Uma, Oprah, Oprah, Uma
Major gratitudes to my bro, Jammer Jive for an awesome birthday present. VIP seats for a taping of the David Letterman Show at the Ed Sullivan Theater in New York are definitely a significant gift, and one that will be moderately difficult to reciprocate in the near future. VIP access means getting the best seats in the house without standing in line all day.
Those that did stand in line all day, sweating in the July humidity, had to keep up their energy and cheery personality to be selected by one of the CBS pages as a "dot." The "dots" were brought into the cool, air-conditioned lobby with us VIPs where they were informed that they would be seated in the front rows of the theater for the taping. Their gleaming smiles and effervecent charm would be required "front and center" to give Dave maximum energy -- even though their view of the production would be entirely obstructed by cameras, monitors, cue cards, stagehands, gaffers, grips and Eddie Brill.
After a speech from a former-cheerleader-turned-pharmaceutical-sales-rep-turned-CBS-page standing on a folding chair in the lobby about how we're not allowed to "whoop," "awww" or cheer when we hear our hometown mentioned, we were informed that there would be no access to restrooms for the duration of the taping. Such information caused immediate spasms of my ordinarily capacious bladder. Thankfully, we were granted access to one small, single-head bathroom in the already claustrophobic and mostly dingy lobby of the theater.
After relieving our bladders, we waited for a few more minutes before being ushered to our seats. The "dots' were taken to their seats close to the stage. The "non-dots" were shown their seats in the rear of the auditorium, out of sight of cameras and Dave.
Meanwhile, us VIPs were taken to our seats in the front of the balcony with a beautiful (mostly) unobstructed view of the entire set. The balcony is small, just a few rows deep, and probably seats barely 100 people. The lower level of the theater isn't that big either, and probably holds about 400 bodies in all.
The front edge of the balcony hangs low over the stage. During Dave's monologue, you felt as though you could reach over and check his hairpiece. Naturally, the whole set looks way smaller than it does on my TV -- and I own a 19-inch television. The legendary temperature of the theater is truly chilly. Looking at the empty stage prior to the show, one can't help but envisage the ghosts of John, George, Ringo and Paul (before his second marriage) taking the stage to a chours of 500 hundred screaming teenage girls. But there wasn't much time to admire the surroundings.
The warm-up act, Eddie Brill took the stage to get the crowd in a good mood. He was a funny guy, but you could tell he was giving his schtick for the 2,043rd time of his life and the second time that day. (We attended the evening taping.) They showed a short video on the monitors of some of Dave's best material: Dave as the drive-through attendant at a Taco Bell.
Eddie then introduced the band members one-by-one, culminating with the entrance of Paul Schaefer. The CBS Orchestra kicked up the energy with their take on Green Day's "Basket Case." The band sounded really tight, although it's clear a few of the guys are well beyond their prime. Do these guys get tenure or something?
Eddie then explained that David Letterman would come out for two minutes to say hello prior to the top of the show. And just then, Dave came sprinting onto stage without his jacket, ran across the set and grabbed the microphone. He swung it around by the cord several times, causing me to wonder when the last time was I'd seen a hard-wired mike. Holding the microphone like a harmonica up to his moth, Dave shouted a few untillegible comments about the weather and then asked for a single question from the audience. A nice woman from decided to use that precious moment to stand up and kiss Dave's ass and tell him what a genius he is. Dave nodded kindly and seemed gracious.
An assistant on set then motioned to Dave that he had 10 seconds until tape. And with a final joke, a quick wave and toss of the mike, he vanished into the background like clockwork. As the top of the hour hit, Paul gave the downbeat and the familiar strains of the theme song began.
Dave sprinted through the background, then walked onto stage for his monologue. The opening jokes were full of the usual late-night jabs at former presidents and B-level celebrities. On this Monday evening, we were actually seeing the taping for the Friday show. I had asked Jammer prior to the show how one could write timely jokes for a show that doesn't air for four days. His response was, "You can tell an adulterous Bill Clinton joke any day of the week." And of course, halfway through the monologue, when Dave cracked his first Bill Clinton womanizing joke, we both laughed that much harder.
The guests that night were Julia Stiles, some dishwasher guy who wrote a book about dishwashing and comedian Nick Griffin. The hour-long taping felt like it was over in mere minutes. Each segment felt brief and fast-paced -- and way funnier than it ever is when watching from home on the couch. During the "commercial breaks" a team of writers, assistants and make-up people surround the desk, only to scatter during the 5-second count down to "air." I don't really understand why a show that's being taped needs to run with such military serviture to the clock, especially when there was a re-take in the show. You see, after the second "commercial break," Dave and Paul messed up their little banter. Dave abruptly stopped the bit and asked to start over. In a flash, Paul gave a downbeat, the band played the intro again, and the whole segment started over like nothing ever happened.
At the end of the show, we were taken downstairs and sent out the side door onto 53rd Street. Jammer and I headed over to a Starbucks to relieve our now full bladders. Standing in line for the restroom we bumped into Nick Griffin, who we had just seen finish his very funny set during the taping. (He wsa buying coffee, not waiting for the bathroom. Something tells me they don't subject the guests to the same toilet provisos that they do the audience members.) It was definitely of a cool treat to meet one of the guests from the show.
The other great highlight of the day was getting to see Michael Lauziere, Master of the Unusual, do his thing on in-line skates. For readers of this blog, you might remember how I sang his praises a year ago. Michael was a featued guest during the first taping of the day. As he skated down the street, sticks on his skates hit tuned bottles in a sequence to play a complete song. So as Jammer and I walked by to get in line, we got to watch him do his thing. This time, Michael skated down 53rd Street playing a selection from "Carmen." Just what Bizet had in mind. Apparently, the top of my head could be seen bobbing up and down behind Michael during this segment. Probably not my greatest moment, being a boob on the street.
The other major highlight of the day was getting to stroll the MoMA, which I hadn't been to since it's re-opening. My main interest was in seeing the 50-year retrospective of the Helvetica typeface. The small exhibit included one of the original metal font sets and examples of Helvetica's ubiquitous usage. It gave me the opportunity to explain to Jammer the exact difference between a typeface and a font. Talk about a good time.
Yes, it was a great day. Thanks again, Jammer.
