We're Not Swans...or Are We?

No, I’ve never been on TV. But I know people who have.

Sophomore year of college, my jaw dropped when I saw a certain friend’s former flame as one of the many eligible ladies who wanted to marry a multi-millionaire. Putting someone you know in the real world into the TV world changes everything. Better lighting, better make-up, all the better to mock around a tv and make fun at Brescia’s expense. (Joe, only kidding, at least you didn’t meet her at a family reunion.) For the record, Miss Gibson did not advance to the main part of the show, but it did give her just enough screen time to warrant her own IMDB page. And with one credit to her name, she now matches my page.

Yeah, I know Harrison. I introduced him to Calista, another Shawnee alumnus.

Anyway, this wasn’t the only time I recognized people on TV. I have a very faint recollection of my parents being interviewed for the local news as part of one of those product safety stories involving automobiles. You know, the ones where the reporter shoves the microphone into the car window as the potential interviewee is just about to pull into traffic and asks them their thoughts on something lacking any controversy whatsoever. I think I was 12 at the time, so the following dialogue may lacks fact-checking:

Field Reporter: Sir, do you think that seat belts are a good thing for cars to have?
John Condon: Um, is that even a question?
Field Reporter: Yes, it is. Keep in mind I’m new here. And all this I’m saying to you now, it will get edited out in time for broadcast. Thanks. So could you answer the question about seat belts?
John Condon: Did you know that I had never coached a Louis?

Yeah, my memory’s a bit fuzzy.

Well, since everyone else I know is either of the opinion that reality TV is, and I quote, “dopey,” or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time (like when Toms was in the last row of that group shot at the NBA photo shoot), I’ve been unable to recognize anyone else personally on the television. That is, until last night.Don’t ask my why I found “So You Think You Can Dance?” on Fox to be intriguing. I really have no intention of watching on a weekly basis, and on top of that, I don’t think I can dance. But nonetheless, while flipping channels last night, the roulette wheel landed on Fox, and I’m watching amateur after amateur pop, lock, and pop-lock their way to airtime.

The audition show of any series like this has been made famous by American Idol. Show a bunch of crappy dancers with a couple good ones mixed in so people can get interested and laugh their head off, and feel that they’re so much better that they end up auditioning next summer. Dude, if you really want to know who’s advancing, just pay attention to which ones get a video biography that takes the viewer to their hometown to meet their family. It’s a dead giveaway.

Like Musa Cooper.

What’s so special about Musa Cooper? Two things, and I’ll list them in ascending order of importance. First off, the guy can dance. He’s a break dancer from Burlington, NJ, aged 28, and is quite good at his craft. He’ll probably advance to the final 20 contestants, which will be nice for the Philly news channels, so they’ll have a personal story to cover rather than interview my dad about seat belts.

Secondly, and more importantly, I’ve met Musa Cooper. And not only have I met him, I’ve hurdled against him.Yep, Cooper was part of our archrival Lenape’s hurdle relay squad back in the day. If I recall correctly, he was a fast kid with little form. But he was better than me. I think he ran the 400 as well, but I didn’t. Running all the way around the track was for suckers.

Rob? Weng? James? Do you remember?

Moral of the Story: Your dancing skills is directly proportional to your hurdling ability.