THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, December 2, 1994 TAG: 9412010082
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E14 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY HOLLY WESTER, CAMPUS CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: Medium: 87 lines
WHEN I CALLED Ricki Lake's hotline that Thursday evening, I had no idea what I was in for. Less than two weeks later, I found out just what the talk show world was about.
It's not glamorous and it's not nice. It's business.
Being the daytime trash TV-oholic I am, I have always been curious about what goes into a talk show. I figured that being a guest would be the best way to find out. But since I wasn't a pregnant man-trapper or a woman in love with a gay man, I thought my chances of getting on ``Ricki Lake'' were pretty slim. After all, Ricki's talk show is No. 2 in the market.
Then I saw a blurb asking females to nominate single men for the coveted ``Catch of the Year'' award. I knew the perfect catch, my best buddy and ex-boyfriend, Bryan, but I felt pretty dorky about calling. But the next day I did.
Two long days passed without a reply. I had nearly forgotten about it until Abby, one of Ricki's producers, called for more info. She asked me to Federal Express her some photos of us and 10 reasons why Bryan is a ``catch.''
I put together a phat package of photos and a list, bragging about Bryan's honesty and intelligence. I covered it with hot pink heart stickers and sent it in. Two days later, Abby called and said she wanted to use us. Little did I know that we really would get used.
After a brief phone interview with the other producer, Michelle, one of the show's travel agents called with flight information and a schedule. Instead of flying us up the evening before, as we had been told before, we were now leaving and returning the same day. But having a driver pick us up and a ``nice lunch'' sounded like adequate compensation.
We landed in Newark, N.J., where a driver picked us up in a sleek black Lincoln and took us to the studio, on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue. Through tinted windows we saw toll booths, the Statue of Liberty and lots of cabs. That ride would be our only taste of the city.
Once we were in the building, Bryan told a white-haired man behind the desk why we were there. He called the seventh floor, and we waited by the elevators.
A young lady in a pair of tight olive-green pants escorted us to the ``Green Room,'' a stuffy hole about half the size of a classroom. Seated on a black leather couch were two suit-clad men, both guests on our show. Ramzy, a balding, married guy, introduced himself and his brother and nominee, Kamal.
Watching a fuzzy TV screen got pretty boring. Bryan asked a staffer if he could go to a bookstore, and she apprehensively said she'd check with someone. He never got an answer.
After an hour, a veggie tray, chips, canned sodas and what looked like a bowl of leftover Halloween candy were delivered. Minutes later, Kamal and Bryan were shifted to another room. The nominators and nominees would be separated until rehearsal. Nobody told us why.
Another hour passed, and more guests arrived, along with cheese pizzas. We met the producers and they gave us our opening lines. My blue card read: ``I'm Holly. My friend, Bryan, is definitely the `Catch of the Year.' I should know.
The only instructions we were given were to be enthusiastic, fun and ``very Kathie Lee.''
I went into makeup, where two women disco danced to some '70s tunes. One approached me, threw a cape around my neck and spent a good 15 minutes pancaking the stuff on my face.
We were corralled into the studio for rehearsal, and I couldn't believe how small it was. I began sweating immediately and didn't know if it was the lights or my nerves working. We skimmed through the show with Ricki for an hour and a half but were never introduced to her.
We headed back to our room while 200 audience members charged for their seats. They played silly games like ``Musical Chairs'' and practiced the infamous ``Go, Ricki; Go, Ricki'' chant to prep for the show.
The cameras began rolling and the next thing I knew, Bryan and I were on. During our segment, Ricki questioned me as though we had talked for hours before. She said she had heard that Bryan and I used to date. I wanted to tell her, ``Yeah, you sure can read your cue cards pretty well there, Rick.''
After an hour and a half of taping, we said goodbye to the other guests. While we attempted to exchange addresses and take pictures, we were practically pushed out the door. Guests for the next taping were arriving.
TV land showed more of its true colors when some lunatic from the show literally screamed at us outside. ``You're going to miss your flights if you don't leave NOW!,'' she hollered. I was over it and ready to go.
I never did meet Ricki, but I did ride to the airport with the winner. Next time, I think I'll call Oprah. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Holly Wester is a student at Virginia Wesleyan College.
by CNB