I LOST ON JEOPARDY!

I am not the only person that has reconsidered their bucket list in light of of a worldwide pandemic that has reordered the way we live and work. When the opportunity arises to check major boxes on that list, one should take it no matter how much fear of embarrassment or humiliation creeps into the brain. That is the reason that I was on Jeopardy! Or, more bluntly, that is the reason I Lost On Jeopardy!. I religiously watched the show with my dad as a kid and had watched every season since. Anyone who knows me knows that Alex Trebek was in my pantheon of Saints and Jeopardy is sacrosanct in my house. Being on the show was one of those childhood dreams that didn’t go away. But the kind that you keep wondering if it will actually ever happen. You see, it almost didn't happen because of my own fear.

Thirteen years before I lost on Jeopardy, I swore I would never be on a gameshow of any kind again. It was never supposed to happen the first time. At the time, I’d gone with a friend who was equally unemployed at the time, to audition for a show called One vs. One Hundred. He was chosen to be part of what they called the Mob or the One Hundred. He had a good experience, lunch and filming, but no windfalls of cash that had lured us both there. I thought that would be the end of it until I later received a call that they wanted me to also appear on the show only I would be "the One" against the mob of one hundred. In the time my friend had taped his episode of the show, I’d started a new job and was no longer concerned about the potential windfall. But I was assured it would be a fun experience. So I agreed to be on a gameshow.

I request time off from the job I’d only had for month and prepare to film the show. No script. No lines. Improvised banter. Luck and trivia knowledge were my only companions besides my friend Wendal, who’d agreed to go with me for moral support, win, lose or draw. As I pour the last remnants of coffee before a production assistant makes more, I learn in the greenroom that Dr. Ruth, Perez Hilton, Annie Duke, and the 3Six Mafia are also on the show. The coffee is terrible and lukewarm, but welcome as I could use the boost.

The contestant before me goes on, and I have a bit of time, or so I think, she did go to Stanford, after all. But as quickly as she leaves, she returns with all the blood gone from her face. She went out in one or two questions. The Casting Producer follows her in and looks at me. “You’re up next.”

Anxiety immediately takes hold and I try to shake it off. I have a job. This is just icing on the cake. I am ushered onto the stage where there is a live audience and I do as I am told and enter with lots of enthusiasm so much that I run on to the stage, and not realizing it was raked, I nearly crash headfirst into Bob Saget. There is witty banter that I barely remember. I call Bob Saget a legend and he is duly charmed. I think Dr. Ruth asks if I would be interested in dating Perez Hilton, which I vehemently protest, mortified that she would ask something like that on television. It had to be my roommate's red silk shirt that the producers had chosen as the most interesting of the changes in clothing I'd brought.

Then, we get down to business. State abbreviation riddles? Done and Done. The chemical make up of Salt, piece a cake. The Greek term for pink eye, natch. I was on a roll. I get up to one hundred and thirteen thousand dollars, and get rid of almost the entire mob, Dr. Ruth is gone. Perez, I think is eliminated on the second question. I am not sure what happened to Annie Duke, and can't bring myself to re-watch the show. I would later discover not only that she went to my high school in New Hampshire, but that her father, Richard Lederer, was also my English Teacher.

Now, there are only thirteen people in the mob and perhaps three questions left in the show.

Then, the next and seemingly most obvious question comes up on the screens. It is one that should have been obvious to someone who had spent the better part of nearly ten years walking in Los Angeles, a city where no one walks.

“When crossing the street, which side of the hand is the thumb on the crosswalk sign?”

This is an easy one I thought to myself. I’ve got this. Except, I didn’t even realize there was a hand there, just colors or a person walking? I hold my hand up and take a good look. I’ve got a fifty -fifty shot at it. But of course, if you look at your own hand it has the opposite effect of the sign. I don’t phone a friend, I don’t take away two answers, I don’t consult the mob. I say in no uncertain terms, “The left…” I know as I say it that it is the wrong answer, and I can feel a palpable shift in the air. As we go to commercial break, I know I’m wrong, but I have to wait for Bob to confirm it.

After an excruciating wait, and knowing it was over, Bob Saget confirms that the thumb is on the right when the sign is facing you when crossing at a crosswalk. He looks as crestfallen as I feel. But, I have to wait on stage, in my roommate's primary-colored, red silk shirt, with hot bright lights for more witty banter from the host to the guest, while onstage I feel as though I’ve just been sucker punched.

Wendal drove me to work in Santa Monica in a silence that only a best friend would know to do. At the office, I smile as I recant the story of my first game show experience to approximately thirty-eight people, none of whom realize the depths of my embarrassment at what was supposed to be easy money. It is the longest day of commercial production I have ever had, and I once held an umbrella to guard Donald Trump’s toupee for an interminable length of time on a windy beach in Malibu. After work, I walk from Santa Monica to West Hollywood, about twelve miles, to the empty apartment of the same friend with whom I'd auditioned for the show. It takes me two hours and twenty minutes, tears falling down my face at Every. Single. Crosswalk.

