I woke up late Sunday May 22, still lying in bed, when the contemplation began again: should I stay or should I go?
It’d been an ongoing conundrum for several weeks, ever since I learned that “This is Us” would be having its final FYC event that day, and more importantly, knowing most likely that I wouldn’t be invited. I prayed on the regular that that wouldn’t be the case. I’d been getting invited randomly to these things, usually a few days ahead, and for this one I was hoping that it would be the same. If I didn’t get invited, I told myself I was going to go anyway. I would crash the party. There’s always room for one.
My invite never came.
And here it was Sunday, May 22. And there I was still wanting to go.
I’d come up with sound arguments for both staying and going, the most logical being, don’t go. I’d only embarrass myself, make a fool out of myself, perhaps even get myself banned from other events. I’m a math girl; I’m all about the logic. This made too much sense to go against.
But I also love that show. It’s my Tuesday night buddy. I’ve been with it since the beginning, I really wanted to be there with it in this special way in the end. I’d already imagined myself, several times, giving the cast a standing ovation as they walked out following the screening. I had to be there.
Besides, I’m not much of a risk taker. I play by the rules, sometimes to a fault. I mean I’ve taken chances, sho nuff, but for the most part, I don’t break the rules. I’m like a lawyer who digs and gets her client off on some obscure technicality, rather than one that does a backroom deal with the judge.
It’s how I got my internship at MTV back in the day, when MTV was a really big deal. It took me a whole year. At first, they weren’t checking for me, so I had to get clever. I didn’t lie, cheat or steal to get it. I just worked around the system within the system, if you know what I mean.
But taking chances hasn’t netted me much of anything yet. Perhaps it was time to upgrade to taking risks. To me, the difference between the two is the consequences. Risk or chance, the outcome of neither is guaranteed. But with a chance, the worse that could happen is you don’t get what you want, which, by the way, is devastating enough in itself. However with a risk, if you lose, not only do you not get what you want, but you suffer some type of loss on top of it, for example you could lose money, your job, privileges, opportunities – something, you know?
As contemplation gave way to a decision, I finally concluded that I would go.
To rationalize such a choice, in my mind, I blurred the lines between right and wrong bringing it to the existential level of who’s to determine one from the other? I started to rationalize that perhaps the real wrong is that it’s hard for a person like me to even be in the position where I can be eligible to be invited to such an event in the first place. Besides, what good is it going to do me to play by the rules in a broken system. The only way I was going to get into an event like this, is if I snuck in. My invitation didn’t come and it wouldn’t ever come until I made my own way.
So lying in bed, that Sunday afternoon, after telling myself, the night before, you’re a fool if you try this, I finally got up to get ready telling myself you’re a fool if you don’t.
Before you cheer me on, if you’re cheering me on, I first must admit, I had a little insurance policy in my back pocket. A little risk-mitigation if you will. On Sunday, May 15, the week prior I was invited to and attended the FYC event for “The Wonder Years” which was held at the exact same location as the “This is Us” event—the Academy Museum. That event was held in the evening, so even though they gave us an override for that $21 parking across the street at the Petersen Automotive Museum, by the time I left, the museum was closed, the arm was up, no need to insert a ticket. It was just a little something that made taking this risk less risky. Sure there was still the possibility that I would get embarrassed as hell and banned if I got caught, but at least I wouldn’t have to pay for parking…well, that is if the override from the 15th still worked on the 22nd.
That ticket was telling me to go for it – so I did.
The event was a little over an hour’s drive away. Stuck in indecision earlier, I was already running late. Every time I’ve gone to these FYC events, I always tried to get there about an hour before they start to let you in. The invitations are clear that they overbook – there were no guarantees you were going to get in. I’ve never arrived less than 45 minutes before door-opening time. Even doing that, I’ve never been first in line. There’s always a bunch of people ahead of me. I remember being in line one time and hearing them say they’re taking 25 more people before cutting it off. Thankfully, I got there early enough to be one of those 25 people.
But this was different. Not only was I not invited, I was running late. Even if by some miracle, they overlooked that I wasn’t supposed to be there, there was a huge possibility I wasn’t even going to get there in time enough to find out.
The whole way there, I listened to Gospel music on 102.3 KJLH. I was praying too – like Lord please grant me favor to get into this event. You know how much I love this show. Of course traffic had to be heavy as fuck, on a Sunday, no less. It was looking like there was no way I was going to get there on time. A couple of times I told myself I should just turn around, look at this traffic, I still have so far to go, I’m wasting gas, but something in me wanted to see what the end was gon’ be, so I stayed the course. I combatted those thoughts by telling myself I was going to make it. I was going to get in. Again, I pictured myself in the room. I even told myself I belonged there.
I arrived at the parking garage like 15 minutes before showtime, and I still had to find a space. The garage was damn near full, it was so frustrating. Just then, I came upon a car that was ready to pull out. I had yet to pass it, but would have had to back up to maneuver into the space. The car behind me wasn’t havin’ that. I was forced to keep searching, as I watched from my rear-view mirror as the car behind me took that spot. While most of the other cars went up to the next level, I decided to make the short loop back around the first. That’s when I came across these people who were walking to their car.
