Television can be evil

When we got back to school on that Friday night we decided to go to a party and tell people what just happened. Naturally, no one believed us. Our other roommate knew that we went and her response was that “the show will never air.” We taped the show in April and waited impatiently for it to air. Finally, after calling the show on a weekly basis, we had a day in May that it would happen. I was a little bummed because I wanted it to air when I was in school just to see people’s reactions, but school was out for the summer.

The show aired and I watched it with some friends back home. My mom told me that she didn’t think that it was fake after she saw it. I assured her that it was. I had an ex-boyfriend call me and tell me that he had just seen me on t.v. and I was on every television set in Circuit City. People kept calling throughout the day and, to be honest, I was glad when things settled down a bit.

Fall arrived and we all headed back to school. While I was moving my things into my apartment, two guys who were moving in down the hall stopped me and said, “Were you on Jenny Jones?” I told them that I was and then had to explain to them that it was all a joke. I don’t know whether they believed me or not. Our friends who had seen the show stopped by to talk about it and congratulated us on a job well done. The first day of classes arrived sooner than we wanted and Sara and I headed to our English class. The professor walked in and began checking the roll. When he got to me he looked at me quizzically, paused and then went on to the next name…which happened to be Sara’s. He put the roster down and said, “You two were on the Jenny Jones Show a few months ago!” We told the story again.

The semester progressed as usual, but we were still being recognized almost everywhere that we went. While walking across the quad one afternoon, a girl stopped me and asked if I had ever been on the Jenny Jones show. When I told her yes, I started explaining to her the entire story. After I was finished, she looked at me and remarked, “You’re just telling me that now so that I won’t think that you’re a bitch. I think you are!” and with that, she walked away. Sara and I were eating lunch one day off-campus and these three female basketball players kept looking at us and whispering. One of them asked, “Were you guys…” and before she could finish I blurted out, “on Jenny Jones? Yes.” As much as I thought that I would enjoy this attention, it really was becoming aggravating. I was so sick of the story that whenever I’d retell it, I’d leave out a little more each time.

The following summer Sara and I went to Las Vegas to visit her mother. While we were in the bathroom of one of the casinos, a lady walked out of her stall and said, “You two were on that talk show!” then proceeded to tell us our story. How do people remember that?! I wouldn’t recognize someone from a talk show at any time, much less a year after the fact. One of the funniest things that was said was when I was at a party at Ari’s aunt’s house. Everyone had gathered on the deck and she was talking to some friends of hers. She called Ari and me over and said, “Ask them about being on Jenny Craig!” Her guests looked mortified. I’m guessing they thought it was rude to discuss our dramatic weight loss publicly. Ari corrected her and we told the story again.

Overall, the experience was wonderful. We got a free trip out of the deal and were small-time celebs for a moment. Would I do it again? I doubt it. Actually a producer from the show called me several months after it had aired and asked if I’d be willing to come back on the show. I told her that things had worked themselves out: Ari and I had split up (over the money from the show, sadly) and Sara and I were sharing a room in an apartment. There were no fights at all and we were living happily ever after. “Well, could you come on and say that you and Sara have something going on with one another now?” Are you kidding me?! I politely declined, hung up the phone, and turned on the t.v. to where it all began.

I’d never been to Fayetteville. I’d never been to a masonry competition. I’d never chaperoned an overnight field trip. So yeah, count me in!

The next week all of us were off. Six boys,four girls, and the masonry teacher packed into a white van heading down 95 south. The kids were talking and laughing and I was getting to know Mr. Williams a little better. We worked at the same place, but I’d only said hi to him in the hallways. He was telling me that when we got to the hotel, I’d have my own room and I didn’t have to go to any of the competitions, but just hang around at night and take the kids to the mall if they wanted to go. Sounded more than reasonable to me. Then we got to the hotel.

Mr. Williams asked me to stay with the kids as he checked us all in, so I did. When he made his way back through the masses of teenagers that had swarmed the hotel, he told everyone to head on down the hall to their rooms. As we walked, I asked him if I could have my room key.

“Oh yeah, there’s been a mistake. Your room was given away so you’ll have to share a room with me.” Oh sweet mercy, this is not happening! I would have to share a room with a 50 year old married man. “Um, okay,” I said hesitatingly. I walked into the room and exhaled as I saw two double beds. Well, at least I wouldn’t have to share a bed with the old coot. After a while, his buddy (another teacher) came into our room with a brown bag. He proceeded to give Mr. Williams a drink of Hennessy and had one himself. I declined. The kids came by the room and asked if I’d take them to the mall. I was out the door in an instant!

When we were on our way back to the hotel after a couple of hours hanging out at the mall one of the kids said, “Yeah, Mr. Williams was real happy that you said you’d come with us. He said that he thought you’d like to party.” “Yeah, I’m chaperoning a field trip with teenagers, partying is the last thing I need to be doing,” I replied. Another girl chimed in, “Well, you know why he wanted us to ask you to go, right? He thinks he’s gonna get some from you later on. His friend that was supposed to room with him took your room to make it easier.” Glad I had such a stellar reputation. I knew that I had to get out of that room. Quickly.

I went to the front desk when we got back and asked if they had any rooms available. Nope. So I flew to the nearest pay phone in the lobby and frantically started looking for hotels in the yellow pages. I called every single one of them. No rooms at any inn. With the competition being one for the state, all of the hotels were booked. I slunk back to my room and prepared for the night.

Mr. Williams was a little looped when I got to the room and his friend was hanging around, but left soon after I came back. I said I was going to bed and went into the bathroom to change. Luckily, I was in my flannel phase and not in the hot sexy lingerie one, so that made things a bit easier. I crawled into my bed and he was already in his. I tucked the sheets and blanket tightly around me, like that was going to keep him away if he wanted some. Ten minutes or so passed and then I heard from the darkness, “Ooooo, my back is killin’ me! I sure could use a back rub.” Sweet merifcul banana biscuits, I needed a plan and fast! So I did what any self-respecting gal would’ve done: I made snoring sounds and ignored him. “You awake over there?” he asked. More snoring and a grunt.

The next day I went took the kids to the competition and stayed as far away from Williams as I could. That night it was the same deal. I was snug (sleeping with one eye open) in the bed and he was across the way asking for a rub down. More snoring. At 1:20 a.m. the phone rang. I answered and it was a lady from another hotel. Two of our girls had crept out and were partying with some guys from another school. Salvation!!!!! I went and picked them up, lectured them about the dangers of doing something like that, and insisted to Mr. Williams that I needed to sleep in the girls’ room in case they tried to do it again.  “But they don’t have an open bed,” he replied. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” I muttered. So I did. No blanket, no pillow, just me and some carpet.

The next morning, I went back into the den of sin and gathered my things. Williams had left a present for me: a license plate that said “BRICK. It’s harder than you think.” I put it in my bag and was happy that bricks were the only things that got laid on that trip.