NBC Studios: THE RIDE
I take the NBC studio tour for the first time. 1997. The beginning of the tour happens in a control room simulation studio and Conan and Andy are there to greet us with a pre-recorded message. They pretend it’s a ride. The lights flash. I crack up. Who are these hilarious 30-somethings? We visit their studio on the tour. 6A. It’s cold in there because they need it to counterbalance the lights which will be turned on later for a taping. People are mad we can’t see Rosie O’Donnell and her studio. I legitimately do not care about that, despite liking Rosie. This studio feels fun to me. There are blue walls with yellow stars, and I love the way it looks. There are covers on the cameras, chairs, bandstand podiums, and host desk. Elaborate “gold” sconces line the walls. The theatre seating has 1990’s car upholstery that scratches at my my bare, summertime legs.
Seinfeld. Seinfeld was my favorite thing and I was so obsessed with it and TV and stories in general. Then Seinfeld ended and I watched Jerry on Leno, which led into my first proper episode of Conan. He knew everyone was asleep and that he was playing to an unconscious audience. Banners reading GOODBYE JERRY populated homes while people slept and Conan’s cold open blared in the background unwatched. This self depreciation cracked me up over and over.
He spoke to me with silliness. And I was all ears. He was cute, but not the type of cute I usually turn my head towards. He had glorious sideburns and a high, strawberry blond pompadour.
I watch Late Night every night. And I study. And if I don’t get something that seems to be funny, I do something I’ve never done before: I look up the reference.
It’s 1998 now. Conan's 5th anniversary of being on TV is September 13. We don’t know what’s going to happen yet to celebrate, but it’s going to be a big party.
This is the dawn of my time on the internet. I teach myself how to set the timer on my VCR. I’m about to be a freshman in high school and I make symphonic band. Marching band starts at the beginning of August, and we go away to camp for a week. I bring the portable TV with me, hoping to be able to get NBC in the middle of the night. I wake myself up and have no idea what time it is. I can’t find Conan, but I witness my best friend, Vanessa, sit up in her sleep and scream for the first time, but not the last. It’s alarming, but a great story.
I get home from camp and discover newsgroups. I become a member of alt.fan.conan-obrien. AFCOB. I want to learn but also impress people. I am special, right?
The 5th anniversary special airs in prime time on September 16. I count down the days and minutes. Conan dives into the Hudson River and we are off to the races. My childhood cat dies three days later.
I force my friends to watch various bits i find hilarious. Learning, learning, learning about Conan. On the internet. Reading old articles. Realizing I know where Tom Shales lives and I contemplate leaving him a sternly worded letter. I know he was wrong when he told Conan to go gently into that good night. I find out he knows that now.
I have no credit card, which is too bad when I discover eBay. OH GOD EBAY. I pause the taped episodes during the credits to learn the names of the writers. I do research and learn about the writers. Conan has a puppy that he adopts after he appears in a sketch on the show. Hudson. Named for Ernie Hudson the Black Ghostbuster, not the river.
All of a sudden, Andy is leaving. But I just got here. Why would he go so soon? His last day will be Friday, May 26, 2000. I am 15. I beg my mom to somehow, some way take me to New York to see Conan. To see Andy. Before he goes away forever. I call the ticket line (3056) and finally get through (3057) and get tickets for Tuesday, May 23. The first show of Andy’s last week. Mom tells me in order to miss school, I have to prove I have all A’s and B’s from my teachers. They understand the importance of this event for me, so they lie to my mom. I am eternally grateful. Still. So grateful.
I pick out my outfit carefully and think I look cool. A tie dye peace sign t-shirt and gray distressed Gap slacks. Converse all-stars. Navy blue. I wash my hair and sleep on it wet, so it’s too big on one side and yet completely flat on the other. Mom puts my hair in rollers like she does for band concerts. I need to look 16 or I wont get in. UNDER 16 NOT ADMITTED.
