I like to think of the LLDD-Hyphen-L and myself as the Embassy's resident broadcast power-couple. For her part, the LLDD-Hyphen-L is a regular weekly late-night guest on a London-based online radio station, easily and adeptly discussing Embassy programs and events, chatting with kababayans, and updating listeners on the status of the Warriors.
"For all you boppers out there in the big city"
Meanwhile, other than continuing to field calls from the BBC pronunciation department, my engagement with mass media has been limited to sending out applications to join studio audiences of popular British TV shows, be them highbrow or cheesy. But as each season of Q.I. and X-factor has come and gone without me receiving a call, I had all but given up hope of ever checking out up close whether British celebrities looked naturally as good in person or were in fact "enhanced".
My Irish quota in that regard had long been filled
Lo and behold, I suddenly got an e-mail last week from a production company that said I made it on to the guest list for the live season finale broadcast of "Ang Huling Hita", a viciously funny British late-night program popular for its Aussie host's skilled takedowns of silly media and celebrities, bigotry and prejudices, and stupidity in general. Jolly good show!
The episode would be staged late that Friday night and at the same time as the LLDD-Hyphen-L's own radio program, which meant I'd have to attend "Hita" solo while she did her thing. The e-ticket sent to me said the "Hita" broadcast would start at 10 p.m., and that the studio doors would open about 30 minutes before that. Excited much, I arrived an hour before that, but to my shock and horror there was already a long queue outside when I got there -- like pila sa labas ng Eat Bulaga long. No prob, I thought calmly. I got a ticket, I'm good to get in. But then I read the ticket's fine print again: "Entry is subject to studio capacity. Tickets are always over-issued to compensate for possible no-shows. We suggest you come early to avoid disappointment. Seating is strictly on a first-come-first-served basis. This ticket is not a guarantee of entry."
Crap.
Still, I arrived early enough in line to receive a numbered wristband, and the line that ended up forming behind me after I got there looked longer than the line that was already in front of me. And then they started letting people in, the queue moved up, and I got close enough to see the studio doors. I was liking my chances.
"Ladies and gentlemen" barked a hipster PA. "I'm sorry but tonight's season-ending show might not be able to take in all of you. All those with wristband numbers 135 and up, you can go home already..."
(looked at my wristband -- number 117. Yes!)
"...which is not to say everyone below 134 are sure to get in, it just means 135 and up are the ones sure to be out."
(bloody wordy hipster PA)
So most of the long line behind me melted away, even as most of the people ahead of me were being let in. I found myself rapidly approaching the studio entrance, and suddenly was just fourth from the front of the line!
"Ladies and gentlemen" barked the PA. "We have no more seats available..."
(£&%*!)
"....we have a seat remaining"
(£&%*-ing bloody wordy hipster PA and his literal singular and plurals!)
But wait! The girl immediately ahead of me who I thought also queued up alone ditches her place in line to join some other friends who couldn't get in the show and - actual quote - "want to get some vodka instead." Respect.
That left just two people ahead of me in line: a young married couple.
"Does anyone want a seat, that is, one single seat?" barked the redundant hipster PA.
I saw some fear and hesitation in the young married couple's eyes. They both obviously wanted to get in, but they didn't want to leave their new spouse behind either. Oh, how fun it would've been to gatong and have said something like "one of you should definitely go inside, it'll be a shame if both of you miss the season ender, I'm sure the other one will be fine" just to see what transpired next. Instead, I did the honourable thing: I waved at the hipster PA and yelled "I'm one and next in line! These two ahead of me are together! You said you only have one seat left!"
Bloody wordy literal redundant hipster PA pulls me out of the line and lets me in the studio.
(I always liked him!)
The episode would be staged late that Friday night and at the same time as the LLDD-Hyphen-L's own radio program, which meant I'd have to attend "Hita" solo while she did her thing. The e-ticket sent to me said the "Hita" broadcast would start at 10 p.m., and that the studio doors would open about 30 minutes before that. Excited much, I arrived an hour before that, but to my shock and horror there was already a long queue outside when I got there -- like pila sa labas ng Eat Bulaga long. No prob, I thought calmly. I got a ticket, I'm good to get in. But then I read the ticket's fine print again: "Entry is subject to studio capacity. Tickets are always over-issued to compensate for possible no-shows. We suggest you come early to avoid disappointment. Seating is strictly on a first-come-first-served basis. This ticket is not a guarantee of entry."
