Curtains
I’ve had a long, strange love affair with game shows…
1997:
All my buddies were busy making plans. A week filled with keg stands and pretty girls in small bikinis. It was time for spring break debauchery. My plans, on the other hand, were a bit different. All centered around a gray-haired man named Bob. Or maybe I’d call him Mr. Barker. Either way, I’d find out soon enough. No Florida in my future. I was headed out west to try my luck on The Price Is Right. And my 21-year-old brain kept visualizing the same image…
Holding a shiny set of keys.
The idea of showing up empty-handed and leaving with a new car a few hours later?
It. Blew. My. Mind.
Honestly, how cool is that? Especially for deal people like us!
Yeah, well, nobody else was even slightly interested in this oddball plan. Kelley (from a different yearslong journey) was the only one who shared any of my passion. But, alas, we were a broke pair of college kids. She didn’t have the cash to make it work and I was still years away from having a fat stack of miles and points. So I jumped on my US Airways jet plane of dreams alone…
California was a bizarre and incredibly exciting place. It truly felt like a different world from West Virginia. I booked a room at the Farmer’s Daughter Motel across the street from CBS. I’m quite certain it was a dump but all I remember is hope and possibilities. I slept maybe two hours that night. There was just so much excitement in the air…
I walked across the street soon after sunrise and joined a couple hundred people already in line. Many of them friendly. Some of them eccentric. A few seemed to be visitors from a neighboring planet. While I didn’t get called down to play a game that day, I did learn a very important game show lesson…
They want lunatics.
If you lose your mind telling producers your name…imagine what might you do if you win a car?
Ah, got it.
I also noticed how the first person in line got chosen to play. Maybe that’s always the case? Interesting…
After scarfing down a quick dinner that night and taking a power nap, I showed up again. Just after midnight. Me and my trusty Farmer’s Daughter Motel blanket wrapped tight. The groggy CBS security guard looked confused. He asked why I was there before quickly realizing the answer. He dished out an enthusiastic high-five for my passion.
The show that day? Man, it was a blur. All the lights, sounds, and nonstop cheering totally hypnotizes people. Everything moves at turbo speed. Before I knew it, Bob Barker called my name and the curtain opened…revealing a car.
YES!
Apparently, I lost that game. It’s hard to remember much of anything since I was floating ten feet off the ground. I left with a bed and a desk. It certainly didn’t feel like a victory. I was there to win a car. And that didn’t happen. Also, I’d never calculated how bad it might feel to lose a car. This would be a very long flight back to West Virginia.
As I left the studio, I walked past a line of hundreds of people waiting for the next taping. They asked how it went and I shared my story. Maybe they felt bad. I don’t know, maybe it was impossible to miss the disappointment in my eyes…because they stood up and gave me a round of applause. That actually felt pretty nice. After doing my paperwork, I checked out of the motel and headed to my jet plane of pain.
Man, I really would love to give it another shot one day. But The Price Is Right stores all that information and it’s once per lifetime. Oh well…
Over a decade later:
On the phone one day, my mom mentioned:
“Hey, you should try The Price Is Right again. You live in the same city now. And you really wanted to win a car in college. Remember?”
Uh, of course I remember.
Annoyed, I explained how it’s once per lifetime and I already had my shot at a car. They keep records…it’s not like I can just sneak in. But moms are persistent. Unfazed, she said, “Just double-check.” I looked it up the next day. And, sure enough, the rule had changed. Price Is Right had a new host and it was now once per decade. Hell yeah!
Ok, no screwing around this time. It’s obvious what this takes:
- Act like a crazy person to get on.
- When it’s game time, calm the fuck down.
Everyone gets rattled. Keep your feet on the ground…don’t float away into the clouds with all that noise and excitement…and you’ll have a real shot to win.
Sure enough, I got my chance. This time, I won my game. Just never got to play for the real goal. I left with a fancy Jura espresso machine and $4,500. Great day, of course. But still no showcase. And still no car.
