American Dreams

By Lisolette Gilcrest

20 May 2007

I rolled around in bed with my eyes closed fumbling for my ringing cell phone wondering who would be calling me at such an early hour in the morning. Flipping it open, I answered the phone with a raspy voice and my eyes still closed, trying to comprehend the abnormally shrill pitched words as they flooded together: "auditions," "game show," "today only," "conference center" floated in and out of the first few sentences and once he was done speaking he paused in anticipation of my response.

Despite all of the problems we had been going through, my ex-husband was so excited and eager for at least one of us to get the chance to go on the show that he called me as soon as he could and begged me to go because he wouldn't be able to get out of work in time. Initially, I declined because I had had other plans that afternoon and didn't feel like standing in a line for an hour or two... but the excitement was contagious and within minutes I had changed my mind and was busily moving around my house, waking my son and getting him dressed hurriedly, grabbing my camera and packing some snack foods for what I expected to be a great opportunity to do some people watching, if nothing else.

As I secured my son in his car seat I also spoke hurriedly to my friend, whom I had called with the same excitement and invited her to meet me at the auditions with her kids so that we could all entertain each other while waiting for our remote chance at wealth and glory. She agreed and met me there within the hour.

I expected there to be a long line. I didn't expect the line to be wrapped around in a parking lot actually comprising over two miles of people intricately woven in such a small space. I also didn't expect that line to last over eleven hours for those who would weather the storm.

I expected there to be a lot of people. I didn't expect the nearly 20,000 people who showed up that morning for a chance to get onto the show. I also didn't expect that in the end only 7,200 people would actually last the day and get their chance at an audition.

I expected there to be news crews. I didn't expect the slew of news reporters from local and national stations, as well as multiple helicopters hovering above us to document the spectacle. I also didn't expect that those same news crews would essentially only take a few pictures, grab a few sound bytes and interview one or two zany people, then cut and run within minutes of arriving.

After the first hour, I realized that my estimate of only "an hour or two" in line was sorely wrong and I began to experience pangs of guilt that I had dragged my son out on a sunny day and was trying to convince him (and myself) that this wait was worth it and that afterwards we would do something really special together. I struggled mentally between the unfairness of asking a four year old to stand in line for anything for two hours and the miracles and opportunities that could be realized for that same four year old - with Autism and without health insurance - if I earned even a fraction of the grand prize. The odds were against me but the reward could change our lives. I decided to wait a little longer.

Another hour dragged by and it was more clear to my friend and I that the wait was probably going to be double or triple what we had expected and the decision was clear to us both... We needed to leave and spend our Saturday afternoon elsewhere. I asked my friend if she would mind wrangling my son for a few minutes while I walked up and down the lines before we left, snapping a few photographs of the would-be contestants and trying to do a final assessment of just how long the line was to confirm that we should indeed leave. As I walked along the line taking photographs, my cell phone rang again and it was my ex-husband once more, calling to tell me he was on his way to the conference center with food reinforcements and to take our son back to his house so that I could stay in line. I told him that we had already decided to leave, but his response made me stop and think.

"You better not walk away now! How many chances will you ever get to do this...?"

I told him I would call him back in a few minutes, hung up and looked around at everyone around me. At that point there were 15,000 people surrounding me from every walk of life you could possibly imagine and each with their own unique story to tell: why they were there, why they thought they were the perfect contestant and how they'd tell the producers that, what they hoped to do with the money, and how their lives would change.

"How many chances would I ever get to do this...?" To talk to others, to listen and hearken to their words? To photograph them and document their journey and their hopes? To cherish the human experience and the freedom that we have in our country? Never enough.

As I arrived back to my friend and our children, I told her that my ex-husband was going to come pick up my son and he had offered to take her children, too, so that she could stay in line. Her pause in thought mimicked my own and she nodded and smiled, her thoughts roaming over the bright possibilities of the day and she agreed to stay.

I spent the rest of the day walking up and down the shrinking two mile stretch, taking hundreds of photographs of ordinary people in an extraordinary situation. From the couple who had driven from three states away to the military wife who wanted to win some extra money so she could support their children while her husband was deployed to the Middle East to the African immigrants who wanted to win money so that they could bring their relatives home to them to the elderly man who wanted to win the money so that he could finally donate to all of the charities he had ever wanted to support to the woman who wanted to go on the show not necessarily to win money but to get exposure and find a husband, the stories were endearing.

After four hours in line, they shut the gates and didn't allow anyone else to enter the complex. Everyone who was already in line was guaranteed a twenty second spot to tell the producers why they should be chosen. Hundreds of friends and supporters of those left in line drove to the complex and handed food, drinks, cigarettes, sunscreen, blankets, and other basic supplies through the fence and wished them luck. If anyone stepped outside of the gates of the conference center they would immediately lose their opportunity and there was a certain sense of caution in even approaching the gates.

It struck me then how ironic the whole scene was. This scene has been repeated throughout the world and throughout history, but almost always under dire circumstances. Documented images of impoverished villagers with limited resources lining up to get the most basic of supplies and war-torn towns that were evacuating flashed through my mind and I suddenly waxed grateful for all that I had.

For most of us who spent those eleven hours in line, our stories were not nearly as unfortunate and we were there not out of desperation and survival but out of hope of improving our quality of life. While some may have expected such motivations to have produced greedy people and ruthless tactics, I was actually overwhelmed by the spirit of community and support that was apparent as we had all moved together towards the conference center. Some hopefuls held places in line for others who needed to find restrooms or simply sit for a while, other hopefuls shared food and drink that they had with those who had none and yet other hopefuls helped to entertain our children while we moved along in the line for those first few hours.

We were all just so excited at the chance that our dreams might come true that the ambience was intoxicating. I doubt that most that were there had the same epiphany as I did about the historical similarities of our scene but everyone I spoke with felt the experience was a great one and would do it again even if they weren't chosen. How many chances would any of us ever get to do this...? To get the chance at winning a million dollars just for being ourselves? To connect with perfect strangers for an entire day and share our hopes and dreams? To appreciate the fact that we have the freedom and opportunities that we have in this country? Never enough.