Wednesday, May 21, 2003 - 11:35 p.m.

American Idol 2

Part One:

3:30 p.m. Having arrived at the Universal Amphitheater way too early I relaxed in the car and listened to my CD from American Idol - Season 2 and counted my blessings that I was in possession of a golden ticket allowing me VIP entry to the final chapter of the American Idol 2 saga. Still vacillating between Ruben and Clay and unsure as to whom I want to win the magic carpet that took Miss Kelly Clarkson from a mere chunk-dyed hair obscurity to hair-extension platinum record super stardom.

4:05 p.m. The CD finally finishing with "…God bless the U.S.A." I come to the conclusion that Julia DeMato was robbed and Corey Clark, pending his felony assault convicting, was the luckiest of the 12-wannabe finalist.

4:08 p.m. Walking through Universal’s City Walk reminds me of a street scene from the film, "Blade Runner." I feel like the hoodlums lurking around each and every oversized neon sign could murder me given any incentive.

4:30 p.m. Opting to people watch I waited patiently outside Door 4 for my friends to arrive the amphitheater. First to arrive was Kandi my beautiful goddess-like friend holding a margarita in one hand and a foam finger proclaiming Clay to be "# 1" in the other. As she approaches she points with a cock of her head to a man over to her right and tells me, "See that guy over there? He was in the bar line in front of me. What a jerk!" I ask, "The guy in green? I went out with him." Horrified she asks, "Nooooo, is that ‘The Date’?" As I tell her, "Yep" she lets out one last, "Nooooo way."

4:30 p.m. Within moments we were joined by TC and our hostess for the evening, Ulani.

4:45 p.m. Once seated, down front in the VIP orchestra section, we found ourselves completely surrounded by diehard AI2 fans clad in the finest of out-dated ill-fitting well-worn Cheryl Tiegs-wear and carrying signage professing their undying love for "The Velvet Teddy Bear" or their everlasting "Aching for Aiken." The poster I carried was a bit more understated and straightforward reading, "Clay’s a Homo." Regardless of criticism I defend my decision to turn the O’s in homo into smiley faces giving Josh Gracen and Ryan Seacrest blow jobs.

4:50 p.m. Ushered in at the last moments and seated just several rows in front of us were some of last year’s AI top-ten rejects. They included the lovely and sexy Christina Christiansen wearing a fuchsia tube top and a four-inch wide fabric swatch that loosely hung from her slim hips in lieu of a skirt. She carried with her a small terrier, which I believe, when strategically placed, to be the latest fashion accessory for covering up one’s vagina. At her side was Tamyra Gray looking stunning in a white gown resembling an open parachute.

4:53 p.m. The murmur that seemed to be on everyone’s lips was "How’d you get your tickets?" However, I put an end to that when I told one lady donning a "Clay all the way" t-shirt, "I’m Clay’s boyfriend and yes, we’ve been ‘all the way’."

4:55 p.m. Poor Justin Guarini, escorted to his seat amongst the crowds sympathetic "Don’t worry Justin" "Justin it’s going to be okay" and "Oh well, you almost had a shot", was still reeling from the comparison of his last Wednesday’s amateurish rendition of Unchained Melody to that of Clay’s spectacular show-stopping version sung the evening prior. Some say his career died that night. I say what career?

5:00 p.m. Barely able to stand the excitement Ryan Seacrest at last introduces America to the show’s three judges. First out was Randy Jackson, easily as heavy as Ruben but carries much lower. Next introduced was Paula Abdul. With not a Paula in sight and through the magic of television a miniature claymation marionette was brought out in her stead. And although the doll was clearly a dark stained Wayland Flowers "Madam" puppet the audience never seemed to catch on. Finally all 38 bleached white teeth of the beloved and adored Simon Cowell entered the amphitheater to a thunderous razzing.

5:15 p.m. Bored.

5:18 p.m. Kandi, having stashed a flask in her giant foam finger, offered us shots of JD to deaden the pain of having to endure the hoots and hollers and wardrobe of our neighbors.

5:30 p.m. Afraid we’d go through the hooch way to fast and then be left with nothing but a headache I suggested that we only take shots when Clay shifts the microphone from one hand to the other.

5:40 p.m. One chorus of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" later the flask was empty.

5:55 p.m. To distract himself from the boredom during commercial breaks TC resorted to pointing out Clay’s homo-groupies in the audience and assigning them a number which correlated with how flaming they appeared with a "five-alarm" being the highest rating.

6:15 p.m. Nothing says "good times" like a medley sung by the cast of American Idol doing a flawless impersonation of Up With People.

6:52 p.m. Not a moment too soon Ruuuuuben was anointed American’s Idol number 2. The two blondes behind us actually cried. I found it touching that two grown men with home-dyed blonde hair were crying like schoolgirls. TC adjusted his rankings and deemed them "six-alarmers."

7:00 p.m. On to the VIP after-party.

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