“Are you coming out?” I asked.
“Yeah, but we’re waiting for someone and we’re back there,” they said. Damn I thought, but then they continued. “If you circle around once more, we should be there.”
“Thank you,” I said, and proceeded to go around again. I didn’t know whether or not to believe them, but I said, fuck it, I’ll take the chance. Even though the loop was short, other cars were still coming. There weren’t any available spaces on this level, but others on the hunt preferred to wait for someone to vacate a space on the first level rather than to go up to the second. Eager to get back around the loop to those people before someone else did, I turned the first corner a little fast. That’s when I came upon two slow moving people who were about to walk across. Perhaps they could see I was in a rush; they let me go instead. I waved and thanked them, then told myself to calm down. Getting that space wasn’t worth somebody getting hit. Either I was going to get it or I wasn’t. I was going to make it in time or I wasn’t. I just needed to relax, and so I did…for the moment.
As I came back around the loop there was a car waiting ahead of me. Like the entertainment business, and business in general, finding a parking spot in a crowded garage can also be a ruthless undertaking. The car behind me must have been listening in on our conversation, because instead of coming around the bend also, they waited in that aisle, ready to swoop into my space when those nice people arrived at their car. But those nice people were clever. They waited at the wrong car, closer up so that that car would not be in position to get it. Once they saw me round the bend, they kept going to their actual car, making that would-be parking spot thief to far up to get it. They had no choice but to keep going.
What beautiful team work between strangers! And remember those slow-moving people who let me go by? Turns out, they were the people the others were waiting for. Thank God I was nice to them. I was so grateful, I couldn’t stop smiling and waving at them the couple of other times I saw them in their car as I made my way to the Academy Museum. They were probably like who is this crazy person. It wasn’t long before they stopped looking my way.
From there, I speed-walked across the street when the screening was, where I came upon the longest line I’d seen for an FYC event yet. The good news was it hadn’t started. The bad news, there were so many people there, would I even get in?
As I stood at the back of the line, a guy and a girl came up to me.
“What’s this line for?” the girl asked.
“The FYC event,” I said, purposely being specific yet also quite vague, hoping that they would not be interested. I couldn’t have nobody else sneaking into this event in the back of this line but me. There’s only room for one impostor round these parts.
“Oh,” they said, and kept going.
Soon the Covid guy came around checking for proof of a negative PCR test or vaccination. He was the same guy from last week when I attended the Wonder Years FYC event. It was nice to see a familiar face. I showed him my proof and he gave me a happy face stamp, symbolizing that I had been checked already. That felt good. It made me feel like I’d crossed another hurdle. Like I was one step closer to getting in. But I was still nervous. I stood there for a couple of minutes before I realized I was in the Academy line – the line for people who are actually members of the television academy. The main purpose of these events is for Academy members to see these shows and decide if they want to vote for them to be nominated for an Emmy. There’s a separate line for non-Academy members, composed mostly of people from the various guilds. They have no voting rights, they’re just there for the experience. That line was on the other side of the building.
As I walked pass all the Academy people after getting out of their line, I contemplated randomly asking some of them if anyone came alone? Had their plus one abandoned them and they had a free spot open? But I’m not that bold. I just kept walking to the guild line and tried to do so with an heir of confidence to get myself in the mood for this scheme I was to try and pull off.
The guild line was even longer than the Academy line. It snaked around the museum’s gravelly courtyard, with a tail that hung outside of its gates and into the valet area. For a while there, I was the last person in line. But eventually other late-comers came behind me. The line moved slowly, but steadily. From my position, I could see the check in tables up front. It looked like people were showing something. Perhaps their guild membership cards? Hopefully just an ID.
As a looked out at all the people in line, including several other black people, I couldn’t help but wonder who they were and what they did to be there. I also wondered if any of them were impostors like me. But I didn’t have much time for such thoughts. Most of my mental capacity was spent praying that I would get in, telling myself I would get in, practicing saying my name at the check-in desk with such confidence they wouldn’t dare think I wasn’t supposed to be there…But also practicing what I would do if they told me I wasn’t on the list, still hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
In the meantime, I saw Chrissy Metz who plays Kate on the show off in the distance. She was on the carpet talking to the media. I thought perhaps it was a sign, like an opening teaser that I would soon see more. As the conversations rumbled around me, one man’s response stood out to me the most.
“I don’t know, I’m sure they have to show something,” he answered someone. “Even in that line, they can’t just walk up and get in.”
He was standing in the Academy line, which by now was side by side with the guild line, though still separate.
Soon, I started to get a new fear: What if I did make it in, and somebody behind me who actually was invited did not? Suddenly the line started moving faster. It’s like they were taking people in clumps. There were only about seven people behind me, and I didn’t want to take anyone’s place, so I started praying that we would all get in. Then above 25 people or so ahead of me, they stopped the line.
