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The People’s Choice Awards by Bobbie Cimo

Not so long ago I received an E-mail from the Nokia Theatre, advertising for the People’s Choice Awards. The ad said they were on sale at a 50% discount. The $40.00 tickets were going for $20.00 and the $200.00 orchestra seats were now $100.00.
Surprised by the ad, I blurted out loud in the office, “They’re charging for them now?” It never dawned on me that they were probably always charging for these tickets, only I didn’t know it. For one reason, I think in the back of my mind, I always thought the attendees were invited guests of the celebrities who were receiving the awards. However, I did know who the people in the cheap seats were–the ones in the balcony. They were people like me, who got their tickets for free.
Every year at the end of November a flyer would come around the building at CBS, announcing the possibility of free tickets to the “People’s Choice Awards”. It stated very clearly that the dispensing of tickets depended solely on the availability of the production company. Which meant we wouldn’t know for sure if we had tickets, until somewhere between Christmas and the end of the year. That was cutting it close, considering at that time the event took place on the Sunday following the holiday. We were instructed to limit our request to four tickets per employee and asked to dress as though we were attending a party.

There was one more stipulation. If after making your request, you pulled a no-show, you’d be banned for life from requesting tickets again. Okay, maybe “for life” is a little strong…but the word “forever” was implied when signing the dotted line.

I have to tell you what sometimes seemed like a perfectly wonderful idea at the end of November, doesn’t necessarily seem so terrific by the following January. Especially after you had devoured every fattening type of food imaginable, in the past thirty or so days. So your first obstacle is finding something to wear that isn’t going to be showing every lump and bump you’ve just developed in the last month. And then there’s the shoes. Besides being dressy, they’ll have to be comfortable–keep in mind, you’ll be standing in line for approximately three hours. Did I mention, when you gain weight, your feet get fat, too?

Now if you’re lucky, it’ll be a cool January day, which means you’ll get to cover up your holiday sins with a lovely dress coat. Mine was velvet. Hopefully the day will be dry and you won’t have to worry about lugging around an umbrella or dripping water on anyone around you–or worse, ending up having a really bad hair day. And occasionally, like me, your friends at home will see you on TV. And thanks to the rain, you‘ll be easy to recognize, as you’ll be the one with the frizzy hair.

Anxiety grows as you stand in line, wondering if you’re going to get a good seat or if those annoying teenagers with the high shrieking voices ahead of you will be seated next to you. But as time goes on, you make friends with those around you. Your feet stop hurting, and you bless the person who invented the elastic waistband on your pantsuit.

Then miraculously, once you’re inside you find there are no bad seats. And the excitement of the audience, especially coming from the cheap seats, fills the air as everyone points out to each other the celebrities they’ve spotted below.

When the show was held at the Pasadena Auditorium, after the ceremony, you could actually stand on the proverbially red carpet and mingle with the stars as they waited for their cars. Some, if asked nicely, would even pose for a picture. The superstars like Mel Gibson, Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts, would usually slip out a side exit into a limo. But even then, you could still manage to get up-close and personal and snap a picture or two.

Now, if you had asked me earlier this year if I was sorry that we still don‘t get free tickets to this event, I would have said no, that I had my fill. But that would have been before I knew that Johnny Depp and Hugh Jackman were both attending this year’s ceremony. Trust me, if I had, there’s not a doubt in my mind that I would have found an outfit and happily poured myself into it just for the occasion.