Rachel Lipko / Staff writer

While I’ve never had any burning desire to put my personal life on blast via a “reality” TV show, I—like I’m sure a few of you—have always wondered what happens in these open casting calls. What kinds of questions were asked to some of these people that deemed them “view worthy?”

When my friend Jayson begged me to go with him Feb. 2 to the Real World MTV auditions I wasn’t excited. But, I was intrigued. I decided if I was going to waste my Saturday morning on this I was going to go all out and give these people what I thought they wanted, someone that stood out.

I put my hair in pin curls, the basis for almost every 1940s do, wore my favorite 40s dress, and slid on my Cuban heeled stockings—you know, the stockings with the black line up the back of them. This way after the audition was over Jayson, who doubles as my dance partner, and I could just go swing dancing.

The requirements were simple: be under the age of 24, and bring a photo. Auditions were from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at the Oakland based bar Boomerangs and Jayson, adamant about getting there early to avoid waiting, had us in the line of 25 people by 10:15. While there we were given a packet to fill out. There were typical questions like name, age, address and phone numbers in the first portion, and the second was short answer.

Are you in a relationship and if so how serious is it? What is the relationship you have with your parents? What makes you unique? What kinds of charities or causes do you promote?

“What is your career goal and can you achieve it on the Real World,” I read out loud. “To promote swing love… yes… yes I can!”

“Take this serious.” Jayson said.

“I can’t,” I said. “Why would anyone want to go on here and make themselves just look so stupid. And come on Jayson what is your career goal? Can these kids actually fill their career goals out in only one sentence? Mine would take this page.”

Eh. Maybe I was being a bit critical of the show. I am guilty of actually tuning in to an episode here and there and laughing at the actions people do when they “forget” cameras are rolling. I filled out my last question about my most embarrassing moment, and got ushered into the building with the rest of my group of ten.

There we were asked for IDs and lined up once more while past seasons of the show played on the televisions above. After about 20 minutes our group was called and asked to sit in a circle of bar chairs with the casting director, Piper, on the outskirts.

“Alright let me collect your packets and your pictures,” Piper said as she walked around the circle. There weren’t a lot of people beating down the doors to get in here so I assumed that we would all just sit around and talk so she could get a sense of what makes us tick.

“Ok now let’s go around the circle and each of you say your name, age, hometown and something interesting about you,” she said, making her way back to the front.

The first two girls had flown in from New York City and found their most interesting facts to be that they are going to grad school.

It was my turn. Of course, I said I was a swing and ballroom dance instructor that also was a drummer for hardcore bands. Jayson said he was a Jewish hip hop dancer, and the girl next to him all the way from Kentucky swore there wasn’t anything special about her at all.

The next three were best friends from Pitt Main who found last
weekend’s random trip to Canada to be pretty interesting. While the next girl had driven all the way from Buffalo, receiving three tickets while on her way. The policeman wanted to take her to jail but she somehow cried her way out of it.

“Where the tickets three separate ones?” Piper asked.

“No, I got all three at the same time. I was driving with a suspended license, no car insurance, and my car was over due on inspection by almost a year,” the girl said. “Now I have to find a way back home!”

Talk about dedication. I think I would have just gone home. The last two were a gay couple who swore they had gay cats. This probably took a total of three minutes to do. Then Piper asked us who we were voting for. No one answered.

“Is it safe to say that no one cares?” She asked.

Everyone nodded.

“Well there goes the chance of a debate,” she said.

“Then you’re all free to go.”

That was it. We sat there for a good seven minutes then were asked to leave.

We walked outside to the now three-person-line.

I was a little taken aback about how twenty second increments could be given to ten very different people to tell what makes them special. It made me feel that the people that were here taking this seriously were selling themselves a little short. We got into the car when Jayson finally broke his silence.

“I’ve never felt that I had to prove how interesting I was until now, like to go above and beyond to top the next person,” he said. “Can I seriously apologize for making you go to this sell out session?”

I smiled an “I told you so” smile but didn’t gloat; being on the same page was all that I really needed from him.