A few years later:
The dream was technically winning a car from The Price Is Right. But I was 0-for-2 there and couldn’t go back for years. So, Let’s Make A Deal entered the equation. It was the day after Halloween so I quickly grabbed a couple of clearance items. This show requires a costume. Hmm…a referee outfit and a giant bling dollar-sign necklace? Kind of random but I can make it work.
(Editor’s note: It’s not hard to get to play on a game show. Just requires a few seconds of acting like an insane person. The challenging part is getting to play for the right prize. That requires some luck. And, of course, winning that prize)
I showed up bright and early. Said I was a referee who takes bribes, went crazy, and did the whole song and dance. A few hours later, I got my chance to play…
Stay calm, dude. You know the deal. Feet on the ground. Don’t get distracted by the chaos and float away.
Before I knew it, I was up $1500 with a chance to trade it in. Did I want the mystery item behind the curtain? YES!
Hmm, that’s a pretty badass motorcycle. I don’t actually know how to ride one…but, hey, this was a hell of a day. Ideally, it would’ve had a couple more wheels. Maybe I’ll get another shot one day.
But then, at the end of the show, I received a heaping dose of luck…
Do I want to trade my winnings for a chance at the Big Deal Of The Day? Absolutely!!!
Alright dude, you’ve got a commercial break to figure this out. There’s a car behind either door 1, 2, or 3. I gotta pick the right one.
Everyone surrounding me is yelling:
“Three! Three! Three!”
But then something catches my attention…
Sitting right behind me is a mysterious-looking gentleman who hasn’t spoken a word the entire day. While everyone around him is hopping around and cheering, he’s just sitting there silently. Peacefully. Long dreadlocks almost making him look like a medicine man. I turn around and ask:
“What door do you think?”
With a James Earl Jones level of bass in his voice, he utters a single word:
“One.”
Ok, door 1 it is.
The doors open…
My winnings?
2500 bucks, a trip to San Antonio, and FINALLY…
A brand-new motherfucking car.
A few years later:
Another shot at Let’s Make A Deal. Can’t remember if their rule was 3 or 5 years in between. But, by then, the dance was clear. Do the usual lunatic act and then calm down to play. Won a trip to Chicago. Didn’t get a shot at a car.
Which brings us back to the present day…
Another decade since the last Price Is Right attempt…
Here’s the thing, guys. And I’ll be perfectly honest about this. A lot of time has gone by. Things have changed. And, frankly, it’s more embarrassing than exciting now. But it’s still a chance at a car. And I’m not in any position to say no to that. Here’s the issue…
These things tend to be on a studio lot where they film tv shows. Some of which I have been in. Price Is Right, for example, is right down the hall from a soap opera that I’ve recurred on. Which means there are people a few feet away who I’ve had working relationships with. Friends and castmates. It’s potentially very awkward.
(Editor’s note: That is certainly not intended as a brag. Just the reality of the situation. By the way, this is why I almost never mention my job in over a decade of writing posts here. There are always a few people who will get weird if I do. Which makes me feel weird. Whatever. The point is, it’s an embarrassing thing for me to do at this point. Standing in line right down the hall from people I hope I don’t run into, etc)
But, hey, it’s still a no-brainer.
When push comes to shove, it’s a chance to win a car. There’s no way I can turn that down.
So I do my Zoom and give Price Is Right yet another shot. This has been unfinished business for over two decades now. The good news? They want me on Dream Car Week (which only comes around once per year). Suddenly a very different level of opportunity. No Kias and Hyundais at this show. Last year, they gave away an Alfa Romeo, a Corvette, a Maserati, and so on.
So I decided to go to work.
I don’t know how to properly express the level of this weirdness. With a week before the show, I decided to dedicate literally every free minute to memorizing prices. I went full-on Rain Man. Binging episodes from last season, making a detailed spreadsheet, and memorizing every single item. Yes, all of them. It started with cars and just kept going.
