I Wanted To Be a Millionaire, PART 1

(Graphic courtesy Sony Pictures Television)

This is the first of a two-part series on the author's experiences as a contestant on the television show Who Wants To Be a Millionaire.

When I first got the call from my friend, the lovely Midori Robles-Hepburn, I could scarcely believe my ears. Truth be told, I actually didn't believe my ears.  Even though Midori was well-connected in Hollywood circles (she was the cousin of Cheech Marin of Cheech & Chong fame), I found it hard to believe that she was going to be a contestant on the popular game show Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.

What’s more, she had picked little old me to be her in-studio lifeline, known as a “Plus One,” someone she could call on one time only if she got in a pickle. In return, Midori would give me 20 percent of whatever she won, whether she ended up calling on me or not. According to the math that I was taught in school, that meant that if she won the whole enchilada I would get $200,000!

Not being much of a TV person, I hadn’t seen the show in many a year.  In its heyday, WWTBAM gripped the nation on a weekly basis, pitting contestants against ever-increasingly obscure trivia questions in a hierarchical pursuit of that $1 million.

The taping was set for the following July in the city that radio personality George Knapp refers to as the “planetary capital of sun, fun, sin, sex and secrets,” Las Vegas, Nevada.

The day before the taping, we checked into Bally’s and immediately began to work out our strategy.  We intently studied the prize scale—the more questions you answer correctly, of course, the higher up the ladder you go.

Every contestant wins at least $1,000, even if they get nothing right.  From there, it goes to $5,000, then $10,000 and $20,000 and so on all the way to that eponymous One Million Bucks.

“Remember,” I told Midori more times than I could count, “Our money is worth more than their ratings. Once you get to the $20,000 question, unless you are absolutely sure what the answer is, just walk.”

To “walk” means you decline to even attempt to answer the question.  You then walk away with the amount of money awarded for the last correctly-answered question. If, however, you get a question wrong, you fall all the way back down to $1,000 or maybe $5,000, depending on the last threshold you passed.

Midori readily agreed with this advice and acknowledged my warnings about getting caught up in the lights and the glitter and the excitement.

The following day we showed up at the studio in Bally’s and were sequestered in the green room with about 15 other contestants along with their “Plus Ones.” They had lots of stuff for us to eat and endless episodes of the show to watch, just to further acquaint us with how the whole thing worked and which strategies we might employ.

But we were, after all, sequestered. We had long ago forfeited our cell phones and we could not leave the room except for a potty break and even then only in the company of one of the production assistants, or PA's.

Two by two, the contestants and their Plus Ones were taken ahead of us for their chance at the moolah. First there were about 28 contestants left, then 18, then 12 and then eight. By around 5 p.m., there were only four of us left. The PA’s came in again and took away the other couple, leaving Midori and I alone in the green room with boxes of donuts and coffee and more reruns of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire.

Finally, after another half-hour wait under the watchful eye of one of the PA’s, our number came up. We were led from the green room to Make-up and Wardrobe then down a long hall and twisting stairwell towards the stage.

I assumed the stage door would lead directly to all the action, but it instead opened up onto a huge, cavernous backstage area. We entered at the upper story and had to literally grope our way along darkened catwalks towards the taping area. Far below, one of our fellow contestants was in the ring, sweating out whatever bizarre questions were being thrown at them. The crowd roared as if we were descending into a modern-day Roman Coliseum.

We were then led to a second group of green rooms where we sat for another half hour or so. Then, just as we were about to be called up, the work whistle blew and taping was called off for the day. All that waiting around that day for nothing.

The good news was that the following day we would be first in line.  And we were.

NEXT WEEK: I Wanted To Be a Millionaire, PART 2