Last Friday, the Atlantic City Hilton hosted tryouts for the next season of Survivor. Participants were just asked to answer this question: “Why do you want to be on the next Survivor?”. Our friend, Alison Heller, was there and here’s her story that involves Ugg boots, a ninja and a creepy tree guy:
Auditions were open from noon to 4. I arrived around 2:30 p.m. and found the meeting room. Most of the room hosted hopeful reality show stars in a line that wrapped four times. In the far corner stood three camera stations equipped with a CW backdrop and obnoxious lighting. The near corner smartly offered a full bar so the crazies could self medicate and the anxious could soothe their nerves.
The line moved steadily while most people nervously chatted with their competition-to-be. I sipped an overpriced beer and watched the auditions in the corner. One man talked into the camera while holding a small dog. A woman flung her arms animatedly in the heat of some dramatic story. The audition attracted a fair number of characters. One man had a hook for a hand, talked to no one and looked both menacing and unlikely enough to win the whole competition. There were girls in UGG boots and bikini tops. The guy in front of me insisted he was a ninja. Then, Tree Guy showed up.
Tree Guy had apparently stopped on the parkway to grab a pine tree branch which he shoved down the back of his shirt. It towered over his head and enveloped his shoulders in a way that made me itchy just to look at him. He carried a boom box that looked like the piece of medical equipment Will Smith was trying to sell in The Pursuit of Happyness and danced to Katy Perry and Lady Gaga.
As we were called out of line, we approached a table where everyone signed a waiver/release and received a number. I was then directed to the middle camera station for my audition. The three stations were basically the same, but the producers asked different prompting questions.
So why would I be a good contestant on Survivor? I have never seen the show. I’m a complete indoor cat who once held it for over 48 painful hours rather than peeing in the woods on a camping trip. I’m a poet and a blogger with nothing to lose. If I’m chosen, I’ll either freak out in the first two weeks or I’ll fumble my way to the top and win it all. I’m up for the challenge (the million dollar prize wouldn’t hurt either).
Alison is a freelance writer and blogger from Cape May. Also a poet who loves art, fashion, being taken out for fancy desserts & cult films. You can follow her musings at www.superalzy.com