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An American Idol Passoverby Andrea Shuman -- 04/17/2003
View Printable version of this article It’s one thing to watch American Idol by yourself or with one’s peers. It’s an entirely different experience viewing it with a roomful of teenagers. Last night there were 34 of us at my brother-in-law’s house for the Passover Seder. (For those of you not familiar with the holiday, it revolves around retelling the ancient story of how the Jews escaped slavery from Egypt – think “The Ten Commandments.” Families converge, songs are sung, prayers are said {and said and said}, a big meal is served, much wine is drunk, and a good time is had by all. This experience is called a Seder. Everyone up to speed? Marvelous!) Although it was promised that our Seder service would only last a half hour, we ran just a wee bit longer. By the time dinner was ready to be served, it was 8:20 pm. At this point, my 15-year-old nephew Jeffrey shouts out to me from across the room that American Idol (the results show) is coming on. We amble downstairs to the den, where about ten kids ranging from Junior High through High school are now sprawled out on the couch and on the floor. One recent college grad who works as a tennis instructor is also among us. Immediately I realize this is a perfect opportunity for a little research. “So, who’s gonna win?” I ask the group. They come to life. “Ruuuuuben!” some yell out. “Josh!” shout the others. The show begins and everyone excitedly bounces around as the contestants are introduced, calling out their favorites. The matzo and Manischewitz have obviously kicked in. Kimberly C. and Carmen get the most appreciative hoots from the boys. No one says much about Kimberley Locke. One girl in our crowd yells out a little squeal for Clay, but it’s clear that Clay’s target demographics do not extend to my brother-in-law’s finished basement. There are cheers for Ruben and Josh. I ask another question. “Do you guys vote?” The answer seems split down the middle, with more girls than guys admitting to picking up the phone. It finally dawns on the kids that I have more than a passing interest in this show. “Which one is the girl that did the porn?” a boy asks me. “Uhm… that was Frenchie, but they kicked her off weeks ago. It was pictures on a website, but…” As soon as it’s clear none of the girls on the show are doing porn at the moment, no one cares. The babbling and squealing continues, right up through the Group Sing. My nephew Jeffrey, sitting closest to the TV, wants to actually hear the singers. He doesn’t say a word to the others, but cranks up the volume from the cable remote. The chatter from his cousins and friends grows louder but that doesn’t dissuade Jeff. He merely picks up the TV remote and turns the volume up from there. The TV is now blaring, and people quiet down long enough for me to recognize the Final Seven are singing “For The Longest Time.” Commercial Break. The tennis instructor tells us how a friend of his, a tennis pro, is going to be on the next Survivor. “He was walking down a street in L.A., and he saw a woman was following him. He walked away, but she came after him. He tried covering up his face and walking faster, but she wouldn’t go away. He started running but she finally she caught up with him. Turns out she wanted him to be on Survivor, and asked if he would do a five minute video to audition! He said he would.” “So, he’s in the cast?” I ask. “Oh, he’s gonna be, for sure. He’s good looking and a great guy. He’s definitely gonna make it.” I make a note to myself to check for a tennis pro in Survivor 7. Or are they casting number 8 now? Whichever. I take a break to join the adults upstairs and get some food. When I return a few minutes later, the din from the kids is overwhelming. The younger cousins have now joined the group, and it’s pandemonium in the basement. “Who’s in the bottom three?” I shout out over the noise. “All the hot chicks!” moans one of the high school boys. “Why can’t the other girl [Kim Locke] be in there? She’s ug-LEE!” It’s clear that looks are paramount with this group, who wouldn’t know Smokey Robinson from Smokey the Bear. Then again, this is the crowd Fox is after, so pay attention, all you TV execs. Jeff, ignoring the noise and the craziness, slides up to the TV screen and calmly points to Carmen. “She’s the one going tonight.” Good for you, Jeff, I think to myself. You have an ear for talent, and you know what’s going on. Either that, or you’ve been reading all the message boards. Of course, after it’s announced that Kim C. is booted, there are more moans and screams from everyone. That is, except the tennis instructor. After Carmen is saved, he merely smiles, puts his hands behind his head and says, “That’s my girl!” I look at him quizzically. He gives me a knowing grin. And just like that, the show is over, and everyone runs upstairs for dessert. I’m not sure if one evening’s AI watched with a gaggle of teens can prove anything, but it was an eye-opening experience. I will, however, venture a prediction: at some point in the future, Carmen’s unexplainable success on this show will eventually be traced to a cabal of tennis instructors in their early twenties who were hell-bent on subjecting the rest of us to a helluva practical joke. Happy Pesach, everyone. Andrea Shuman covers a variety of topics for RealityNewsOnline and FoxesOnIdol. You can reach her at ABostonGal@yahoo.com. Be sure to sign up for the RealityNewsOnline/FoxesOnIdol e-mail update so you can stay informed about new articles on both sites! For all of the RealityNewsOnline articles about this show, check out the American Idol page. For more news about reality TV, be sure to check SirLinksALot! View Printable version of this article
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