When One Vs. One Hundred airs three months later, I receive an email, a call, or a text from everyone I have ever met in my entire life. At the airport on the way home for Easter, the day after it airs, I am recognized by a well-meaning TSA agent, I smile and wish I could disappear as I replace my shoes, laptop and belt as quickly as possible. She asked, "What was your parting gift?" I replied, a little more Perez Hilton-like than I should have, "A tepid cup of coffee and a bent cigarette."

On Easter Sunday, my Mother’s preacher announces from the pulpit, that I had been on a gameshow, and that had I won he was sure I would remember to send ten percent to the church. The shame I felt in that moment is indescribable. I want to stand up and yell, "That red shirt wasn't my idea. I hate primary colored clothing!"

I made the vow to myself again in that moment; I would never, ever put my situation in a situation where I could be publicly and universally pitied, ridiculed or mocked for no compensation. There was no car wax, no trip to Niagara Falls, nothing. Never again. "Not without scale plus ten," as they say in Hollywood.

On March 6th, 2019, Alex Trebek shared with the world that he had cancer. It was aggressive. He would continue to work for as long as he could, but it may very well be his last season. I shed tears to myself and spoke with my friends who knew that the news was devastating. My bucket list and my own mortality popped up in my head. Maybe, if Alex does another season, I should take the test again. Almost a year later, I received an email that online test for Jeopardy would be at the end of January 2020. Just after a Sundance Film Festival experience, I took the online test for the third time. Twice before, once pre-One vs One Hundred and once five years prior, I had made it to the in-person audition test, which I’d passed and made it to the database of possible contestants. But I had never made it onto the show.

Little did I know, while taking the test I had already contracted the Corona Virus (Sundance always gives a parting gift). About twenty-four hours later I was felled by the virus and was sick for a full two weeks. Los Angeles and the rest of the world shut down a month later. There was no work, no play, and definitely no filming. The idea of Jeopardy! was the last thing on my mind as I was certain that the next season would be postponed, and maybe even that I would never get to meet Alex Trebek as a contestant on Jeopardy!

I received the call at the end of June from a casting producer. I had again been selected to take an online, In-person test. I’d experienced this same level before and thought it would be good practice just in case. When they called two days after the test, I was told that not only had I passed the test, but that Jeopardy would begin filming again in late July and that I should start filling out the paper work and get my test for COVID. Out of the 250,000 applicants even during the pandemic, I am going to be on Jeopardy!.

About a week before the scheduled taping, the other contestants and I meet on the Sony Lot and take yet another test for COVID-19. The Sony Lot is eerily empty as there has not been any production there for quite some time. I had been on the lot many times and it was bizarre to see a place where dreams really are made so silent and still with only the familiar names of shows hanging on buildings, though they were not in production.

The night before the show I speak at length to friends and relatives whom all wish me luck. I clean my already pandemic-clean apartment. I study mountain ranges and presidents. At about 11:3o, Junior my next door neighbor and Boyle Heights impresario begins hosting a party complete with live Banda music. This is not unusual he always does, neighbors and pandemic be damned, he was going to celebrate something. He didn't care that I had to be in Culver City by seven am to be on the mother of all trivia-based gameshows to meet my idol and perhaps win scads of cash. The tuba kept me up until three am.

With little sleep and no coffee I am lead, with the other thirty-odd contestants and alternates for the premiere week of the last season of Jeopardy! with host Alex Trebek, to the Wheel of Fortune stage and set. Again, the irony is not lost on me that I will wait on the set of a show that I loathe, for one that I love.

The first thing I notice is that it is freezing on the set. We were warned about this though. We go over COVID regulations about five times and all sit six to nine feet apart. There is no greenroom, no craft services and no coffee. Bathroom breaks are almost none existent and on a one by one basis. As the rehearsals begin, three by three, the other contestants watch on monitors positioned around the set. It becomes clear to me that everyone in the room is smart, some clearly brilliant. It becomes clear to me that everyone knows the answers which means that the true gameplay lies more in reaction to whatever was going on in the moment of play.

The personalities are as disparate as one might imagine, and even sitting six to nine feet apart, we converse and challenge and get to know each other as best as we can. When I'm called with two other contestants for my rehearsal we are all excited to be on set, though I choke on several answers, more from nerves than anything. I feel a little more prepared for the taping than I had been. Then we all wait as the tapings commence and three by three we are called. It is amazing to watch the rapid fire show tapings and to see who comes out on top. Each episode is more unexpected than the last. The rocket scientist loses to the middle school teacher. The used car salesmen wins over the actress who, in a moment of atypical emotion, exclaims her love for Alex and makes us all cringe until Alex Trebek takes her ebullience like the class-act he always has been and half of us are fighting back tears.

