August 8^th, 2001

8:05 A.M. Sunday Morning

“I’ll take Bruce Springsteen for 300, Jeff...”

Those are my thoughts as I sit on the PATH train to Manhattan, eagerly anticipating my chance to audition for “Rock ‘n Roll Jeopardy”, an excellent, if somewhat hard-to-find, show on VH1. A sort of rhythmic sister to the more popular “Jeopardy”, “Rock ‘n Roll Jeopardy” calls upon those vast realms of musical knowledge that sits in the netherworlds of our brains, hoping to one day be called upon for situations like this. Thanksgiving and Uncle John’s birthday only comes around once a year and, since I don’t go to dinner parties, I figure this was the next best thing. This will be my claim to fame, my Olympics, my championship match – my one grasp at immortality. What girl wouldn’t want to say that she’s dating a Rock ‘n Roll Jeopardy champion?

“Another Daily Double? Today must be my lucky day...”

It’s raining like crazy outside. This is a good omen, for I love rainy days. I just know the god of water, whomever he (or she) may be, is smiling down on me, now. I glance over at the old man sitting to the left of me – he stares blankly ahead, zoning out of this world and into the next. Doesn’t he know who I am? Doesn’t he know that I’m representing not just New Jersey, but all of its citizens and denizens and assorted critters? Doesn’t he care? Doesn’t anyone care? I look around the train, carefully searching for some silent acknowledgement of my ensuing mission. No one cares.

“You’re are so funny, Jeff...”

I take the PATH all the way to its final stop at 33^rd Street. From there, I walk up to VH1 studios, where the auditions are being held. I can’t divulge the location, but suffice to say, it doesn’t exactly lend itself to two-page spreads in Home and Garden. The outside is nondescript – a cardboard sign with the words, “Rock ‘n Roll Jeopardy Auditions” carved on it is the only clue that my life is about to change...

“I just wanna find that special someone, Jeff...”

I’m not movie-star handsome. I’m not a star athlete. I’m the brainy-looking type that women hurry past on a day-to-day basis. I inhabit my dream life more readily than the one bestowed upon me here on Earth. In my dream life, virtual Everett is everything Newark Everett isn’t. Love, respect, and the rest of Life’s greater amenities – Virtual Everett’s got it and then some. Newark Everett is just, well, Newark Everett. But that will change with a click of the Jeopardy button...

“That’s some band you guys have there...”

Even though the show’s host, Jeff Probst, he of “Survivor” fame, isn’t there, an air of excitement is felt throughout the studio. We are actually in the studio where the VH1 Top Ten Countdown is filmed! We are in the building where host Cain gets his golden locks teased and sprayed! After a briefing by the shows coordinators, I, along with 49 other contestants, am given a test sheet with 25 questions on it. That formerly useless trivia is now our keys to immortality, at least in a tv sense. Now, which one of the Gibbs brothers has the full beard and falsetto...

A half- hour later, only twenty dreamers remain. In order to remain in the running, at least twenty of the twenty-five test questions had to be correct. They don’t tell you your score, but after careful consultation with my fellow competitors, I realize that I missed three out of the twenty-five. I should’ve paid more attention to the AC (Adult Contemporary) record charts of 1992. That damned Rod Stewart! Anyway, I passed!

“I’ll take quotable quotes for a thousand...”

Next, we play an actual 15-minute game of “Rock ‘n Roll Jeopardy”, replete with real buzzers. The Jeopardy buzzer has always held a mythical significance to me. Holding it is like grasping the Holy Grail, albeit one that lights up every time you press on it with your thumb. Playing in groups of three, we are encouraged to not just play the game, but “play” the game. Show the audience that you’re happy to be here! Show the people that you have a well of mostly useless information that you just can’t hold inside anymore! Let ‘em see you sweat! It’s good drama and it makes for an interesting show.

Sandwiched in between a teacher and a lawyer, I more than hold my own, answering questions with gusto and dramatically shaking my head in frustration when I get “outbuzzed” by my competitors. I muster up all the “hard-at-work” facial expressions I know to let them see how much I want this, how badly I need this. I’m not just playing for the people who know that Elvis’ middle name was Aron. I’m not just playing for the people who know that the Doobie Brothers were the famous rock band that guest-starred on an episode of “What’s Happening”. No, I’m playing, make that fighting, for something bigger than myself. I’m fighting for the survival of the info-dweeb. We’re a rapidly disappearing breed. And, at this moment, I, Everett T. Ruth, am their patron saint.

“A year’s supply of turtle wax. Wow, just what I needed...”

A few more briefings by the show’s coordinators and it’s over. Just like that. “Don’t call us, we might call you” is what we’re left clinging to. Even so, we’re full of hope and wishes. I bond with some of my fellow competitors for a few moments before we exchange hearty goodbyes and venture back to our normal lives, each hoping upon hope that we’re one of the chosen few. I leave VH1 Studios in a state of sublime grace, for soon, Virtual Everett and Newark Everett will be one and the same...

It’s been over a week now and I’m still waiting by the phone. They’d better hurry up and call, because my boss is quickly losing his patience...