-Egg whites? $7.49
-Heated car throw blanket? $39
-Container of parmesan? $5.49
I. Knew. Every. Single. Item.
I had it all memorized. Over 700 rows in Excel. It kind of just happened. Now all I needed was a shot at a car and I’d win one. No doubt about it. Luck would still be a big factor. But I’d reduced that down as much as I could. It was all about getting a chance to win the right prize…one with four wheels.
I asked my buddy Raja if he wanted to join. They like contestants to bring at least one friend. He jumped at the opportunity. I remember having that kind of excitement to go to game shows. But now it was all about taking care of business.
Game time…
The alarm goes off at 5:30, I’m in an Uber a few minutes later, and standing in line at the now-familiar studio lot within an hour. The waiting begins. Raja shows up and greets me with an excited hug. I immediately pull a printout from my back pocket and ask if he can quiz me.
-BMW 840i? $94,756.
-Maserati Levante? $84,395.
-And so on.
Raja is shocked. Wait bro, did you memorize every single car price?
Yeah, man.
And all the other items too.
After a week of this, I feel like a giant calculator. Overflowing with numbers. I don’t even need to act crazy this time. I might have actually lost my mind for real. And then other people in line start realizing what’s happening. They begin quizzing me too. In between all of their standing-in-line festivities. I get it. Game shows are for people who are just excited to be there and have fun. I really do get it. But I am not here for fun. I’m here for one reason – to win a car. And, frankly, I could use a big win right now. So while everyone else is playing around for the next 3 hours as we wait to go in…I’m working. Just as I have been, non-stop, for the last week.
We finally get to our quick little interview and I go nuts because I know that’s what they want to see. But it’s all an act. The second it’s over, I get very calm and keep focusing on my numbers.
The show begins. I’m not one of the first 4 people called down. To review, my “line buddies” were:
(A) An extremely fun, young black couple who were posting playful Instagram videos for hours from the line.
(B) A white older mother in a motorized scooter. Accompanied by her 20 year-old daughter. Both are very friendly.
(C) A middle-aged Asian lady with an older white man who looks like a friendly Donald Sutherland. Very supportive couple who are exceptionally kind to each other.
(D) A 35-ish high-energy blonde chick who I’m quite certain has killed someone at some point in her life.
The lady from A, the young daughter from B, and the old man from C all get up to bid. Each of them deep in the floating state that comes from all the lights, sounds, and excitement. The young daughter (Shelby) is particularly rattled. She means to bid $2001 and says 201 instead.
Friendly Donald Sutherland plays his game and loses.
They call another person down. Also not me. Everyone is floaty and bidding terribly. The next person loses his game too. Man, I’ll need to get called down soon to have a few shots at bidding…
And then I get called down.
Acting crazy like I know they want…a chest bump, a quick robot dance, and so on. But immediately calming down to go to work. The item up for bid? A robo vac.
Shit.
There are 9 or 10 tricky items that vary in price even for the identical brand. This is one of them. Last season, they used 4 different robo vac brands and this was the one with two prices for the exact same thing. It’s a 50/50 chance. I guess one price but it’s the other. The guy goes up and loses a Camaro.
I knew every grocery price in that game and would have won it. Fuck. That might have been my shot.
The next item for bid is a knife and cookware set. This combination was not given away last season. I throw out an educated guess and win. YES! Now I just need to be playing for a car. Come on, baby.
But…no. It’s a tool set, some Michael Kors accessories, a TV, and a ping pong table. I deflate immediately. Sure, this stuff is fine. But I’m just not here for this. Oh well, there’s still a chance at the showcase. The tool set wasn’t used last season either so I mumble out a guess and end up losing. But these prizes didn’t matter. I’ve got one chance left at the car. All my energy now moves to hoping for some luck at the wheel. If I can just get to the showcase…
In the meantime, Shelby is really struggling. In my game, her bid was $150. There hasn’t been a bidding item priced under $200 since the Nixon administration. She’s totally floating. I’m bumming hard about not getting a shot at the car but Raja is having so much fun that he gestures to Shelby between dance moves. As in, “She needs help, bro.” I walk up to her at the next commercial break and say, “Hey just look at me. I know all of these.”
