Becoming part of a LIVE studio audience

Here’s a bit of irony for you: Now that I live in New York, I don’t have a television, yet I have numerous opportunities to see national TV shows filmed. So while I can’t see these personalities on the boob tube, I can see them live…in the flesh! SNL, David Letterman, the View, and numerous daytime / late night shows in front of a live studio audience are all shot right here in the big apple. While it is a ton of fun to see these shows up close and personal, it is a giant, royal pain in the ass to go through the process. I found myself in this situation recently as I ventured out west of 9th to see the Daily Show.
The process starts online. You go to the show’s website to see when free tickets are available. The shows are generally sold out months in advance, with some shows, like the Colbert Report, booked out over a year. If, miracle of miracles, you see a date on their calendar where tickets are actually available, you register and are sent confirmation e-mail, much like you would when purchasing airline or concert tickets. The process is remarkably similar. There’s just one difference: these are not tickets. It looks like a ticket, it feels like a ticket, but it is not, in fact, a ticket. The e-mail is simply an indication you’ve been put on this list for that night. It absolutely does not guarantee you entry into the show.
Once you have your e-mail, the show will send you a few follow up reminders on the date and location. The reminders are upbeat and make it seem like they’re looking forward to your visit. But make no mistake, they have not promised you a thing. You are not guaranteed entry. They will slam that studio door in your pretty little face. It’s best not to be naive.
The day of the show, they’ll send you one final e-mail that begs and pleads with you to show up and says if you’re thinking of canceling, to let them know so someone else can get your “ticket.” Do not let this give you confidence. You do not have a ticket. You are not guaranteed entry.
These various e-mails give you detailed instructions. Here’s what mine said from the Daily Show:

WHAT YOU NEED TO DO:
Everyone must be 18 years and older. Please make sure you and your guests have City/State ID. If person(s) looks under age they will be carded if the person(s) in question does not have valid ID they will be asked off the general line and be denied entry. Our suggestion on arrival time is between 4:00pm and 4:30pm. Your guests may meet you on line until 4:30pm. Past 4:31pm they will not be allowed to meet you on line. Please understand other people have been waiting outside just like you and courtesy is a must. If your guest shows up past 4:31pm they will be asked to get on the back of our General line. Entry into the studio is on a first come first serve basis. You reserved your tickets with us but you will not be confirmed until we start giving out our studio tickets. Our doors open at 5:15pm. Show ends around 7:15pm. You may not obtain tickets for auctions, fundraisers, raffles or any kind of benefits through this method. Groups larger than four will be turned away at the door, even if they are separate reservations. The parking garage at 680 12th Avenue is offering all audience members a discounted parking price of $10.00. You will need to have your parking ticket stamped and dated by a Daily Show staff member. Parking is non-refundable and does not guarantee your entry to the taping.

