Amtrekker

Hey Team,

I had to wake up at the crack of dawn yesterday for the Good Morning America interview. I know when I say crack of dawn I usually MEAN noonish…but this time the sun wasn’t even up when I was.

I also have to say that at that point (in light of the craziness from the day before) I was still kind of in denial about whether or not it was really happening. Even when the car pulled up I was thinking to myself, “Are my friends big enough douche bags to be willing to rent a car and driver just to make me look like an idiot?”

This way of thinking was compounded when I got to the studio in Times Square and my name wasn’t on the list for security. I got to stand around wearing my backpack and a stupid grin while people ran around trying to find someone that had heard of me.

Finally:

“Is this where you’re supposed to be?”

“I really have no idea. This is just where the car dropped me off.”

“OOOHHHH! You’re one of the guests! This way.”

I was led upstairs to the greenroom (right next door to Mariah Carey’s dressing room) and told to set down my stuff and they’d get me over to hair and makeup in a few minutes. (I tried to explain that I wasn’t a girl…they didn’t laugh.)

“Would you like a beverage Mr. Rounsaville?”

“Um…do you have orange juice?”

Of course they did but before I even had time to enjoy more than a couple sips they whisked me off to “hair and makeup” and told me to leave it behind.

“Right this way Mr. Rounsaville.”

“Um…I don’t know how this works but would you mind just calling me Brett?”

The hair lady seemed to be pretty happy that I was planning on keeping my hat on so it was just a quick powder to the face before I got to go back to my orange juice…which was promptly taken away from me as I was led out to the set…

And offered a beverage.

“Do you have orange juice?”

The blue mug it came in said “Good Morning America” across the front and for some reason that’s one of the few memories that still sticks out. Everything else that happened for the next few minutes was so ridiculously surreal and amazing that I’m still having a hard time processing it. I had to watch the actual segment earlier today otherwise I wouldn’t have a clue what I had said.

I DO know that I spoke to Donald freakin’ Trump (not his real middle name) over the phone and that I am one step closer to home!!! (I’m trying to get a hold of a copy of the segment that I can link to for anyone that hasn’t seen it. I wasn’t able to film anything while I was there so it won’t make it into a podcast.)

After we shot for the show I was hustled off to another location in the building where I did my first ever radio interview. It was for the Good Morning America radio program on XM Satellite Radio and I remember that portion a little more clearly. I was definitely talked to about how the radio host couldn’t believe how polite I was to “The Donald” and I definitely expounded on how petrified I am of feathered dinosaurs.

Back to the greenroom where I met Linda (not Laura as some careless travelers would have you believe), Frank and Suneet who would later be mistake for my parents and my bodyguard! They were all super nice and were there as guests of one of the producers to check out the Mariah Carey performance. And as fun as that was I think the highlight of my day actually came as I was trying to leave the studio.

A huge crowd had formed outside the doors thanks to everyone’s favorite glitter encrusted diva and I had to get to “my car.” So, despite the fact that I’m basically a homeless bum with a firm grasp of technology one of the security guards pushed his way through the crowd ahead of me saying, “Your car is this way, sir.” As the throng of bored people stared at me trying to figure out why I was important.

We got to the car where the driver was holding the door for me and I jumped in; cue more interested but ultimately confused looks. And as we were driving away some guy with a press pass looked into the window and shouted, “How you doing, Brett?”

“Great!!!”

“Nice job today!”

“Thanks.”

And then “my driver” drove “my car” to the nearest Chinatown bus where I dropped fifteen bucks to sit uncomfortably wedged in a seat for the four-hour trip up to Boston. Back to being another average vagrant!

So…here it is!

I’m done.

Brett.

If you want to help out you know where to click!

Don’t let me stop you.