Crap.
"It turns out that the early reports were wrong. All wrong."
"Ladies and gentlemen" barked a hipster PA. "I'm sorry but tonight's season-ending show might not be able to take in all of you. All those with wristband numbers 135 and up, you can go home already..."
(looked at my wristband -- number 117. Yes!)
"...which is not to say everyone below 134 are sure to get in, it just means 135 and up are the ones sure to be out."
(bloody wordy hipster PA)
So most of the long line behind me melted away, even as most of the people ahead of me were being let in. I found myself rapidly approaching the studio entrance, and suddenly was just fourth from the front of the line!
"Ladies and gentlemen" barked the PA. "We have no more seats available..."
(£&%*!)
"....we have a seat remaining"
(£&%*-ing bloody wordy hipster PA and his literal singular and plurals!)
But wait! The girl immediately ahead of me who I thought also queued up alone ditches her place in line to join some other friends who couldn't get in the show and - actual quote - "want to get some vodka instead." Respect.
That left just two people ahead of me in line: a young married couple.
"Does anyone want a seat, that is, one single seat?" barked the redundant hipster PA.
I saw some fear and hesitation in the young married couple's eyes. They both obviously wanted to get in, but they didn't want to leave their new spouse behind either. Oh, how fun it would've been to gatong and have said something like "one of you should definitely go inside, it'll be a shame if both of you miss the season ender, I'm sure the other one will be fine" just to see what transpired next. Instead, I did the honourable thing: I waved at the hipster PA and yelled "I'm one and next in line! These two ahead of me are together! You said you only have one seat left!"
Bloody wordy literal redundant hipster PA pulls me out of the line and lets me in the studio.
(I always liked him!)
"Now for that group out there that had such a hard time...sorry about that. I guess the only thing we can do is play you a song."
Ok, I'm in. Within the studio's halls, I'm passed around like a relay baton from PA to PA with each one yelling "This guy's alone, he gets the last empty chair!" Ha, I don't care. Who needs dignity or a nice seat when you're already inside guaranteed to see the show. I reach the edge of the set, and get pulled further and further inward by a PA. There's one last shout of "This guy's alone!", then I'm pointed to the single remaining seat in the studio. In fairness, the seat's pretty close to the front.
How close?
THIS FRICKIN' CLOSE!!!!!!
Oh hell yeah!! Apologies to young married couple, but how great was this seat!?!! Front row, right above the main host and directly across the other presenters and guests. And who happened to be the first guest? Princess Leia!!!!!
That I could get within 20 feet of her worship without violating my restraining order made my seat that much greater
I couldn't believe my good fortune...but was respectful of it. As Spider-man said, "With great seating comes great responsibility", so I took very seriously all my duties as audience-member-who-will-likely-get-on-camera-frequently-on-live-television-so-he-better-look-good-and-not-do-anything-stupid. These duties included:
- Smile broadly and clap vigorously after every bit
check
- Overlaugh head toss at particularly funny out-of-nowhere jokes...
check
- And, absolutely most important of all, sway with the crowd in time during the big finale...
dammit!
I'm so so sorry. I had one job, ONE JOB...and blew it. I don't know what it was. The music was blaring, the bright lights were glaring, I...I panicked. Things got out of hand quickly after that, and I may have just blacked out altogether.
I have no memory of this
Still, watching "Ang Huling Hita" live was one of the most fun and enjoyable experiences I've had here in the UK (the full episode shouldn't be too hard to find on YouTube). My jaw is still sore from smiling, my hands are still raw from clapping, and my dork cred is as strong as ever from the swaying fail. I still have applications out there to catch other live shows and, who knows, maybe next time it's the LLDD-Hyphen-L who'll be on camera and restore the good family name.
"Be lookin' good...Ya hear me, babies? Good. Re-e-al good. Adios."
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