My hands are numb at this point and the granola bar that I brought with me per COVID regulations are no salve to my blood sugar levels. THERE IS NO COFFEE. Later, there is a nice boxed lunch which most of us can't touch as we don't know when we will be called to the set for our chance at Daily Double fame or infamy. Many more hours later, there are only three of us left. Joe Velasco, whom I will forever refer to as Captain America, has just won an episode and is the new Jeopardy! champion. There are two of us left in the audience on the "Wheel" set. Sara Twilley and I speak at length about her life and mine, about Joe the new champion, and the fact that we are both starving and freezing. Sara is brilliant, I learn from the five games and five rehearsals we sat next to each other. She is a music teacher and also loves Jeopardy and Alex Trebek. The time between the shows fly by because of her. We make a pact that whoever wins owes the other dinner and drinks. Then it's our turn. The last time I was this nervous, I had gone to Haiti for relief work.

As we walk the one hundred and fifty feet to the stage we get another far to infrequent bathroom break and then meet Joe on the stage. I am lightheaded at this point but know the adrenaline is kicking in. All I can think is, "Don't. Pass. Out." It is a blur what happens next. We are in different positions than we'd rehearsed and it occurs to me that I have no monitor at my side anymore, and I can barely see the words on the board in front of us. I have to rely on hearing Alex read the questions to answer as quickly as possible. It is twice as cold as it was while waiting even though the lights are twice as bright. There is a bottle of water waiting, which I can't drink fast enough. I feel genuine love and admiration for Joe and Sara and am happy to be there with them as we do a few more practice questions to get us familiar with the buzzer. Then, Alex Trebek comes on the stage. We three are all in awe of him, even though Joe has clearly met him already. We do socially distanced pictures, the contestants and Alex, and I try to be cool. My stomach is growling, but we are so spaced no one hears it. Then we begin.

I couldn't tell you what questions or answers popped up in the first part of the show. I know I had lost at least one obvious answer as the question "What is cassava?" had baffled Alex as a response to the much more obvious "What is coffee?".

"Don't overthink it," Alex had admonished me and the brilliant minds next to me who hadn't even buzzed in. I couldn't tell you what Alex Trebek said to me in the meet and greet. You see, during the first commercial break, a producer had come over to me and asked me to do a wipe down as I had begun to sweat. I am not good at hiding anxiety. My sweat glands always betray my face, which I manage to keep as calm as the Buddha with a megawatt smile. She says to me, "We usually have a makeup artist here of course, but because of COVID..." We continue with the first round and I get some, lose some, but the buzzer is not my friend. I know this because I know the questions to the answers coming up and try very hard to ring in. It occurs to me that I might be choking. Once this thought comes into my head, I can feel the beads of sweat begin to roll from the pits of my arm down the sides of my chest and waist, and I want to pause for a moment, a minute, an hour, or an eternity. But there is no pause in Jeopardy! and the round ends. We go to break as they prepare for Double Jeopardy. "Don't. Choke. Don't. Choke. Don't. Choke..."

The producer again comes over to me, this time bearing white pressed powder. I look to it and then over to Sara and Joe who are both chatting across the windows that separate them. They seem jocular and full of bonhomie. But, I have to apply pressed powder as my dark skin is shining now from the harsh light and the sweat forming. I literally tremble as I apply the powder to my face. Another producer says that I have some tissue stuck on my chin and I want to collapse to the ground. I want to call my mother. I want a cheeseburger.

"Don't. Choke. Don't. Choke. Don't. Choke..." The producer says to try to blend in the powder a bit more and if looks could kill... Someone suggest finding a mirror for me and in that moment it feels like the kindest gesture anyone has ever done for me. And then we get right back into it.

"Don't. Choke. Don't. Choke. Don't. Choke..." I repeat and this time out loud. I am determined not to be made a fool on national television. I can't let Alex Trebek think I'm an idiot. "Don't over think it," he said and I hear his words and voice as we start Double Jeopardy and one last time I whisper under my voice. But instead of "Don't choke, I whisper, "Don't over think it." Thank You, Mr. Trebek.

The Double Jeopardy round saves my dignity. I don't remember the categories or many of my answers, but I know that I did fulfill the dream of saying "Let's Make It A True Daily Double." I even did the James Holzhauer-trademarked "All In" gesture. I redeemed myself for a moment. Then Final Jeopardy came and hit like a ton of bricks. It felled both the reigning champion and me. Sara, my new friend, was the new Jeopardy! champion. I was genuinely happy for her. She'd brought her A-game and no nerves whatsoever.

"That was a great game," Alex Trebek says to us and I am relieved. The show ends and Alex comes over and starts to chat, with me. He says, "Herman, we have something in common, we both have the keys to a city." I smile and respond. He'd done his homework and I was so happy that I got to meet and chat with him. After the taping, I am a bit crestfallen and the only thing I can think about is a double-double with cheese from In-N-Out. I don't call anyone that night. I can't bear to recant anything in the moment. Tomorrow will be another day.

Three months later, I learn from a hundred text on my phone that Alex Trebek died. I break down in tears as I still do even as I write this six months after. They are tears of sadness, yes, but I know that checking two items off the bucket list, meeting Alex Trebek and appearing on Jeopardy!, makes me a lucky man. I got to meet one of my idols. I did something that I had wanted to since I was a child. So, even though I Lost On Jeopardy!, I still won. Thank You, Alex Trebek. Rest In Peace and Love and Power.