The woman who stopped the line, noticed that the next person in line was a woman by herself and she let her through – like I said, there’s always room for one. Meanwhile, the rest of us waited. There was chatter amongst the check-in people, chatter amongst the lines – both the Academy and guild lines were stopped. And then the announcement came: It was getting late, they were going to start the show. We weren’t getting in.
I have to admit, my first emotions were a sense of relief before I could even be devastated. The closer I got to the check-in area, the more I watched how it was being done, and just hearing people’s conversations in line, it was becoming clear that I probably wasn’t going to pull this off. That relief came on quick and strong.
Of course I was disappointed as well, I just didn’t have much time to wallow in it. Right after the announcement that we weren’t getting in, they made another announcement that they would still check people in so that you wouldn’t get dinged by your guild for not showing up. I’ve been told by some Academy members that if you sign up to attend an event and don’t show up, they count it against you. You can only do that like three times I think it is, before they take away your privileges or something. I didn’t realize it was the same for the guilds.
All the check-in people got up from their desks and brought their devices over to the line to check people in. Also they announced that they didn’t have enough parking passes for everyone, but that the guilds would pay for the parking if you have to pay. Fuck, I wasn’t out of the woods yet. They were still checking people in even though they weren’t letting us in! There was still a chance of me being found out even after there was no possibility of me getting in. It was the worse-case scenario that I didn’t even know I needed to consider.
I thought quickly; I played it cool. I just stood in the line pretending to wait my turn, while in actuality planning my escape. As the check-in people started taking different positions throughout the line, I made my move.
“Excuse me,” I said squeezing behind an older black lady who had just finished checking in.
“Hold on, now, we’re all going the same way,” she said and squeezed in front of me. Oh, I guess she thought I had just checked in too, it was the perfect foil. I followed her out of line, she went about her business, and I went about mine.
One of the guys who helped control the line was saying we could still go in.
“Oh, you mean they’re letting us in now!” I said all excited.
“No, but the museum is open, since you’re already here. You just have to pay a small fee.”
“How much is it?” I asked.
“Twenty-five dollars,” he said.
Shiiittt, I thought. I’m not paying $25 to go to a museum. Why are LA museums so expensive? I went to the Natural History Museum in New York and got in with a one dollar donation. I got in The Smithsonian in DC for free. Why is this Academy museum a quarter of a C-note? At that price, they better also be showing me a movie and feeding me popcorn. Anyways, it’s inevitable I’ll go one of these days – how can I not? But for now, ya girl is on a budget.
As I headed back to my car – I hate when people say this but – I didn’t have time to process my loss in the moment. I still had one more hurdle to cross: the parking. Would my override from the week prior work today? Was it like date-stamped, or time-stamped specifically for the previous Sunday I was supposed to use it on? I was about to find out.
I pulled up to the parking machine and stuck my ticket in. The screen read $21. I stuck the override in. It took a moment, like it was thinking should we let her ass go with this old ass ticket? Next thing I knew, the arm raised and I was free: free to go, free because I didn’t have to pay for parking, and free to truly feel the disappointment of not getting what I wanted, now that the possibility of getting caught, getting banned and paying for parking was behind me.
Embarking on my hour drive back home, I was just like woe is me; why couldn’t I have gotten in? I really love that show. I’ve been watching ever since it started. I don’t think I’ve missed an episode, or if I have not too many.
I was also upset that I stepped out on faith and I didn’t get what I was believing for. Then I thought about something that Loni Love said to Adrienne on “The Real.” She said God makes no mistakes. Something in my soul believes that, even though that can be very hard to take.
So instead of questioning it, which was really low-key complaining, I reasoned that if I prayed to get in, believed to get in and didn’t get in, not getting in was the blessing. I had to ask myself, what did this come to teach me? What can I learn from this?
I believe the answer is, or at least one of the answers is I didn’t deserve to be there. I didn’t do what the others who were supposed to be there did to get there.
This is not a case of impostor syndrome, where I thought I wasn’t good enough to be there. No in this case, I was just an impostor, there was no syndrome. Sometimes I can have the tendency to want something without putting in the required work to get it. I never want something without putting in any effort. I’m always willing to put in some effort, but sometimes I like to be the one to determine how much effort that should be. Clearly it takes what it takes. It costs what it costs. Sure, I put in time and effort to get in that “This Is Us” FYC event, but it wasn’t the required work. It was a hard truth to swallow, but swallow it I must…
Well, maybe not swallow just yet. I was still chewing, ‘cause I had a few more questions for God. Because I know there were people there who didn’t work for it. They were just invited. They were somebody’s plus one.
I felt like the Lord answered me that who got invited was none of my business, and furthermore, I shouldn’t want to be the type of person that’s satisfied with sneaking in, when I can work towards legitimately getting in.
As my resistance gave way to reason I finally began to focus on the things of the day that went right. I guess all that’s left for me to do is just write.
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