So tickets have been reserved, but not confirmed, and they are very up-front that there will be some waiting involved.
Today, I decided not to chance it and showed up at 10 to 4:00. The line snaked around two city blocks when I arrived and my heart sank a little. I knew immediately my chances of actually getting into the studio weren’t great. I made my way to the back of the line with a cup of hot Starbucks and my latest book on New York. I wasn’t ready to give up hope quite yet, and things weren’t so bad. I got out of work early, was seeing a new area of Manhattan (not the most beautiful….I imagine Stewart’s there for the cheap rent), and the weather was divine.
Before long, I started talking to the three people behind me. They were around my age, relatively new to the city and all lived in Brooklyn. Making small talk made the time go faster, and before I knew it, it was 5:00. A man working for the Daily Show came out and started distributing passes to the crowd. When he got closer to us, the passes changed from yellow to white. When he got to me, he didn’t give me a pass, but did check off my name on his official clipboard and put not one, but two stars next to it.
He stepped back from the crowd and made a general announcement. “I’m very sorry ladies and gentlemen, but we have reached capacity. Please keep looking on the Daily Show website for future available dates. “
He concluded with (and this is verbatim): “Seriously. There’s no chance of you getting into tonight, so it’s best to be on your way.”
There were five of us who got stars by our names and he pulled aside next. “Okay,” he said, “since you were so close to getting in, we’re going to give you VIP tickets for a future taping. This means, you will not have to wait in line next time. Just e-mail the Daily Show with your information and they’ll give you a list of dates to choose from.”
The small group started scattering. I held back a moment collecting my things (I had made myself quite comfortable in my little area of line), and the man returned to me. “Listen,” he said, “we just got a call from Colbert and they’re a little short tonight, so if you really want to see a show today, you can head over there.” I’m not sure if he took pity on me because of my slight “bag lady” appearance or because I was the only one not in a large group, but I immediately lit up and almost skipped over to the Colbert Report – two short blocks away.
There weren’t nearly as many people milling about and I went up to one of two women in front holding clipboards. Clipboards apparently are very important in this process. They smiled at me and asked for my “ticket.”
“I actually don’t have a ticket,” I said, “but the man over at the Daily Show said there might be room for me tonight.”
“It’s just you,” asked the young woman. I get that a lot.
“Yep, just me.”
“I’m not making any promises,” she said, “but we are a little skimpy tonight, so you might be able to get in.” She checked my ID, wrote down my information and asked me to stand aside. I waited over 40 minutes against a gate. As I waited, more and more people showed up with confirmation e-mails and soon the line was rather long. There were also more people standing with me in standby, so as the sun started to set, I was feeling doubtful about my chances. If I didn’t get into this show, I would have waited over two hours for absolutely nothing. I shifted back and forth and tried to avoid the man standing next to me. He was from Phoenix and would not take off his sunglasses. He talked about how much he loved reality television and NASCAR (so we had a lot in common) and at one point said, “Hey – if we don’t get into this show, maybe we can get a drink somewhere.” Ugh.
So my line-waiting experience at the Colbert Report was not going well. At 6:15, the young woman who spoke to me earlier called my name. “Erin Gilbert?” she said above the small crowd. My heart leapt and I nearly ran up to her. “That’s me,” I said. She reached inside her satchel and pulled out a light blue laminated ticket, about the size of a postcard. Not a reservation mind you…a real life confirmation! I was thrilled! I didn’t have to talk to Mr. Phoenix anymore AND all my waiting was going to pay off.
I went to the back of yet another line (my third of the evening), but this was by far the best one. Not only was this line a guaranteed entry into a show, but when I walked down the hall, a man handed me a glass of wine! Things were definitely looking up.
After a few minutes, another man ushered a small group of us through a side door to an ugly waiting room (white walls, white doors, fluorescent light…your basic insane asylum look…) through thick black curtains and finally, into the studio. The studio was tiny – I bet it held less than 100 people. It was bathed in a red-ish, purple light and had a cozy feeling, even though the air conditioning was pumping. I didn’t even take off my jacket.
I was sat to the far left of the stage with a pretty good view of Colbert’s desk. I had a partially obstructed view of the interview table, though. No matter. I was just glad to be sitting after such a long time of waiting and to finally be there.
The man who led me in stood in front of the group and made some general announcements. There was no gum chewing, no talking during the shoot (but of course we could laugh), and absolutely, positively, no cell phone use. No pictures could be taken of any kind and all cell phones had to be turned off. They were serious about the cell phones!
A few minutes later, another man came up with a microphone and started talking to us like we were all friends. He was pretty funny, asking people where they were from and what they did, and soon I realized what he was doing: He was warming up the crowd. He went on for about 20 minutes and introduced Stephen Colbert, who looks completely different in person.
Just kidding.
He looks exactly the same. The crowd had the chance to ask him questions, but I couldn’t think of any. Stephen was warm and genuine and immediately likeable. He had none of the arrogance that’s laid on so thick once the cameras roll. He chatted with us much like the other comedian and was extremely relaxed. His hands stayed in his pockets most of the time and his retorts were as smooth as a politician’s.
When he left the stage, he announced we were about to start the show and thanked us for coming.
The man immediately over my left shoulder kicked things off, counting down in his booming voice. Suddenly, the theme music pumped through the studio and I had my second wave of excitement. Remember, I haven’t had a TV in six weeks. I was actually looking forward to watching the program.
The show is shot in real time. The night I was there, there were no second takes or flubs. Stephen was smooth, professional, and animated. In the time where there are commercial breaks, hair and make-up people come out to touch him up. He also frequently checks in with the audience during the breaks, making sure we’re still excited and pumped up.
The entire shoot took 30 minutes and after taping, he was gone and a team of interns were shuffling us out of the studio the same way they shuffled us in. Yes, it was a lot to go through for 30 minutes of entertainment, but it was a nice New York experience. I’m looking forward to my VIP taping in July with John Stewart – all the fun with none of the hassle. That’s more my style.
In the meantime, I think I’ll stick to entertainment that has a confirmation ticket, not just a reservation. I like doing things I can depend on.