It’s a little past 8:30 p.m. The small cup is empty, my fingertips are smeared with grease and the soles of my feet are killing me. I’ve been at this bar for the past three and a half hours. Alone. So how did I get here? Well, let’s start from the beginning.

It’s March 22, 2017. Today is the day. Open casting calls for Big Brother potential cast mates. I’ve never participated in one of these, but it’s at one of my favorite bars in Dallas, so why not? I’m a huge Big Brother fan, and I’ve submitted videos the past three years, but I’m still here, typing this, so clearly I didn’t make it. So today’s the day. I’m going to go to the open call where approximately 1,000 people will show up in hopes to make it to my favorite show.

The open call begins at five, but with traffic and the expected crowd, I plan on leaving around 3 p.m. I have no idea what to expect, but I don’t want to be the late straggler that the casting team doesn’t remember, so I know I need to dress up and leave early.

Around 3:30 I’m finally ready. I grab my purse, double check for my necessities and head down to my car. My nerves are kicking in. I’m usually great when it comes to talking to people, but for some reason, this has me extremely anxious. And what does one NOT need when they’re anxious and nervous? Caffeine. But what do I buy at the gas station right next to my apartments? Mountain Dew Code Red.

As I’m getting back into my car, my nerves have somewhat chilled out. The gas station clerk complimented me on my eyes, so I’m feeling a little better. All that goes right down the can as I step into my car.

Pause. Besides Big Brother, I’m a huge Real Housewives franchise fan. I love watching the reality of the dramatic-filled lives of women who chug Pinot by the glass, flip dinner tables and argue over the square footage of houses. It’s enthralling. This particular season of the Beverly Hills franchise includes a cast member who is Connecticut born and bred but for some strange reason talks with an undeniable fake accent. Her name is Dorit. Oh yeah, and her husband is a housewife, too. Anyway, Dorit is notorious for being extra and over the top with her accent and lifestyle. So the cameras couldn’t have been filming her at more perfect time during this episode.

As Dorit is stepping out of her car with her househusband, she misses a step and fumbles out of the vehicle. She stumbles in her heels, then jerks her head up fast enough to cause whiplash, hoping us viewers didn’t catch this epic scene. Which can be seen here.

___________

Anyway, the whole point of Dorit falling is that that’s exactly what happened to me. As I was getting back into my car, my left heel wobbled under my extremely inflated head from the gas station clerk and I pulled a Dorit. That humbled me up real quick.

So here we are – strike 1 for the day of Big Brother try outs.

As soon as I get in my car I look for a change of shoes. Being the pack rat that I am, I have three choices. I grab the most comfortable heels and make my way to Dallas.

After 20 minutes of looking for parking, I find a spot that doesn’t enforce towing. Grab my Code Red and start heading to the line. The last crosswalk that I must encounter is taking forever. I’m at least standing there for two minutes alone when an elderly man walks beside me.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hey, young lady, how are you?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m good! You tryin’ out for Big Brother, too?” I ask him.

“Oh yeah, I was bored today so I decided to give it a try,” he replies.

Hmmm. This man is my competition. I’m stuck somewhere in between, “Trip him when this light turns green, Lisa! It’s a dog eat dog world,” and “YAY, let’s be friends and walk up together!”

The light turns green. I go with the latter.

Mr. Bob and I begin walking across the large intersection to get into at least 100 person line. Three quarters of the way across the road, we start hearing claps and cheering. The sidewalk to the doors of the bar is completely overflowing. The line occupies the whole walk way and directly to the left of the sidewalk are parking spots for parallel parked vehicles. So because of this, Bob and I have to walk in the road to get to the back of the line.

All while this is happening, the line is cheering and clapping. I start feeling real Dorit-ish again like I was at the gas station. I mean I know this shirt is cute, but dang, I didn’t think it warranted claps, cheers and hoorahs. Like do I already have fans?

Then it happens.

We make it to the end of the line, and I’m awkwardly smiling while everyone continues the pep rally. There was a car directly behind us on the road. Remember, we were walking in the road so this car had to creep behind us as we walked. Once we make it on the sidewalk, the car turns into the parking lot that is directly to the right of the sidewalk and behind the bar that the auditions are taking place. His window is rolled down. He’s driving a huge truck. Then I hear whispers.

“It’s James, it’s James!” is being mumbled amongst the crowd.

Low and behold, a previous Big Brother contestant emerges from the large truck and greets the crowd.

Here I am, walking with Bob, strutting down this road like Gigi Hadid, and the cheers and claps aren’t for me. They are for this TV show veteran whom I don’t recognize. Strike 2.

By 5 p.m. Bob and I have filled out the small sheet of paper and made a few friends with our fellow Big Brother groupies. Whilst making small talk, I catch Bob in a little white lie. He tells our group that he travels all over the world for food tasting. His last trip was to Canada, but he told us one guy couldn’t get past the border. He had too many marks on his record or something like that so he had to catch a flight back home to Dallas. He couldn’t cross the Canadian border so the group went without him. Well 20 minutes later he let it slip that the same group of guys went to Toronto a few summers back.

“AAAAAHHHAH!” I think to myself. I’ve caught Bob in a lie. No one else in the group caught it. I knew I should’ve tricked that sucker on the crosswalk. He’s gonna be fierce competition.

By 8 p.m. I’ve been waiting in line for three hours. I still have my number in line, but I just needed to sit down. I decided I would take my number along with me and wait inside the bar and have a few drinks. Kill two birds with one stone. Have a drink to calm my nerves and rest my feet.

I plop down next to a middle aged woman on my left, and I order seasoned fries with jalapeno ranch and a Corona. I know I need to eat because I don’t want to be the sloptart in auditions mumbling. There’s no way I can eat all these fries though. This ranch has my mouth on fire. I’m on my second beer when the lady that was in front of me outside, walks inside.

“Girl, I’m gonna wait in here, too, and have a drink with you!” she says.

“Perfect,” I think because she can finish my fries, and I’ll have someone to chat with.

“Here, girl, if you’re hungry, have some of these fries. I can’t eat them all,” I tell her.

I begin conversation with the lady on my left. We chit chat about this and that when I look down at my phone and it’s 8:30. I ask her to watch my stuff then run outside to see what number they’re on. 92 is the first number I see in line. Perfect, I still have 8 people in front of me before I have to go.

I go back to my bar spot to close out my tab when I notice the fry basket. Susan has eaten every remaining damn fry within a four minute time span. Not only that, but the ranch cup is empty. What did she do, take a shot of it?! Like I don’t mind sharing, Susan, but was it necessary to take all my ranch?

Competitor 2.

I gather my things and head back outside just to be whisked right back inside for the audition. And that’s where it ends, folks.

Casting call is over and I head back to my car.

Looks like I’ve struck out, because I’m still sitting here typing this and not in the Big brother house daydreaming of head of household competitions.

Instead I’m daydreaming of walking down the catwalk and jalapeno ranch. Thanks, Susan.