Shelby looks over for the next bidding item (a trip to Carmel) and repeats the number I shout out. She wins the trip, gets on stage, and the curtain opens to reveal…a shiny black Mercedes. Oh man, I know this one too. The Camaro and Mercedes could have been mine and…instead…a knife set. But Shelby clearly needs a hand. She tries to find me but is floating hard. I put up a 4 but she can’t see around the camera. She loses the Benz.
Next up is the possibly homicidal blonde – Amber. She saw what happened last round with Shelby and asks for help too. By this time, almost everyone has realized there’s a weird rain man supernerd in the room. I give Amber the bid and she wins. Her reward? A chance to play Plinko. She looks right at me for each item and follows my hand signals perfectly. She wins each chip and ends up with $22,500.
At the commercial break, she sprints over. Yelling, “THANK YOU SO MUCH” directly into my ear from half an inch away. She’s the only winner from any of the 6 games.
My final chance arrives. But I’ll need some luck with this wheel. No memorizing can save the day now.
Dammit, I should have had a Camaro or Mercedes but played for a fucking ping pong table!
Stop. Now isn’t the time for that, dude. Stay positive. There’s one last opportunity for the day…
I spin 60 cents. Being first in line, I know I’ll need to spin again for a higher number…
And I go over.
I’m full-on crushed.
Shelby moves on to the showcase against friendly Donald Sutherland.
At least a dozen people come over to hand out handshakes and hugs. By now, everyone knows what’s happening with the rain man shit. But it’s all for naught. Somehow, I still managed to come out of this carless. Raja dances over and says we have one job left…we have to help Shelby.
Friendly Donald Sutherland passes on his showcase. Oh, wait. I think I’m really close on this one. Shelby follows my hand signals and places the bid perfectly. I don’t make eye contact with Sutherland on his turn. I don’t know his showcase as accurately and, anyway, the job is to help Shelby.
Drew Carey reads off the prices…
Holy shit, Shelby is within 98 dollars.
She wins BOTH showcases. Her handicapped mom joins her onstage and is overwhelmed by tears. They both look over and put their hands on their hearts. I’m exhausted, happy for them, and super bummed for myself all at once. A bunch of emotions.
In the room with the paperwork, 20 year-old Shelby runs over and gives me a massive hug that feels like a visit to the chiropractor. She still seems to be floating. This brand-new Audi will be her first car. Sutherland taps me on the shoulder and jokes that he could have used some help too. I laugh politely but feel pretty gutted.
Shelby and her mom ask if Raja and I want to have a celebration drink with them. Sure, why not. Everyone is on cloud nine (except for me). We walk over to the farmer’s market and order a round of drinks and food. They insist on buying our lunch and are incredibly grateful. They politely try to feel bad for me but, come on, it’s impossible for them to feel anything but excitement. As they should. They just had a $70,000 day.
It turns out they really needed a win too. Shelby’s mom broke her back 5 years ago after falling off the roof while patching a leak. Thus the scooter. She’s been on disability for $1000/month ever since. Shelby’s dad just died in December. And the mom has been trying to bounce back after heart surgery a couple months ago. These are nice people. They’ve had a rough go of it and deserve a day like this. We trade numbers and hugs as they say thanks for the 50th time.
In the end, there’s no deep lesson from my long, strange history with game shows. But I guess I did learn something along the way…
Losing sucks. But it’s better than knowing you never took your shots. And maybe that’s all we can do. Keep taking shots and hope that a few of them go down. Keep shooting in spite of all the misses. It seems like, so often, we can barely slide a piece of paper through the tiny gap between winning and losing. Even with things as random and silly as game shows. So much, big and small, seems to come down to a single moment. And a lot of those moments don’t go our way. It’s not very profound, but I guess that’s what I learned from all this wackiness. Keep shooting. Who knows what might be lurking behind the next curtain…
