looking forward to meeting her too). She canceled on us about an hour or so before we were scheduled to air (who would have though blonde bimbos were unreliable) and now the show had a gapping five-minute hole to fill up. Why they allocated five minutes for her is beyond me--what could a beauty contest winner possibly have to talk about? Something tells me it's more likely she'd spend time talking about her hair than the crisis in the Middle East.
Now this is where the story gets good--really good. In fact, it takes irony to a whole new level. After franticly working the phones, one of the producers found someone--author of the book "Survive the Drive! How to Beat Freeway Traffic in Southern California." Since we're a Southern California television station, that's just enough of an angle to work. Everyone who lives here knows traffic sucks. Even the shortest drive can take ages with our freeway system. This chap claimed to know every back route and shortcut in SoCal. Freeways here aren't really that complicated--just packed. If he actually managed to turn his tips into a book, he must really know what he was talking about. That and anything is better than five minutes of dead air.
"How soon can he get here," the news director asked. Forty-five minutes, he was told. Unfortunately the show started in a half hour. "Looks like we'll find out if he knows what he was talking about."
The irony wasn't lost on any of us. It was the ultimate test for him to prove his knowledge. If anyone could get to the station in time, he was our man--the guy who knew enough about freeway shortcuts that it earned him a book deal.
The producer called him on the phone and informed him that we would love to have him as a guest ("Your book sounds fascinating!). Everyone else quickly returned to work and hoped for the best. That's when I thought I overheard the producing saying something that seemed extremely odd.
"Are you giving him directions," I asked.
The whole newsroom erupted in laughter. Our freeway "expert" did not know the best way to make it to our studio from Fullerton. It was like financial advisor seeking an accountant; a physiatrist seeking therapist; a hooker enrolling in a dating service.
---Despite our serious doubts, the Dr. Roadmap made good on his word. He came to our studios well-dressed, on-time, and charming as can be. He was the enthusiastic eccentric sort--the kind of guy who is full of numerous adventures and loves telling his tales. It's kind of blessing that it took a total catastrophe to get him out to our studio: his personality made for far better television than any beauty contestant could offer.
© 2006 siknerd.com