We drive - Mom drives, I ride - all the way to Iselin, New Jersey for us to do New York for the day. From DC. It takes almost five hours. We park at Metropark station and ride the New Jersey Transit to Penn Station. My stomach is BUMPING the whole time with excitement. Everything takes too long. Nothing has ever, ever taken this long.
30 Rock looks different today. I’m in line on the mezzanine with my mom, a child in a sea of adult comedy fans. The ticket office letter that came in the mail says we need to be in line by 4pm. We get there at 3:30 and I wish we were there at 2:30 or 3. We can’t sit down on the mezzanine floor while we wait. There’s a sign for people with VIP tickets. How do I get those?
NBC pages (can I have this job? Please?) begin the process of taking us up to the 6th floor one elevator of people at a time. We pass through a metal detector. While in line for the metal detector, Tom Brokaw walks by. My mom is STUNNED at the sight of him. “Mr Brokaw…” she whispers, and only I hear her.
The elevator carpet is maroon, but has faded over the years and is now a bandaid pink littered with yellow-gold NBC peacocks. The elevator brand, printed in steel at the threshold of the gold-trimmed lobby marble of 30 Rock, is Westinghouse, a company that partnered with GE and RCA to form NBC. I admire the history. When the elevator doors open, we spill out with other Late Night fans onto the 6th floor. The neon overhead lights steal a little glamor from the 30 Rock lobby experience, but I don't care. We are closer.
The halls of 6 (or is it 7?) are a place I’ve been before. The NBC tour from years ago. But now I know more. Pictures of Conan at his desk next to various celebrities line the walls. I recognize most of them. There’s lots of comedy people. I stop and stare, in awe, of one with Conan and Steve Martin. An old hero of mine with my new hero. We are told we can’t leave the studio for the duration of the taping and are encouraged to go to the bathroom beforehand. In the middle stall, I am full of nerves. As I sit on the toilet, a patch of graffiti written in ball point pen catches my eye: “Conan is watching you pee.” My nerves ease up on me then. We file into the studio. It’s cold in there, but the energy is different than it was on the tour. Everyone is excited.
We sit in the second row behind the monologue mark and corresponding camera. 5-6 seats to the right of us is the aisle. I can see everything, and as a short person, I’m thrilled. The studio is full and the doors are closed. I am suddenly so self conscious. Everyone here is an ADULT and I’m wearing tie dye. And I have fluffy hair. And I’m a child. And I’m with my mom.
The band is introduced. THE MAX WEINBERG 7. They are fantastic. I know each of them from the end of show credits. They are the most amazing live act I’ve ever seen. The warm up comic is a familiar looking guy because he’s a writer. Brian McCann. He’s so close. He’s so many characters and he’s so close.
Brian McCann announces Conan, and he leaps into the studio from the hallway, all leg and hair and makeup. He's not wearing his suit jacket yet, but the rest of the show wardrobe in in tact - purple dress shirt and red tie ready to go. He bounds up the steps into the audience, frantically dancing while the band plays and the audience cheers and claps. My face hurts from smiling. I’m too stunned to move. He's so close. He chooses a random dude on the aisle to dance with, then cuts the band off. “Sir, NO! This is extremely inappropriate behavior! What has gotten into you?!” He welcomes the crowd and asks where we are from. The people from farthest away get cheers (Canada) and Conan introduces Andy with so much love and pride. In a flash it is over, and he bounds out of the studio the same way he came in, like a deer avoiding traffic on the highway.
The show is a blur. That’s ok, I’ve got it set to record at home. No one notices that I’m with my mom, or that I’m 15, or that I’m awkward. In those moments, I am, for the first time, really and truly me. We buy merchandise, including a travel coffee mug. I’ll need it and it’s contents to get through school tomorrow.
My unbridled joy helps me to keep my mom awake all the way back to Metropark, back to the car, down the NJ Turnpike, I-95, and finally the DC beltway to home. I thank my mom probably 50 times on the drive home, and every time since then that I think about it.
That was the beginning. But there’s so much more.
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