Recently, I was an audience member on the Ric Rollins Show. He's kind of a local, cut-rate Montel Williams wanna-be. The show was a talent search for Star Search. Most of it was a waste, as what passed for “talent” often got stage fright and choked, requiring a ten-minute pep talk and a thorough forehead-dabbing for our profusely sweating host. (I found it extremely comical that people who get stage fright in front of a local host—an audience of twenty and a television audience of another twenty—would figure they could perform in front of Ed McMahon, a studio audience of about a thousand and a television audience of another million or so.)
The one highlight occurred after we ducked out during a break to raid the crew's snack room. Upon returning to the “set” we found our seats had been filled (so it didn't look like people were bored and had left– which, of course, was exactly what had happened). This left my friend and me out in the hall with, much to my dismay, the spokes models. Suffice to say, when an opening in the crowd appeared, I deferred to my friend, assuring her that I was perfectly happy out in the hall.
Eventually, she caught on and stopped trying to get me to come in. The girls and I had a nice chat about advertising, art directing, and casting couches.