10 Years Ago Today

Today is a very important day in my life. It's one of those days that was life-changing. Ten years ago today, I went to my first taping of "Late Show with David Letterman".

It was the summer in between by freshman and sophmore year of college. I had gotten the tickets a couple of weeks before and was so excited. Touching the tickets was like touching gold. I hyperventilated. I was finally going to see my idol in person. Life was good.

Monday July 14, 1997. My Mom and I stayed with relatives and took the train in from Connecticut. I had been to New York once before when I was really young, but I didn't remember much if it. I loved New York instantly. I loved the energy and pace. We walked up W. 53rd Street and I vividly remember seeing the Ed Sullivan Theatre come into view on Broadway. I look to my right and see a Roy Rogers. I am home.

Mom and I go to the theatre and get our tickets numbered #13 and #14 (the ticketing system has since changed). We spent the rest of the day walking around and taking in the sights -- the NBC tour, 5th Avenue. But each minute passed was a minute closer to Dave.

Finally the time comes for us to return to the theatre and we stood in line. We struck up a conversation with a teacher from Indiana who had come specifically to see Dave. I was very much in my element. Everyone around me loving Dave as much as me. Everyone knowing how many guys in bear suits fit in a coffee shop (23). I've never been so happy.

We seemed to stand in line forever. But I was too busy looking around taking everything in. Finally, we are ushered into the theatre. Mom and I are put in the third row on the right, the first complete row so nobody is sitting in front of us. It was definitely as cold as the rumor says.

This is when the life-changing moment happened. The warm-up guy, Eddie Brill, comes out, but I don't concentrate on him. I'm on sensory overload taking absolutely everything in. I'm watching the camera guys, and the stage managers and the prop people, and I have a feeling of overwhelming sadness. I want to be on that stage, I want to be part of this so badly. This is what I want to do. It was at that moment, those few moments before Dave came on stage, that I decided I was going to have a career in television.

Paul and the band were introduced and then the man of the hour came on stage. David Letterman was mere feet from me. He asked if anyone was from Indiana and the women I was speaking to earlier in line raised her hand. He called on her. She said she had come to New York to see him and to be a singer. They banter and he goes backstage. The show begins.

After the monologue, Dave brings the woman on stage to sing a song. She goes back to her seat and they Dave comes towards her, and hands her a canned ham. Dave is now inches from me. I am euphoric. On the tape of the show, you can actually see me stand a little in my seat. The woman is three seats to my left and I actually asked to hold the ham. She hands it to me; I am hugging the ham. And then I gave it back.

During the first commerical break, Inky the Cue Card Boy must have noticed my "highly admiring". He hands me a blue card Dave had tossed during the first act. I am beside myself. I am absolutely beside myself.

Tim Allen was a surprise guest for the top 10. Don Rickles was the first guest. Brendan Fraser was guest number 2. When Dave told the guests for the next night, he tossed his pencil into the camera. Inky hands me this as well. I honestly think I am going to combust. En Vogue was the musical guest. Dave says good night. As I'm walking out, Alan Kalter gave me the front page of the script. I hold my new momentos like one would hold the Hope Diamond or the original copy of the Constitution.

We head back to Connecticut having experienced one of the greatest days of my life.

I've seen Dave a handful of times since, the highlight coming three years later when I actually spoke to him. But nothing will compare to that first time, ten years ago today.

Quote of the Day:
"We do not remember days, we remember moments." -Cesare Pavese